No More Learning

Weaves in thy fluttering hair, Sweet,
Ivy and celandine.
The wavering corn is like gold, still,
Perhaps not so rich nor so hale,
Roses with greetings unfold still,
Be though their bloom something pale.
Let's hush over all that's denied us,
Let's promise at peace to remain,
Though everything else be decried us
But still a stroll-round atwain.
30

? THE blissful meadows beckoned. To the stile
She came o'er violet carpets soft, attired,
To meet the harvest bridegroom, as erewhile,
To be his truelove till the feast expired.
Only a lark that sang within the grove,
Beheld her start; beheld her secret blushes.
And as the lengthening days of summer throve,
She sighed, then withered by the waving rushes.
And left--her slender sweetness to divine,
Alone a necklace wreathed with silken tresses,
(With which a godly friend arrayed her shrine)
A marble block amid the weeds and cresses.
NIGHT of grief and gloom 1
Black velvet covering veils
Footsteps in the room
Wherein thy love travails.
His death wrought thy desire,
Now look how mute and wan
He rests upon the pyre.
Around him tapers burn.
The tapers slowly fade
Thou speedest from these halls,
Now that thy love is dead--
And sound of weeping falls.
31

? I KNOW you step within mine house
Like some-one who to grief is prone,
Who wearies when in rude carouse,
The viols twixt the columns drone.
Here no man treadeth oft nor loud,
Through casement comes the Autumn balm,
Here to the hopeless, hope is vowed,
To pleadings, tendered words of calm.
On entering, soft, a touch of hand,
And at the dole of parting-time,
A kiss, with an adornment bland,
As farewell gift: a gentle rhyme.
'Tis not wise until the latest hour
To enjoy delight's ephemeral dower:
Birds to southern seas have taken flight,
Fading flow'rs wait till the snows alight.
How thy hands caress the weary rose!
Other ones this year no more bestows,
No petitions can recall them here,
Other ones with springtide may appear.
Loosen thou mine arm, yet steadfast stay,
Leave the park ere sunlight's parting ray,
And the mists descend o'er mount and lea,
Let's depart ere winter bids us flee.
82

? THE hill where o'er we wander lies in shadow,
Whereas the other side is bathed in light,
The moon upon its tender verdant meadow
Appears but as a tiny cloud in flight.
The outlines of the distant streets grow shorter,
A murmuring bids the wanderer to respite;
Is it the music of some hidden water?
Is it a bird that trills his mate "goodnight? "
Two early night-winged butterflies together
Be-chase themselves from halm to halm in jest,
The balk prepares from out the shrubs and weather,
The balm of evening for the soul distressed.

? NEEDS must thou be upon the wastelands, yearning
For earlier, richer colours yet?
Towards the fallow deserts ever turning,
And crops of barren summers still regret?
Console thyself if ptlt in shadow's veiling
Soft shimmering, thou thy previous plenty seest,
And a Redeemer through the breezes sailing;
The distant wind that falters from the East.
And look!