So many hopes in a wooing!—
Therein you could not deceive me;
The heart was here and the hope pursuing,
Knew that you loved, believe me.—
Bunched bells o' the blush pomegranate—to fix
At your throat; three drops of fire they are;
And the maiden moon and the maiden star
Sink silvery over yon meadow ricks.
Will you look?—till I hug your head back, so—
For I know it is "yes" though you whisper "no,"—
And my kisses, sweet, are six.
5.
She speaks.
Could I recall every joy that befell me
There in the past with its anguish and bliss,
Here in my heart it has whispered to tell me,
These were no joys to this.
Were it not well if our love could forget them,
Veiling the was with the dawn of the is?
Dead with the past we should never regret them,
These were no joys to this.
When they were gone and the present stood speechful,
Ardent with word and with look and with kiss,
What though we know that their eyes are beseechful,
These were no joys to this.
Is it not well to have more of the spirit,
Living high futures this earthly must miss?
Less of the flesh with the past pining near it?—
Such is the joy of this.
6.
She sings.
We will leave reason,
Dear, for a season;
Reason were treason
Since yonder nether
Foot-hills are clad now
In nothing sad now;
We will be glad now,
Glad as this weather.
Heart and heart! in the Maytime, Maytime,
Youth and Love take playtime, playtime ...
I in the dairy; you are the airy
Majesty passing; Love is the fairy
Bringing us two together.
He sings.
Starlight in masses
Of mist that passes,
Stars in the grasses;
Star-bud and flower
Laughingly know us;
Secretly show us
Earth is below us
And for the hour
Soul has soul. In the Maytime, Maytime,
Youth and Love take playtime, playtime ...
You are a song; a singer I hear it
Whispered in star and in flower; the spirit,
Love, is the power.