IV
I woke and found a leaf upon the floor,
And two more golden leaves outside the door.
AIREDALE.
ON EARLY RISING
THE LOVER:
Why not rise with dawn, my Lady?
Why miss these sweet hours?
Come with me: the ghyll is shady,
Carpeted with flowers;
Why miss these sweet hours?
Now thou liest a-bed, my jewel,
How canst thou still sleep?
To encase thyself is cruel—
Beauty thus to keep.
How canst thou still sleep?
HIS LADY:
At this hour, my simple lover,
I prefer to rest
Than to watch the tireless plover
Rise from dewy nest;
I prefer to rest.