Upon the long white road the fierce sun shone,
And on the distant town and wide waste plain,
O Love, I blindly, blindly followed on,
Nor knew how sharp the way my feet had gone;
Nor knew I aught of shame or loss or pain,
Nor knew I all my labour was in vain.
The sun sank down in silence o’er the land,
The heavy shadows gathered deep and black;
Across the lonely waste of reeds and sand
I followed Love: I could not touch his hand,
Nor see his hidden face, nor turn me back,
Nor find again the far-off mountain-track.
Blindly, O Love! blindly I followed thee:
The summer night lay on the silent plain,
And on the sleeping city and the sea;
The sound of rippling waves came up to me.
O Love! the dawn drew near; far off again
The gray light gathered where the night had lain.
On through the quiet street Love passed, and cried:
“The summer dawn creeps over land and sea;
Sweet is the summer and the harvest-tide;
Awake, arise, Love waits for thee, his Bride.”
And she arose and followed, followed thee,
O traitor Love! who hast forsaken me.
Fraser’s Magazine.
VALE.
Warbleth the bird of Love his golden song,
And many hearken to his magic strain;
In joyous major now he carols strong,
In minors low he croons his soft refrain.
So fair his lay of Love’s fond empery,
One scarce may mark the quaver of his sigh;
Or note amid his seeming ecstasy
The dream that fades, the hopes that shatter’d lie.
But most he sings for Youth’s enraptured ear,
When hope beats fast and buds are bourgeoning,—
“Time flies,” he trills, “clasp close the fleeting year
Ere winter cometh, and sweet Love take wing!”