Mortal child, lay thee where
Earth is gift and giver;
Midnight owl, witch, or bear
Shall disturb thee never!
Softly, softly take thy place,
Turn from man thy waning face;
Fear not thou must lie alone,
Sleep-mates thou shalt have anon.
(Clock of Time none commands,
Driveth not the winter floods,
Where the silent, tireless sands
Run the ages of the gods.)
Thine is not a jealous bed;
Pillow here hath every head;
All that are and all to be
Shall ask a little room of thee.
(Feet of flame, haste nor creep
Where the stars are of thy pace;
Heart of fire, in shadows sleep,
With the sun in thy embrace.)
Babe of Time, old in care,
Sweet is Earth, the giver;
Owlet, witch, or midnight bear
Shall disturb thee never.
HIS ARGUMENT
One time I wooed a maid (dear is she yet!)
All in the revel eye of young Love's moon.
Content she made me,—ah, my dimpling mate,
My Springtime girl, who walked with flower-shoon!
But near me, nearer, steals a deep-eyed maid
With creeping glance that sees and will not see,
And blush that would those yea-sweet eyes upbraid,—
O, might I woo her nor inconstant be!
But is not Autumn dreamtime of the Spring?
(Yon scarlet fruit-bell is a flower asleep;)
And I am not forsworn if yet I keep
Dream-faith with Spring in Autumn's deeper kiss.
Then so, brown maiden, take this true-love ring,
And lay thy long, soft locks where my heart is.