In a threnody of sighs, With the cloud wreaths ’round her face, Morning veils her heavy eyes, Weeping for her vanished grace.
Ah! in gaining lusty Dawn, Life, and pleasant facts of light, Why must we, the darkness gone, Lose the dreams that haunt the night?
Light of the World, what are violets but eyes of you, Perfume, your hair blowing back on the breeze, Ah, but the fugitive dainty surprise of you, Pricking in green on the blossomy trees.
Give me the sun of your smile to be fire to me, Give me the moon when the passion is gone, Give me the light to be dream and desire to me Down the dark alleys that lead to the dawn.
You are the dawning of dreams. You are the end of desire. You are the gladness and glory that seems Dauntless, to urge and aspire.
Cradle my soul on your wings, Cradle my head on your breast. Teach me the ardour that conquers and sings. Grant me your infinite rest.
Because the lover cares for daffodils Must we be stranger to the passion flower, Or slight the iris, dewy from a shower? The gypsy heather bloom upon the hill Strikes fiercely on a gypsy heart, and thrills New argosies of dreams to sail the hours. No rosy perfume blown from garden bowers May bear the subtle perfume this distills.
Must we forego the dreamy twilight stars Because the true-love lives for morning sun? Love dare not hold the sense behind such bars. The moon drips scented petals on our hair, And gypsy hearts to gypsy flowers must run While life is everything, tho’ love be fair.
Inadequate and void, the days Are not more tired than tears; And yet, how long, how long the ways, Down the bare lane of years.
The bird that flutters from the nest Is fused of fire and spring, And yet how soon the throbbing breast Will lose the life to sing.
How long the lane, how soon ’tis past, Rough road, dark sky above, And yet, dear heart, there’s home at last, With light, and life, and love!
Thro’ the pleached alley in my garden of the Spring Merry leaves tossed over me with elfish whispering. I was not alone, alone, for Love with blowing hair Touched my hands and touched my heart, dancing everywhere.
Darting round about my steps, as a swallow slips, How she laughed and laughed at me, with little rosy lips, Ghostly wise she kissed my eyes, her mouth was chill as snow, For she had died, my Love had died, so very long ago.