IMPERFECTION
All in the spring, When little birds sing, And flowers do talk From stalk to stalk; Whispering to a silver shower, A violet did boast to be Of every flower the fairest flower That blows by lawn or lea. But a rose that blew thereby Answer'd her reproachfully, (All in the spring, When little birds sing, And flowers do talk From stalk to stalk): "Violet, I marvel me Of fairest flowers by lawn or lea The fairest thou should'st boast to be; For one small defect I spy, Should make thee speak more modestly: Thy face is fashion'd tenderly, But then it hangs awry." O. M.
XCII
EMANCIPATION
The Day of Saint George! and a girl pray'd thus: "O Day of Saint George, when again to us Thou returnest, and they carouse Here in my mother's house, May'st thou find me either a corpse or a bride, Either buried or wed; Rather married than dead; But, however, that may betide, And whether a corpse or a spouse, No more in my mother's house." O. M.
XCIII
PLUCKING A FLOWER
He. O maiden, vermeil rose! Unplanted, unsown, Blooming alone As the wild-flower blows, With a will of thine own! Neither grafted nor grown, Neither gather'd nor blown, O maiden, O rose! Blooming alone In the green garden-close Unnoticed, unknown, Unpropt, unsupported, Unwater'd, and uncourted, Unwoo'd and unwed, A sweet wild rose, Who knows? Who knows? Might I kiss thee, and court thee? My kiss would not hurt thee! A sweet, sweet rose, In the green garden-close, If a gate were undone, And if I might come to thee And meet thee alone? Sue thee, and woo thee, And make thee my own? Clasp thee, and cull thee, what harm would be done?
She. Beside thy field my garden blows, Were a gate in the garden left open ... who knows? And I water'd my garden at eventide? (Who knows?) And if somebody silently happen'd to ride That way? And a horse to the gate should be tied? And if somebody (Who knows who,), unespied, Were to enter my garden to gather a rose? Who knows?... I suppose No harm need be done. My beloved one, Come lightly, come softly, at set of the sun! Come, and caress me! Kiss me, and press me, Fold me, and hold me! Kiss me with kisses that leave not a trace, But set not the print of thy teeth on my face, Or my mother will see it, and scold me. O. M.