But the branches now are bare
And the lad you knew,
Long ago was buried there-
Long ago, with you!

Thomas S. Jones, Jr. [1882

THE ROSARY

THE hours I spent with thee, dear heart,
Are as a string of pearls to me;
I count them over, every one apart,
My rosary.

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,
To still a heart in absence wrung;
I tell each bead unto the end and there
A cross is hung.

Oh memories that bless-and burn!
Oh barren gain-and bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross,

Sweetheart,

To kiss the cross.

Robert Cameron Rogers [1862

LOVE'S FULFILMENT

"MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART"
From the "Arcadia"

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a better bargain driven:
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own,

I cherish his, because in me it bides.

His heart his wound received from my sight;
My heart was wounded from his wounded heart;
For as from me, on him his hurt did light,

So still me thought in me his heart did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
Philip Sidney [1554-1586]

SONG

O SWEET delight, O more than human bliss,

With her to live that ever loving is!

To hear her speak whose words are so well placed

That she by them, as they in her are graced:
Those looks to view that feast the viewer's eye,
How blest is he that may so live and diel

Such love as this the Golden Times did know,
When all did reap, yet none took care to sow;
Such love as this an endless summer makes,
And all distaste from frail affection takes.
So loved, so blest, in my beloved am I:

Which till their eyes ache, let iron men envy!
Thomas Campion [ ? -1619]

THE GOOD-MORROW

I WONDER, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snored we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;
If ever any beauty I did see,

Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two fitter hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;

If our two loves be one, or thou and I

Love just alike in all, none of these loves can die. John Donne [1573-1631]

"THERE'S GOWD IN THE BREAST"

THERE'S gowd in the breast of the primrose pale, An' siller in every blossom;

There's riches galore in the breeze of the vale,

And health in the wild wood's bosom.

Then come, my love, at the hour of joy,

When warbling birds sing o'er us;

Sweet nature for us has no alloy,

And the world is all before us.

The courtier joys in bustle and power,
The soldier in war-steeds bounding,
The miser in hoards of treasured ore,

The proud in their pomp surrounding:

Reflections

But we hae yon heaven sae bonnie and blue,
And laverocks skimming o'er us;

The breezes of health, and the valleys of dew-
Oh, the world is all before us!

1107

James Hogg [1770-1835]

THE BEGGAR MAID

HER arms across her breast she laid;
She was more fair than words can say:
Bare-footed came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.

In robe and crown the king stepped down,
To meet and greet her on her way;
"It is no wonder," said the lords,
"She is more beautiful than day."

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen:
One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
One her dark hair and lovesome mien.

So sweet a face, such angel grace,

In all that land had never been:

Cophetua sware a royal oath:

"This beggar maid shall be my queen!"

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

REFLECTIONS

LOOKING OVER A GATE AT A POOL IN A FIELD

I

WHAT change has made the pastures sweet,
And reached the daisies at my feet,

And cloud that wears a golden hem?

This lovely world, the hills, the sward,-
They all look fresh, as if our Lord

But yesterday had finished them.

And here's the field with light aglow:
How fresh its boundary lime-trees show,

And how its wet leaves trembling shine! Between their trunks come through to me The morning sparkles of the sea, Below the level browsing line.

I see the pool, more clear by half
Than pools where other waters laugh

Up at the breasts of coot and rail.
There, as she passed it on her way,
I saw reflected yesterday

A maiden with a milking-pail.

There, neither slowly nor in haste,—
One hand upon her slender waist,
The other lifted to her pail,-

She, rosy in the morning light,
Among the water-daisies white,

Like some fair sloop appeared to sail.

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod:

I leaned upon the gate to see.

The sweet thing looked, but did not speak;

A dimple came in either cheek,

And all my heart was gone from me.

Then, as I lingered on the gate,
And she came up like coming fate,

I saw my picture in her eyes,-
Clear dancing eyes, more black than sloes,
Checks like the mountain pink, that grows
Among white-headed majesties!

I said, "A tale was made of old
That I would fain to thee unfold.

Ah! let me, let me tell the tale." But high she held her comely head: "I cannot heed it now," she said,

"For carrying of the milking-pail."