These guests of my lady's did listen, I know, When out through the silver bars You sent forth a measure, liquid and low As laughter of waters that ebb and flow Under the shimmering stars.
You sang of the sweetest, gladdest, and best Your longing heart held in store, Till into the careless listener's breast There flashed a sudden and vague unrest, That grew into something more.
Eyes saw for a few brief moments' space The heights that were never trod, And, seeing, grew dim for the swift, bold race That was planned in the hours when youth and grace Came fresh from the hand of God.
Only a homesick bird of the field Trilling a glorious note! Only a homesick bird of the wood With heaven in your full throat!
WOMAN.
Not faultless, for she was not fashioned so, A mingling of the bitter and the sweet; Lips that can laugh and sigh and whisper low Of hope and trust and happiness complete, Or speak harsh truths; eyes that can flash with fire, Or make themselves but wells of tenderness Wherein is drowned all bitterness and ire— Warm eyes whose lightest glance is a caress. Heaven sent her here to brighten this old earth, And only heaven fully knows her worth.