For a poor flash of pride,
A cold word spoken,
Love shall not be denied,
Or long troth broken.
Yea; wilt thou not relent?
Be mine the wrong,
No more the argument,
Dear love, prolong.
The summer days go by,
Cease that sweet rain,
Those angry crystals dry,
Be friends again.
So short a time at best
Is ours to play,
Come, take me to thy breast—
Ah! that's the way.
LOVERS
Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet,
That have so little of mine own to bring?
That thou art beautiful from head to feet—
Is that, beloved, such a little thing,
That I should ask more of thee, and should fling
Thy largesse from me, in a world like this,
O generous giver of thy perfect kiss?
Thou gavest me thy lips, thine eyes, thine hair;
I brought thee worship—was it not thy due?
If thou art cruel—still art thou not fair?
Roses thou gavest—shalt thou not bring rue?
Alas! have I not brought thee sorrow too?
How dare I face the future and its drouth,
Missing that golden honeycomb thy mouth?
Kiss and make up—'tis the wise ancient way;
Back to my arms, O bountiful deep breast!
No more of words that know not what they say;
To kiss is wisdom—folly all the rest.
Dear loveliness so mercifully pressed
Against my heart—I shake with sudden fear
To think—to losing thee I came so near.
SHADOWS
Shadows! the only shadows that I know
Are happy shadows of the light of you,
The radiance immortal shining through
Your sea-deep eyes up from the soul below;
Your shadow, like a rose's, on the grass
Where your feet pass.