Augusta Davies Webster

ONCE a sea-nymph loved a boy:

May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

‘Oh the foamy billow’s joy!
Oh the rippling in the sun!
Oh the round waves, one by one, Swaying, swaying, swaying, To and fro.
Oh my pearl and coral cell, And the long weeds playing,
While the surges come and go, Come and go!’
Boy and nymph were hand in hand:
He and she they had much love.
‘Oh the green and ripening land!
Oh the lime-scent in the trees!
Oh the langour of the breeze,
Wooing, wooing, wooing, Light and low!
Oh the twilight in my grove, And the cushats cooing;
While the brook steals soft and slow, Soft and slow.’
Love, that heard them, laughed aloud, Took them to the side of him.
Was it land or leafy cloud?
Was it billowy cloud or sea? ‘Twas the home that eyes, kissed dim,
Look on as they’d have it be.

Augusta Davies Webster

Poor little diary, with its simple thoughts,

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

‘Read Modern History,’ ‘Trimmed up my grey hat,’‘Darned stockings,’ ‘Tatted,’ ‘Practised my new song,’‘Went to the daily service,’ ‘Took Bess soup,’‘Went out to tea.’ Poor simple diary!and did I write it? Was I this good girl,this budding colourless young rose of home?did I so live content in such a life,seeing no larger scope, nor asking…

Augusta Davies Webster

SOFT voices of the woods, that make

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

Winged whispers through the leaves where wakeLong wind-wafts dying in a sigh,Replies of birds from brake to brake,Plash of the runnel on its stones,Soft voices, sweet for summer’s sake,There is a word in all your tones,A word that not till now ye spake,‘Goodbye, goodbye.’And yet, see, dearest, overheadThe branches bar a sultry sky,No earliest fleck…

Augusta Davies Webster

WHERE found Love his yesterday?

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

Love has only now.We can swear it, we who standIn Love’s present, hand in hand,Thou and I, dear, I and thou.By and by and Long ago;Last month’s buds, next winter’s snow;Love has only now.Do we wot of rathe or sereIn Love’s boundless summer year,Thou and I, dear, I and thou?Suns that rose and suns to…

Augusta Davies Webster

WAITING, waiting. ‘Tis so far

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

One by one the days that areAll to tell their countless sum;Each to dawn and each to die—What so far as by and by?Waiting, waiting. ‘Tis not ours,This to-day that flies so fast:Let them go, the shadowy hours,Floating, floated, into Past.Our day wears to-morrow’s sky—What so near as by and by?

Augusta Davies Webster

Oh the dear summer evening! How the air

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

and wafts of hay scent from the sunburnt swathes:how the glad song of life comes everywhence,from thousand harmless voices, from blithe birdsthat twitter on incessant sweet good-nights,from homeward bees that, through the clover tufts,stray booming, pilfering treasures to the last,from sleepless crickets clamouring in the grass.to tell the world they’re happy day and night,from the…

Augusta Davies Webster

TELL me not of morrows, sweet;

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

Thine and mine;Mar not Now with needing more.Neither speak of yesterdays;Lose not Now with backward gaze,Lingering on what went before.Watch for all to-day’s new flowers,Mine and thine,Else to-day were incomplete.Nay, but speak of morrows, sweet;Lest to-day seem loss of ours,Thine and mine,Leaving nought to come again.Nay, but speak of yesterdays,Lest, forgetting trodden ways,We have trodden…

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