When o'er the land soft steals the breath of June,
And happy birds within the treetops tune,
Then hand-in-hand again to love's sweet lays
I walk with thee as in the olden days.
The strands of gold, the sun-god's gleaming hair,
Is as the light within thy tresses rare;
The white-sailed moon-ship gliding on the night
Has gleaned her beauty from thy forehead white.
But food of dreams love cannot satisfy,
Nor mem'ries feed the starving heart; thus I,
Love-lorn, with weary wings toward heaven soar,
Beating for entrance 'gainst God's golden door.
Longing for thee, earth's ways in dreams I tread,
By thy white hand along its pathways led.
Counting the hours till on celestial strands
I'll kiss again thy lips, thine eyes, thy hands.
CUPID'S ARROW
Say, have you met her?
I can't forget her,
Fair as the lily, her name;
She with the eyes blue,
Of summer sides' hue,
With her the world I would gain.
'Twas on a May day—
Oh, such a gay day!
Sweet singing birds filled the trees;
Fair Spring went laughing
To the gay chaffing
Of her wayward love, the breeze.
I, too, was merry,
Heart light and airy,
Knew not I'd lose it that day;
Cupid was stirring,
His arrow whirring,
And my poor heart in the way.
She smiled so naively,
Glanced I so bravely,
Unthinking quite of the cost;
On that spring morning,
Done without warning,
I and my poor heart were lost.