The night-dew lies
Upon my lips and eyes.
The odorous winds are weaving
A music of sighs:
Arise, arise,
My dove, my beautiful one!
I wait by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My breast shall be your bed.
The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My fair one, my fair dove,
Arise, arise!
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I would in that sweet bosom be
Where no rude wind might visit me.Because of sad austeritiesI would in that sweet bosom be.I would be ever in that heart(O soft I knock and soft entreat her!)Where only peace might be my part.Austerities were all the sweeterSo I were ever in that heart.
The eyes that mock me sign the way
Grey way whose violet signals areThe trysting and the twining star.Ah star of evil! star of pain!Highhearted youth comes not againNor old heart’s wisdom yet to knowThe signs that mock me as I go.
The noon’s greygolden meshes make
The shorelamps in the sleeping lakeLaburnum tendrils trail.The sly reeds whisper to the nightA name– her name-And all my soul is a delight,A swoon of shame.
Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Still are you beautiful — – but O,How is your beauty raimented!Through the clear mirror of your eyes,Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss,Desolate winds assail with criesThe shadowy garden where love is.And soon shall love dissolved beWhen over us the wild winds blow — –But you, dear love, too dear to me,Alas! why…
O bella bionda,
Of cool sweet dew and radiance mildThe moon a web of silence weavesIn the still garden where a childGathers the simple salad leaves.A moondew stars her hanging hairAnd moonlight kisses her young browAnd, gathering, she sings an air:Fair as the wave is, fair, art thou!Be mine, I pray, a waxen earTo shield me from her…
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu,
Happy Love is come to wooThee and woo thy girlish ways—The zone that doth become thee fair,The snood upon thy yellow hair,When thou hast heard his name uponThe bugles of the cherubimBegin thou softly to unzoneThy girlish bosom unto himAnd softly to undo the snoodThat is the sign of maidenhood.