Yet alas! Love's light you deign

But to wear

As the dew upon your plumes,
And you care

Not a whit for rest or bush;

But the leaves, the lyric gush,

And the wing-power, and the rush Of the air.

So I dare not woo you, sweet,

For a day,

Lest I lose you in a flash,

As I may;

Did I tell you tender things

You would shake your sudden

wings

You would start from him who sings,

And away.

1

YOUTH

WHEN spring comes laughing

By vale and hill,

By wind-flower walking

And daffodil,

Sing stars of morning,

Sing morning skies,

Sing blue of speedwell,-
And my Love's eyes.

When comes the summer
Full-leaved and strong,

And gay birds gossip

The orchard long,

Sing hid, sweet honey
That no bee sips;
Sing red, red roses,—

And my Love's lips.