Refuge Whene'er I hear that music vague and old, Two hundred years are mist that rolls away; The thirteenth Louis reigns, and I behold A green land golden in the dying day. An old red castle, strong with stony towers, And windows gay with many-colored glass; Wide plains, and rivers flowing among flowers, That bathe the castle basement as they pass. In antique weed, with dark eyes and gold hair, It may be that I knew and found her fair, 921 In some forgotten life, long time gone by. REFUGE SET your face to the sea, fond lover,— Set your face to the stars, fond lover,- They will pity you, they will hover Softly over the deep for you. Tears of heaven for you be spent, And sweet for you will the murmuring surges Set your face to the lonely spaces, Vast and gaunt, of the midnight sky! There, with the drifting cloud, your place is, There with the griefs that cannot die. Love is a mocking fiend's derision, MIDSUMMER AFTER the May time and after the June time And the winds are still, and the crimson roses Unto my heart has come this season, The hopes half shy and the sighs all tender, Droop like roses, and wither away. From the hills of Doubt no winds are blowing, Only the sun in a white heat glowing Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory! Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon! For the Autumn must come with its mournful story, And Love's midsummer will fade too soon. Ella Wheeler Wilcox [1855 THE color gladdens all your heart; I know that Nature's tears have wet Who know not any sorrow yet, "WHEN MY BELOVED SLEEPING LIES" WHEN my beloved sleeping lies I cannot look at him for tears, A look of lonely death he wears, He is so passionless in sleep, For weakness life has not confessed LOVE AND LIFE "GIVE me a fillet, Love," quoth I, A fillet, Love, but not to chafe My Sweeting's soul, to cause her pain; But just to bind her close and safe Through snow and blossom and sun and rain: A fillet, boy!" Love said, "Here's joy." "Give me a fetter, Life," quoth I, A fetter, Life, that each shall wear, 'Rosies Haste, Life-be brief!" Said Life:-"Here's grief." Julie Mathilde Lippman [1864 LOVE'S PRISONER SWEET love has twined his fingers in my hair, Nor see but only in my own heart where How can I tell, Emprisoned so well, If in the outer world be sunset or sunrise? Sweet Love has loosed his fingers from my hair, Nor see but in my ruined heart, and there How should I know, Distraught and blinded so, If in the outer world be sunrise or sunset? Sweet Love has freed my eyes, but they are wet. Mariana Griswold Van Rensselaer [18 ROSIES THERE'S a rosie-show in Derry, An' a rosie-show in Down; An' 'tis like there's wan, I'm thinkin', But if I had the choosin' Av a rosie-prize the day, "Twould be a pink wee rosie Like he plucked whin rakin' hay: 925 |