WHEN IN THE ROWAN TREE
When in the rowan tree
The coloured light fades slowly,
And the quiet dusk,
All lilied, breathes of you,
Then, Heart's Content,
I feel your hair enfolding me,
And tender comes the dark,
Bringing me—you.
And when across the sea
The rose-dawn opens slowly,
And the gold breaks, and the blue,
All glad of you,
Then, Heart's Reward,
Red, red is your mouth for me,
And life to me means love,
And love means—you.
WITH APRIL HERE
With April here,
And first thin green on the awakening bough,
What wonderful things and dear,
My tired heart to cheer,
At last appear!
Colours of dream afloat on cloud and tree,
So far, so clear,
A spell, a mystery;
And joys that thrill and sing,
New come on mating wing,
The wistfulness and ardour of the Spring,—
And Thou!
FROM THE HIGH WINDOW OF YOUR ROOM
From the high window of your room,
Above the roofs, and streets, and cries,
Lying awake and still, I watch
The wonder of the dawn arise.
Slow tips the world's deliberate rim,
Descending to the baths of day:
Up floats the pure, ethereal tide
And floods the outworn dark away.