Page:Poems Welby.djvu/187

Her step is lightest where each light foot presses,
 Her song is sweetest 'mid their songs of glee,
Smiles light her lips, and rose-buds, 'mid her tresses,
 Look lightly up their dark redundancy.

Youth, wealth, and fame are mine—all, that entrances
 The youthful heart, on me their charms confer;
Sweet lips smile on me too, and melting glances
 Flash up to mine—but not a glance from her!
I would give youth, beauty, fame, and splendor,
 My all of bliss—my every hope resign,
To wake in that young heart one feeling tender—
 To clasp that little hand, and call it mine!

In this sweet solitude the sunny weather
 Hath called to life light shapes, and fairy-elves,
The rose-buds lay their crimson lips together
 And the green leaves are whispering to themselves;
The clear, faint starlight on the blue wave flushes
 And, filled with odors sweet, the south wind blows,
The purple clusters load the lilac-bushes,
 And fragrant blossoms fringe the apple-boughs.

Yet, I am sick with love and melancholy,
 My locks are heavy with the dropping dew,
Low murmurs haunt me—murmurs soft and holy,
 And O, my lips keep murmuring, murmuring too!
I hate the beauty of these calm, sweet bowers.
 The bird's wild music, and the fountain's fall;