LOVE’S GOING
Love lies a-sleeping; maiden, softly sing,
Lest he should waken; pluck the falling rose
A-brushing ’gainst his cheek, her glowing heart
Ope’d to the sun’s hot kisses—foolish thing,
To list the tale oft told!—but summer goes,
And all the roses’ petals fall apart.
Love lies a-sleeping; let the curtains part
So that the breeze may lightly to him sing
A lullaby—the changeful breeze that goes
A-whispering through the grass, where’er it rose,
Where’er it listeth bound, a wilful thing,
Low murmuring sweets from an inconstant heart.
Love lies a-sleeping: press the pulsing heart
That beats against thy bosom: stand apart
And stay thine eager breath, lest anything
Should mar his rest—the songs that lovers sing,
The tale the butterfly tells to the rose,
The low wind to the grass, and onward goes.
Love lies a-sleeping: ah, how swiftly goes
The sweet delusion he hath taught thy heart,
Fair maiden, pressing to thy breast the rose,
Whose fun-kissed petals sadly fall apart,
With thy quick breath! Thy rhyme wouldst hear him sing
Which yesterday seemed such a foolish thing?
Love lies a-sleeping: nay, for such a thing
Break not his slumber. See how sweetly goes
That smile across his lips, that will not sing
For very wilfulness. Love hath no heart!
If he should wake, these red-ripe lips would part
In laughter low to see this ravished rose.
Love lies a-sleeping: so the full-blown rose
Falls to the earth a dead unpitied thing;
The grasses ’neath the breeze deep-sighing part
And sway; and as thy warm breath comes and goes
In motion with the red tides of thy heart,
The song is hushed which Love was wont to sing.
Love lies a-sleeping: thus in dreams he goes;
Strive not to waken him, but tell thy heart.
“Love lies a-sleeping, and he may not sing.”
Charles W. Coleman, Jun.