Part 89

A cloud passed kindly overhead, The moon was slyly peeping through it, Yet hid its face, as if it said - "Come, now or never! do it! do it!"

My lips till then had only known The kiss of mother and of sister, - But somehow, full upon her own Sweet, rosy, darling mouth, - I kissed her!

Perhaps 'twas boyish love: yet still, O listless woman! weary lover! To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill I'd give - but who can live youth over?

Edmund Clarence Stedman [1833-1908]

THE WHITE FLAG

I sent my love two roses, - one As white as driven snow, And one a blushing royal red, A flaming Jacqueminot.

I meant to touch and test my fate; That night I should divine, The moment I should see my love, If her true heart were mine.

For if she holds me dear, I said, She'll wear my blushing rose; If not, she'll wear my cold Lamarque, As white as winter's snows.

My heart sank when I met her: sure I had been overbold, For on her breast my pale rose lay In virgin whiteness cold.

Yet with low words she greeted me, With smiles divinely tender; Upon her cheek the red rose dawned, - The white rose meant surrender.

John Hay [1838-1905]

A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS

When Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, - Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, - And my Love's eyes.

When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, - Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips; Sing red, red roses, - And my Love's lips.

When Autumn scatters The leaves again, And piled sheaves bury The broad-wheeled wain, - Sing flutes of harvest Where men rejoice; Sing rounds of reapers, - And my Love's voice.

But when comes Winter With hail and storm, And red fire roaring And ingle warm, - Sing first sad going Of friends that part; Then sing glad meeting, - And my Love's heart.

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]

THE LOVE-KNOT

Tying her bonnet under her chin, She tied her raven ringlets in; But not alone in the silken snare Did she catch her lovely floating hair, For, tying her bonnet under her chin, She tied a young man's heart within.

They were strolling together up the hill, Where the wind came blowing merry and chill; And it blew the curls, a frolicsome race, All over the happy peach-colored face. Till, scolding and laughing, she tied them in, Under her beautiful, dimpled chin.

And it blew a color, bright as the bloom Of the pinkest fuchsia's tossing plume, All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl That ever imprisoned a romping curl, Or, in tying her bonnet under her chin, Tied a young man's heart within.

Steeper and steeper grew the hill, Madder, merrier, chillier still The western wind blew down, and played The wildest tricks with the little maid, As, tying her bonnet under her chin, She tied a young man's heart within.

O western wind, do you think it was fair To play such tricks with her floating hair? To gladly, gleefully, do your best To blow her against the young man's breast, Where he as gladly folded her in, And kissed her mouth and her dimpled chin?

Ah! Ellery Vane, you little thought, An hour ago, when you besought This country lass to walk with you, After the sun had dried the dew, What terrible danger you'd be in, As she tied her bonnet under her chin!

Nora Perry [1832-1896]

RIDING DOWN

Oh, did you see him riding down, And riding down, while all the town Came out to see, came out to see, And all the bells rang mad with glee?

Oh, did you hear those bells ring out, The bells ring out, the people shout, And did you hear that cheer on cheer That over all the bells rang clear?