Part 199

Then when the sunset mellowed through The ears of rustling grain, When lattices wide open flew, When ash-leaves fell like rain, As well as I she knew the hour At morn or eve I neared her bower.

And now that snow o'erlays the thatch, Each starlit eve within The door she waits, I raise the latch, And kiss her lifted chin; Nor do I think we've blushed again, For Love hath made but one of twain.

William Bell Scott [1811-1890]

HOME

Two birds within one nest; Two hearts within one breast; Two spirits in one fair, Firm league of love and prayer, Together bound for aye, together blest.

An ear that waits to catch A hand upon the latch; A step that hastens its sweet rest to win; A world of care without, A world of strife shut out, A world of love shut in.

Dora Greenwell [1821-1882]

TWO LOVERS

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrashes sing. O budding time! O love's blest prime!

Two wedded from the portal stept: The bells made happy carolings, The air was soft as fanning wings, White petals on the pathway slept. O pure-eyed bride! O tender pride!

Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked: These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power!

Two parents by the evening fire: The red light fell about their knees On heads that rose by slow degrees Like buds upon the lily spire. O patient life! O tender strife!

The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; But all the heads by slow degrees Had gone and left that lonely pair. O voyage fast! O vanished past!

The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide; They drew their chairs up side by side, Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is!

George Eliot [1819-1880]

THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE

"Somewhere," he mused, "its dear enchantments wait, That land, so heavenly sweet; Yet all the paths we follow, soon or late, End in the desert's heat.

"And still it lures us to the eager quest, And calls us day by day" - "But I," she said, her babe upon her breast "But I have found the way."

"Some time," he sighed, "when youth and joy are spent, Our feet the gates may win" - "But I," she smiled, with eyes of deep content, "But I have entered in."

Emily Huntington Miller [1833-1913]

MY AIN WIFE

I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see; I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see; A bonnier yet I've never seen, A better canna be - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see!

O couthie is my ingle-cheek, An' cheerie is my Jean; I never see her angry look, Nor hear her word on ane. She's gude wi' a' the neebors roun' An' aye gude wi' me - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see.

An' O her looks sae kindlie, They melt my heart outright, When o'er the baby at her breast She hangs wi' fond delight; She looks intill its bonnie face, An' syne looks to me - I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see.

Alexander Laing [1787-1857]

THE IRISH WIFE

I would not give my Irish wife For all the dames of the Saxon land; I would not give my Irish wife For the Queen of France's hand; For she to me is dearer Than castles strong, or lands, or life. An outlaw - so I'm near her To love till death my Irish wife.

O what would be this home of mine, A ruined, hermit-haunted place, But for the light that nightly shines Upon its walls from Kathleen's face! What comfort in a mine of gold, What pleasure in a royal life, If the heart within lay dead and cold, If I could not wed my Irish wife?