Sweet sister of my loved, unloving one, Kiss thy wild brother, kiss him tenderly! Ask him what is it, witless, I have done That he should look so coldly upon me? Ah, well ... I know he recks not! Let it be. Yet say ... "There's many a woodland nodding yet For who needs wood when winter nights be cold." Say ... "Love to give finds ever love to get. There lack not goldsmiths where there lacks not gold. The wood will claim the woodman by-and-by; The gold (be sure!) the goldsmith cannot miss; Each maid to win finds lads to woo: and I...." Well, child, but only tell him, tell him this! Sweet sister, tell him this! O. M.
XCVIII
TRANSPLANTING A FLOWER
O maiden, mother's golden treasure! Purest gold of perfect pleasure! Do they beat thee, and ill-treat thee, That I meet thee all alone? Do they beat thee, that I meet thee All too often, all too late, After nightfall, at the gate Of the garden, all alone? Tell me, tell me, little one, Do they do it? If I knew it, They should rue it! I would come Oftener, later, yet again, (Hail, or snow, or wind, or rain!) Oftener, later! Nor in vain: For if mother, for my sake, Were to drive thee out of home, Just three little steps 'twould take (Think upon it, little one!)— Just three little steps, or four, To my door from mother's door. Love is wise. I say no more. Ponder on it, little one! O. M.
XCIX
ISOLATION
The night is very dark and very lonely: And as dark, and all as lonely, is my heart: And the sorrow that is in it night knows only: For the dawn breaks, and my heart breaks. Far apart From my old self seems my new self. And my mother And my sister are in heaven,—so they say: And the dear one dearer yet than any other Is far, far away. The sweet hour of his coming ... night is falling! The hour of our awakening ... bird on bough! The hour of last embraces ... friends are calling "Love, farewell!" ... and every hour is silent now. O. M.
C
FATIMA AND MEHMED
Beneath a milk-white almond tree, Fatima and Mehmed be. The black earth is their bridal bed; The thick-starred sky clear-spread Is their coverlet all the night, As they lie in each other's arms so white. The grass is full of honey-dew; The crescent moon, that glimmers through The unrippled leaves, is faint and new: And the milk-white almond blossoms All night long fall on their bosoms. O. M.