A Madrigal.
WOODBINE.
THE wild bee clings to it
Most fond and long.
The wild bird sings to it
Its sweetest song.
The wild breeze brings to it
A life more strong.
So all things lend to thee
Some charm, some grace.
The world's a friend to thee,
In love's embrace.
All hearts do bend to thee,
In thy queen's place.
The Time o' Day.
IF I should look for the time o' day
On the rose's dial red,
I would think it was just the sunrise hour,
From the flush of its petals spread.
And if I would tell by the lily-bell,
I would think it was calm, white noon;
And the violet's blue would tell by its hue
Of the evening coming soon.
But when I would know by my lady's face,
I am all perplexed the while;
For it's always starlight by her eyes,
And sunlight by her smile.