Refuge

But we hae yon heaven sae bonnie and blue,
And laverocks skimming o'er us;

The breezes of health, and the valleys of dew-
Oh, the world is all before us!

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James Hogg (1770-1835]

THE BEGGAR MAID

HER arms across her breast she laid;

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She was more fair than words can say:
Bare-footed came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.

In robe and crown the king stepped down,
To meet and greet her on her way;
"It is no wonder," said the lords,
"She is more beautiful than day."

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen:
One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
One her dark hair and lovesome mien.

So sweet a face, such angel grace,

In all that land had never been:

Cophetua sware a royal oath:

"This beggar maid shall be my queen!".

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

REFUGE

TWILIGHT, a timid fawn, went glimmering by,
And Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast,
Ceaseless pursuit and flight were in the sky,
But the long chase had ceased for us at last.

We watched together while the driven fawn
Hid in the golden thicket of the day.

We, from whose hearts pursuit and flight were gone,
Knew on the hunter's breast her refuge lay.

A. E. (George William Russell) (1867–

AT SUNSET

CLASP her and hold her and love her,
Here in the arching green
Of boughs that bend above her
With belts of blue between.

Clasp her and hold her and love her,
Swift! Ere the splendor dies;
The blue grows black above her,
"The earth in shadow lies.

Flowers of dream enfold her.
Soft! Let me bend above,

Clasp her and love her and hold her,

Clasp her and hold and love.

Louis V. Ledoux (1880

"ONE MORNING, OH! SO EARLY"

ONE morning, oh! so early, my beloved, my beloved,

All the birds were singing blithely, as if never they would

cease;

'Twas a thrush sang in my garden, "Hear the story, hear the story!"

And the lark sang, "Give us glory!"

And the dove said, "Give us peace!"

Then I hearkened, oh! so early, my belovèd, my beloved, To that murmur from the woodland of the dove, my dear, the dove;

When the nightingale came after, "Give us fame to sweeten duty!"

When the wren sang, "Give us beauty!"

She made answer, "Give us love!"

Sweet is spring, and sweet the morning, my beloved, my beloved;

Now for us doth spring, doth morning, wait upon the year's increase,

May Margaret

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And my prayer goes up, "Oh, give us, crowned in youth with

marriage glory,

Give for all our life's dear story,

Give us love, and give us peace!"

Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]

ACROSS THE DOOR

THE fiddles were playing and playing,
The couples were out on the floor;
From converse and dancing he drew me,
And across the door.

Ah! strange were the dim, wide meadows,
And strange was the cloud-strewn sky,
And strange in the meadows the corncrakes,
And they making cry!

The hawthorn bloom was by us,

Around us the breath of the south.

White hawthorn, strange in the night-time—

His kiss on my mouth!

Padraic Colum [1881

MAY MARGARET

IF you be that May Margaret

That lived on Kendal Green,
Then where's that sunny hair of yours

That crowned you like a queen?

That sunny hair is dim, lad,

They said was like a crown—
The red gold turned to gray, lad,
The night a ship went down.

If you be yet May Margaret,

May Margaret now as then,

Then where's that bonny smile of yours
That broke the hearts of men?

The bonny smile is wan, lad,
That once was glad as day--
And oh! 'tis weary smiling
To keep the tears away.

If you be that May Margaret,
As yet you swear to me,

Then where's that proud, cold heart of yours

That sent your love to sea?

Ah, me! that heart is broken,

The proud, cold heart has bled
For one light word outspoken,
For all the love unsaid.

Then Margaret, my Margaret,
If all you say be true,

Your hair is yet the sunniest gold,
Your eyes the sweetest blue.
And dearer yet and fairer yet

For all the coming years—

The fairer for the waiting,

The dearer for the tears!

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Théophile Marzials [1850

RONDEL

KISSING her hair, I sat against her feet,

Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet; Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound and found her fair, Kissing her hair.

Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,
Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;
What pain could get between my face and hers?
What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?
Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,
Kissing her hair."

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1900]

Brought to us its great Spring surprise;

While we saw all things through cach other's eyes.

And sometimes from a steep hillside

Shone fair and bright

The shadbush, like a young June bride,

Fresh clothed in white.

Sometimes came glimpses glad of the blue sca;
But I smiled only on my Love; he smiled on me.

The violets made a field one mass of blue

Even bluer than the sky;

The little brook took on that color too,

And sang more merrily.

"Your dress is blue," he laughing said. "Your eyes," My heart sang, "sweeter than the bending skies."

We spoke of poets dead so long ago,

And their wise words;

We glanced at apple-trees, like drifted snow;

We watched the nesting birds,

Only a moment! Ah, how short the day!

Yet all the winters cannot blow its sweetness quite away.

Alice Freeman Palmer [1855-1902]

THE BROOKSIDE

I WANDERED by the brookside,

I wandered by the mill;

I could not hear the brook flow,~

The noisy wheel was still;

There was no burr of grasshopper,

No chirp of any bird,

But the beating of my own heart

Was all the sound I heard.