of yore. Dainty should seem worse fare than ours As o'er the close-thronged garden flowers The wind comes to us, and the bees Complain overhead mid honey-trees. Wherewith shall we be garlanded? For thee the buds of roses red. For her white roses widest blown. The jasmine boughs for Pharamond's crown. And sops-in-wine for thee, fair love. Surely our feast shall deeper move The kind heart of the summer-tide Than many a day of pomp and pride; And as by moon and stars well lit Our kissing lips shall finish it, Full satisfied our hearts shall be With that well-won felicity. Ah, sweetheart, be not all so sure: Love, who beyond all worlds shall dure, Mid pleading sweetness still doth keep A goad to stay his own from sleep; And I shall long as thou shalt long For unknown cure of unnamed wrong As from our happy feast we pass Along the rose-strewn midnight grass— —Praise Love who will not be forgot! Yea, praise we Love who sleepeth not! —Come, o'er much gold mine eyes have seen, And long now for the pathway green, And rose-hung ancient walls of grey Yet warm with sunshine gone away. Yea, full fain would I rest thereby, And watch the flickering martins fly About the long eave-bottles red And the clouds lessening overhead: E'en now meseems the cows are come Unto the grey gates of our home, And low to hear the milking-pail: The peacock spreads abroad his tail Against the sun, as down the lane The milkmaids pass the moveless wain, And stable door, where the roan team An hour agone began to dream Over the dusty oats.— Come, love, Noises of river and of grove And moving things in field and stall And night-birds' whistle shall be all Of the world's speech that we shall hear By then we come the garth anear: For then the moon that hangs aloft These thronged streets, lightless now and soft, Unnoted, yea, e'en like a shred Of yon wide white cloud overhead, Sharp in the dark star-sprinkled sky Low o'er the willow boughs shall lie; And when our chamber we shall gain Eastward our drowsy eyes shall strain If yet
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