My love is list’ning to the skylark’s song,
Delight is in her ears.
She cannot know her lover yearns so long,
And drinks his salty tears
To quench his thirst for all her winsome grace—
Her absence makes a desert of the place.
My love is drinking in the air which blows
The perfumes of the sea,
The journeying breeze wafts past me—well she knows—
Though me she cannot see!
Her lovely eyes, the yearning west would woo,
Look not on me while blooms in green fields sue.
She knows ’tis deathless love that holds me fast,
Chained to this rock so grim;
That I shall wait for her, until the last
Sun sets o’er ocean’s rim.
That flowers shall die and green fields fade and sear,
Ere I forsake the tryst to greet her here.
NATURE’S LOVELINESS
Yes, everywhere I go
I see the constant flow
Of nature’s loveliness—
But, oh, if I could see
These scenes, my love, with thee,
How bright would be their dress!
I can no more rejoice
Without your gracious voice
Exulting in my ear,
And nature, too, requires
Your soulful, ardent fires,
To beautify the year.
The tender blooms turn pale
When I, alone, through vale
And gully, searching pass;
They seem to say to me,
“Where is your mate? for we
Bloom only for your lass.”
My worship in the glen
Goes up for naught, dear, when
I stand alone in prayer;
The sea, the dunes, the trees,
Chide me, and every breeze
Sings lamentation there.
No, nothing in this world
Where gales and snows have whirled
A joyous tempest down—
Which spread a carpet fine
For thee to tread, can shine
As your belovèd crown.