Rare garden where my heart goes gathering Many a lovely and delightful thing, Pale roses of your body and the fair Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair!

Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace, And O the wistful flower of your face! And all the soft and starry mysteries Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes . . .

O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade, And bless this garden that the gods have made . . . Rare garden where my heart goes gathering Many a lovely and delightful thing . . .

 

 

 

 

Endymion

Your hair was like a honey-coloured flame Seen through a veil of silver when you came And took me in your arms that winter night . . . The moonlight, amorous of your golden hair, Toyed with it softly, as a woman might With some bright treasure, delicate and rare.

O, young Endymion, risen from the dead, Born once again to beauty, O bright head! The moon stoops low to kiss you, as of old; Stoops graciously from her great throne of pearl, With outstretched arms mysterious and cold . . . But you have left her for a mortal girl.

 

 

 

 

Dance Song

O hide your passion from the moon. When young and slender she appears In shining gown and silver shoon . . . And, all her path with stars impearled, She dances round the darkened world.

O hide your sorrows from the sun . . . The sun should never see your tears! Weep, if you will, when day is done . . . But laugh and sing and clap your hands While yet the sun in heaven stands.

 

 

 Prev. P 17/19 next