And dead leaves wrap the fruits that summer planted: 3 POOR withered rose and dry, Risen to testify To love's sad close: Treasured for love's sweet sake, Thou might'st again awake Yet is thy perfume sweet; Yet tell of summer heat, Yet, yet recall the glow But, rose, thou hast not seen, To me thou seemest yet The dead dream's thrall: Dream, truth and all. Thou art more fresh than I, 4 THE CLIFF-TOP THE cliff-top has a carpet Of lilac, gold and green: The blue sky bounds the ocean, The white clouds scud between. A flock of gulls are wheeling And wailing round my seat; Above my head the heaven, The sea beneath my feet. THE OCEAN. Were I a cloud I'd gather As pointed the star surely, Above the house I'd hover Where dwells my love, and wait Till haply I might spy her Throw back the garden-gate. There in the summer evening I would bedeck the moon; I would float down and screen her From the sun's rays at noon; And if her flowers should languish, Or wither in the drought Upon her tall white lilies I'd pour my heart's blood out : So if she wore one only, And shook not out the rain, Were I a cloud, O cloudlet, I had not lived in vain. A CLOUD. But were I thou, O ocean, I would not chafe and fret [A cloud speaks. I would be blue, and gentle, I'd make my depths transparent, I would command strange creatures, And tempt her bare arm in. I'd teach her spend the summer My love should love me well But on the mad cloud scudded, 5 I HEARD a linnet courting The phrases of his pleading His gay, sweet notes,- And when he ceased, the hearer Till swiftly perching nearer - He sang his song again, His pretty song :Would that my verse spake clearer His tender song! Ye happy, airy creatures! That in the merry spring Think not of what misfeatures Or cares the year may bring; But unto love Resign your simple natures, 6 DEAR lady, when thou frownest, That sealed my venture wisest ; But when again thou smilest, And love for love returnest, And takest truth in earnest ; 7 I WILL not let thee go. Ends all our month-long love in this? Quit in a single kiss? I will not let thee go. If thy words' breath could scare thy deeds, As the soft south can blow And toss the feathered seeds, I will not let thee go. Had not the great sun seen, I might; |