LXII Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. LXIII SWEET FA'S THE EVE SWEET fa's the eve on Craigie-burn, H I see the flowers and spreading trees, Fain, fain would I my griefs impart, If thou refuse to pity me, If thou shalt love anither, When yon green leaves fa' frae the tree, Around my grave they'll wither. ROBERT BURNS. LXIV HAVE you seen but a bright lily grow Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow Before the soil hath smutch'd it? Have you felt the wool of the beaver? Or swan's down ever? Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O, so white! O, so soft! O, so sweet is she! BEN JONSON. LXV SING HEIGH-HO! THERE sits a bird on every tree; There sits a bird on every tree, There grows a flower on every bough; There grows a flower on every bough, From sea to stream the salmon roam ; From sea to stream the salmon roam; Each finds a mate and leads her home; Young maids must marry. The sun's a bridegroom, earth a bride; Sing heigh-ho! They court from morn till eventide : The earth shall pass, but love abide. Young maids must marry. CHARLES KINGSLEY. LXVI HARK! THE MAVIS CHORUS. CA' the yowes to the knowes, Hark! the mavis' evening sang Ca' the, etc. We'll gae down by Clouden side, Yonder Clouden's silent towers, Where at moonshine midnight hours, O'er the dewy bending flowers, Fairies dance sae cheery. Ca' the, etc. Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear ; Thou'rt to love and Heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near, My bonny dearie. Ca' the, etc. Fair and lovely as thou art, Thou hast stown my very heart; Ca' the, etc. While waters wimple to the sea; Ca' the, etc. ROBERT BURNS. LXVII LOVE'S LIKENESS O, MARK yon Rose-tree! when the West She turns her cheek away, Yet, if one moment he refrain, She turns her cheek to him again, And wooes him still to stay. Is she not like a maiden coy Pressed by some amorous-breathing boy? And yet will have him woo! GEORGE DARLEY. |