Whose else that motion and that mien?
Whose else that airy tread?
For one strange moment I forgot
My only love was dead.
Amy Levy.
LOVE AFRAID.
I DARED not lead my arm around
Her dainty waist;
I dared not seek her lips, that mine
Hunger’d to taste:
I dared not, for such awe I found,
O Love divine!
I trembled as my eager hand
Her light touch graced;
And when her fond look answer’d mine,
I dared not haste,
But waited, holding my demand
For farther sign.
Sweet mouth, that with so sweet a sound
My dread hath chased,
And to my lips the holy wine,
Love’s vintage, placed!
Dear heart, that ever now will bound
Or rest with mine!
W. J. Linton.
TO MY MISTRESS.
COUNTESS, I see the flying year,
And feel how Time is wasting here:
Ay, more, he soon his worst will do,
And garner all your roses too.
It pleases Time to fold his wings
Around our best and fairest things;
He’ll mar your blooming cheek, as now
He stamps his mark upon my brow.
The same mute planets rise and shine
To rule your days and nights as mine:
Once I was young and gay, and see—
What I am now you soon will be.
And yet I boast a certain charm
That shields me from your worst alarm;
And bids me gaze, with front sublime,
On all these ravages of Time.