Dream-Love

Young Love lies sleeping In May-time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing, White doves come building there: And round about him The May-bushes are white.

Soft moss the pillow For oh, a softer cheek; 10 Broad leaves cast shadow Upon the heavy eyes: There winds and waters Grow lulled and scarcely speak; There twilight lingers The longest in the skies.

Young Love lies dreaming; But who shall tell the dream? A perfect sunlight On rustling forest tips; 20 Or perfect moonlight Upon a rippling stream; Or perfect silence, Or song of cherished lips.

Burn odours round him To fill the drowsy air; Weave silent dances Around him to and fro; For oh, in waking The sights are not so fair, 30 And song and silence Are not like these below.

Young Love lies dreaming Till summer days are gone,-- Dreaming and drowsing Away to perfect sleep: He sees the beauty Sun hath not looked upon, And tastes the fountain Unutterably deep. 40

Him perfect music Doth hush unto his rest, And through the pauses The perfect silence calms: Oh, poor the voices Of earth from east to west, And poor earth’s stillness Between her stately palms.

Young Love lies drowsing Away to poppied death; 50 Cool shadows deepen Across the sleeping face: So fails the summer With warm, delicious breath; And what hath autumn To give us in its place?

Draw close the curtains Of branched evergreen; Change cannot touch them With fading fingers sere: 60 Here the first violets Perhaps will bud unseen, And a dove, may be, Return to nestle here.

TWICE

I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak-- (O my love, O my love)-- Yet a woman’s words are weak; You should speak, not I.

You took my heart in your hand With a friendly smile, 10 With a critical eye you scanned, Then set it down, And said: It is still unripe, Better wait awhile; Wait while the skylarks pipe, Till the corn grows brown.

As you set it down it broke-- Broke, but I did not wince; I smiled at the speech you spoke, At your judgement that I heard: 20 But I have not often smiled Since then, nor questioned since, Nor cared for corn-flowers wild, Nor sung with the singing bird.

I take my heart in my hand, O my God, O my God, My broken heart in my hand: Thou hast seen, judge Thou. My hope was written on sand, O my God, O my God: 30 Now let thy judgement stand-- Yea, judge me now.

This contemned of a man, This marred one heedless day, This heart take Thou to scan Both within and without: Refine with fire its gold, Purge thou its dross away-- Yea, hold it in Thy hold, Whence none can pluck it out. 40

I take my heart in my hand-- I shall not die, but live-- Before Thy face I stand; I, for Thou callest such: All that I have I bring, All that I am I give, Smile Thou and I shall sing, But shall not question much.