A Little Book of Old Time Verse Part 9

Down by the sally gardens my love and I did meet; She pa.s.s'd the sally gardens with little snow-white feet.

She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.

In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.

She bade me take life easy, as the gra.s.s grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

--_William Butler Yeats_

Song

She's somewhere in the sunlight strong, Her tears are in the falling rain, She calls me in the wind's soft song, And with the flowers she comes again.

Yon bird is but her messenger, The moon is but her silver car.

Yea! sun and moon are sent by her, And every wistful waiting star.

--_Richard Le Gallienne_

Song

When Delia on the plain appears Aw'd by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear No other voice but hers can hear, No other wit but hers approve: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

If she some other youth commend, Though I was once his fondest friend, His instant enemy I prove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

When she is absent, I no more Delight in all that pleas'd before, The clearest spring, or shadiest grove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

When, fond of power, of beauty vain, Her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate, but vainly strove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

--_George Lyttleton_

Advice Against Travel

Traverse not the globe for lore! The sternest But the surest teacher is the heart; Studying that and that alone, thou learnest Best and soonest whence and what thou art.

Moor, Chinese, Egyptian, Russian, Roman, Tread one common down-hill path of doom; Everywhere the names are man and woman, Everywhere the old sad sins find room.

Evil angels tempt us in all places.

What but sands or snows hath earth to give?

Dream not, friend, of deserts and oases; But look inwards, and begin to live!

--_James Clarence Mangan_

Remember

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand.

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

--_Christina Georgina Rossetti_

There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming And the lull'd winds seem dreaming.

And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving As an infant's asleep; So, the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

--_George Gordon_ (_Lord Byron_)

A Valentine

What shall I send my love today When all the woods attune to love, And I would show the lark and dove That I can love as well as they? ...

I'll send a kiss, for that would be The quickest sent, the lightest borne; And well I know to-morrow morn She'll send it back again to me.

Go, happy winds! ah, do not stay Enamour'd of my lady's cheek, But hasten home, and I'll bespeak Your services another day!

--_Matilda Betham Edwards_

To His Mistress, Objecting to His Neither Toying nor Talking

You say I love not, 'cause I do not play Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.

You blame me, too, because I can't devise Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes; By Love's religion, I must here confess it, The most I love when I the least express it.

Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found To give, if any, yet but little sound.

Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know, That chiding streams betray small depths below.

So, when Love speechless is, she doth express A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.

Now since my love is tongueless, know me such, Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much.

--_Robert Herrick_

When You Are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep And, nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;