Short Poems

Who sings New England's Angelus?
A little bird so plainly dressed
With robe of brown and spotted vest
He rings New England's Angelus.

Love never dies, that harbors in a jest!
Love never lives, that only words can tell!
And so light looks and smiles are ever best,—
Since love that speaks must only say Farewell!

Do thy duty first;
Then only may'st thou linger
In the shadow sweet
Of flowers that are shedding
For thee their balm and perfume.

Along the mountain,
Where maples skirt the pathway,
Lest whip should injure
The bending brilliant branches,
I'll curb my restless steed.

Her lips with honey still are wet;
Take from them, cup, their milk divine.
I envy not your chance, but yet
I wish that chance were mine.

She put her wreath upon my brow,
And since that day I burn with fire.
So Glaukë once was brought, I trow,
By magic to the pyre.

The lines I see upon thy face
Surpass the bloom of youthful grace.
Thy quinces drooping in my hand
Outshine young breasts that upright stand.
Winter than summer seems more warm
And spring time yields to autumn's charm.

Long have I yearned for thee, O dearest maid,
And now I have thee, lo, I am afraid.
So little did I hope, I shrink in dread;
For many a wave has passed above my head—
And still my spirit faints: a saviour prove
To one much tossed upon the storms of love.
Escaped from shipwreck and the sea's alarms
Take me within the haven of thine arms.

Niko's magic wheel am I
For Thessalian witchery;
Children I can draw from home,
Lovers bring across the foam;
Carved of gleaming amethyst,
Bound about with purple twist,
Decked in gold and standing here
As a gift to Venus dear.

As one who sends the wine-god gifts of wine
And makes libation to the fount divine,
So I to thee present this perfumed jar
Who art thyself than perfume sweeter far.