The softest breath of Autumn air,
Our naked foreheads fauned and kist;
And far away on shore we saw
Fond lovers keeping lovers' tryst.
And on the stars we, silent, gazed ;
And gazed upon the silent sea;
And watched the lovers far away,
And wondered if they loved like we.
We spoke not: but we felt the love
The tongue in vain attempts to say;
And gazing silently on all,
Our hearts in love's deep silence lay.
'Twas then, o'ercome by Beauty's charm,
O'ercome by Love's heart-moving power,
Thy blushing lips first pressed on mine,
And sanctified that glorious hour.
Oh blessed night! Its memory
Is sweet and precious to me now
Again I see its moon and stars,
And feel its breath upon my brow.
Again those fire-flies round me glow;
I see the lovers in their bliss;
But sweeter far, I feel once more
Upon my lips thy first fond kiss.
O, ASK NOT WHY I LOVE THEE.
O, ASK not why I love thee,
But rather ask, my Fair,
Who, having gazed upon thee,
From loving could forbear?
When breathes the early Spring-time,
The primrose will appear ;
The violet ’neath the hedge-row
Its fragrant head will rear ;
And in the light of thy blue eyes,
Love to the heart as surely flies.
Where the honey-suckle blooms,
O, there will come the bee;
And mountain rills, though inland far,
At last will reach the sea;
The willows on the river's bank
Will bend to kiss the stream;
And golden will the wheat-fields glow
Beneath the Summer's beam;
And in the light of thy blue eyes,
Love to the heart as surely flies.
Then ask not why I love thee,
But rather ask, my Fair,
Who, having gazed upon thee,
From loving could forbear?
The flowers at morn will petals spread
With joy the sun to greet;
And every cup will sparkling hold
A sun-kissed dew-drop sweet;
So in the light of thy blue eyes,
Love to the heart as surely flies.
ALL dark and gloomy was the night,
As through the wood I wandered;
No star gave forth its ray of light,
To cheer the dark and gloomy night,
As through the wood I wandered.
And wrapt in darkness all that night
On precious things I pondered.
The winds came through the leafless trees
In wild and woeful moaning;
Like one who, spirit-tortured, flees
Some vision which he, guilty, sees,
And hears a spectre groaning:
But ne'er to me more sweet the breeze
That comes at Summer gloaming.
The trees like spectres o'er me stood,
Their weird-like branches spreading ;
As fiends had crowded in the wood,
To banish every thought of good,
Were evil only shedding:
Yet joyous thoughts did through me flood,
The heart to rapture wedding.
For I heard from my Love that night
The word her love revealing;
And all within was clear and bright,
And fancies of untold delight
Made glad each passing feeling;
And I in glory moved that night,
No gloom my joy concealing.
The winds to me were music sweet;
The darkness was unheeded ;
My lips her words, with bliss replete,
Did o'er and o'er that night repeat,
And joy to joy succeeded.
The Light of Love was all complete ;
No other light was needed.
AN ODE TO THE MEMORY OF SHAKSPEARE,
Read at the Shakspeare Commemoration held at Aston Hall,
on Monday, April 25th, 1859.
It was the Spring-time of the year,
And earth was full of life and love;
An April sky, bright, blue, and clear,
Hung Avon's sedgy stream above;
And as the waves in music rolled along,
From every bush and brake the ear was thrilled with song.
On such a glorious English morn,
(Three hundred years since then have flown,) Our England's brightest child was born,
Her pride, her darling, all her own;
The child whose tongue has made her language dear,
Wherever words can raise a smile or draw a tear.
Around his cradle, though unseen,
The Muses gathered, one and all,
And as he slept in sunlit sheen,
Rich blessings on the child they call.
And each in turn his sweet lips fondly pressed,
And in his sleep he smiled, as knowing who caressed.
|