And thou, O lover, that art on the watch, Where, on the banks of the forgetful streams, The pale indifferent ghosts wander, and snatch The sweeter moments of their broken dreams,— Thou, when the torchlight gleams, When thou shalt see the slow procession, And when thine ears the fitful music catch, Rejoice, for thou art near to thy possession. 15 RONDEAU His poisoned shafts, that fresh he dips In juice of plants that no bee sips, He takes, and with his bow renown’d Goes out upon his hunting ground, Hanging his quiver at his hips. He draws them one by one, and clips Their heads between his finger-tips, And looses with a twanging sound His poisoned shafts. But if a maiden with her lips Suck from the wound the blood that drips, And drink the poison from the wound, The simple remedy is found That of their deadly terror strips His poisoned shafts. 16 TRIOLET When first we met we did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master; Of more than common friendliness When first we met we did not guess. Who could foretell this sore distress, This irretrievable disaster When first we met?—We did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master. 17 TRIOLET All women born are so perverse No man need boast their love possessing. If nought seem better, nothing’s worse: All women born are so perverse. From Adam’s wife, that proved a curse Though God had made her for a blessing, All women born are so perverse No man need boast their love possessing. SHORTER POEMS BOOK II TO THE MEMORY OF G. M. H. BOOK II 1 MUSE. Will Love again awake, That lies asleep so long? POET. O hush! ye tongues that shake The drowsy night with song. MUSE. It is a lady fair Whom once he deigned to praise, That at the door doth dare Her sad complaint to raise. POET. She must be fair of face, As bold of heart she seems, If she would match her grace With the delight of dreams. MUSE. Her beauty would surprise Gazers on Autumn eves, Who watched the broad moon rise Upon the scattered sheaves. POET. O sweet must be the voice He shall descend to hear, Who doth in Heaven rejoice His most enchanted ear. MUSE. The smile, that rests to play Upon her lip, foretells What musical array Tricks her sweet syllables. POET. And yet her smiles have danced In vain, if her discourse Win not the soul entranced In divine intercourse. MUSE.