Oh, had I but the poet's voice to sing,
Then would the music prisoned in my heart
(Panting in vain its message to impart)
Hover around thee, Love, on trembling wing,
To tell thee of the soft-eyed hopes that cling
To Love's white feet, the doubts and fears that start
And pierce his bosom with a poisoned dart,—
The smiles that soothe, the cold hard looks that sting!
But 'tis not mine, the soaring joy of Song:
I strive to voice my soul, but strive in vain.
Though passion thrills, and eager fancies throng,
Deckt in the varying hues of joy and pain,
Yet the weak voice—as weak as Love is strong—
Dies murm'ring on Love's throbbing heart again.
XVII
LOVE'S MESSAGE
We will not take Love's name; that little word,
By lips too oft profaned, we will not use.
From Nature's best and loveliest we will choose
Fit symbols for Love's message; like a bird,—
Whose warbled love-notes by its mate are heard
In greenwood glade,—shalt thou in strains profuse
The prisoned music of thy heart unloose,
While my heart's love is by sweet flow'rs averred.
Then take, O take these fresh-awakened flowers,
The symbols of my love, and keep them near,
Where they may feel thy breath and touch thy hand;
Then sing thy songs to me,—in silver showers
Pour forth, thine eager soul, and I shall hear;
Ah, thus will Love Love's message Understand!
XVIII
ECSTASY
The Nightingale upon the Rose's breast
Warbling her tale of life-long sorrow lies,
Till in love's trancèd ecstasy her eyes
Close and her throbbing heart is set at rest;
For, to the yielding flow'r her bosom prest,
Death steals upon her in the sweet disguise
Of crownèd love and brings what life denies,—
mingling of the souls,—Love's eager quest!
Thus let my heart against thy heart repose,
Sigh forth its life in one delicious sigh,
Then drink new life from out thy balmy breath;
Thus in love's languor let our eyelids close,
And let our blended souls enchanted lie,
And dream of joy beyond the gates of death.