And I will give you, if you will but stay, The magic mirror of the dawn, where day Waking, beholds the wonder of her face— If you will keep me yet in your embrace, And let me dream of Love's eternity. What will you give to me?

Yes! I will give you the gold veils of light, And the dark spangled curtains of the night . . . And I will give you as a flower unfurled, The proud and marvellous beauty of the world, And all the wild, white horses of the sea. What will you give to me? . . .

 

 

 

 

Primrose Hill

Wild heart in me that frets and grieves, Imprisoned here against your will . . . Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings See! I have found some golden things! The poplar trees on Primrose Hill With all their shining play of leaves . . . And London like a silver bride, That will not put her veil aside!

Proud London like a painted Queen, Whose crown is heavy on her head . . . City of sorrow and desire, Under a sky of opal fire, Amber and amethyst and red . . . And how divine the day has been! For every dawn God builds again This world of beauty and of pain . . .

Wild heart that hungers for delight, Imprisoned here against your will; Sad heart, so eager to be gay! Loving earth's lovely things . . . the play Of wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . . Or London dreaming of the night . . . Adventurous heart, on beauty bent, That only Heaven could quite content!

 

 

 

 

A Morning Song

You saw my window open wide, And woke me early, sister day! You came in all your lovely pride, With laughing looks that I adore, With wings of blue and grey . . . With sunshine skirts that swept the floor, With songs to drive night's dreams away, You called me out to play. And so I took you by the hand, And found the way to fairyland . . . With such impatient feet I climb The ladders of delight! For well I know that ruthless time Turns morning moods to tears and night.

 

 

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