All night above thy peaceful head,
The sky is bright with burning stars;
To thee the opening morning brings
No news of peace, nor sound of wars;
Sole tenant of thy starry home;
Uncheered by friend, unvexed by foe;
Down the slow tide of lapsing time
Thy tranquil days in silence go.
Waiting with calm, expectant eyes
The hour that makes her wholly thine
Secure from all the blows of Fate
And all the mischiefs wrought by Time.
TWO MAYS
HERE is the stile on which I leaned;—
This golden willow bending over;—
Yonder’s the same blue sky that gleamed
The day that I murmured, “I am thy lover.”
This is the stone on which she sat;
See here the bright moss freshly springing,
And look! overhead the same bluebirds
Back and forth from the old nest winging.
Here is the briar whose flowers she pulled
Leaf by leaf as she heard my pleading.
Swayed by the same idle April wind
That laughed as it flew, Love’s pang unheeding.
Sky, trees, flowers—the same; but I?—
Am I the same boy whose wild heart burning
Leapt to one heart in the sweet wild world!
Stilled on one bosom its passionate yearning?
Silk-soft hair and hazel eyes,
Limbs that lightly moved or stood
And a heart that beat with a loyal love
For all things beautiful, true and good.
Follies that flecked this fairest fruit,
Sins that spotted this whitest page,
Changed without, but the same within,
Life’s rose untouched by the frost of age.