WERE I thy bride, Then the whole world beside Were not too wide To hold my wealth of love— Were I thy bride! Upon thy breast My loving head would rest, As on her nest The tender turtle-dove— Were I thy bride! This heart of mine Would be one heart with thine, And in that shrine Our happiness would dwell— Were I thy bride! And all day long Our lives should be a song: No grief, no wrong Should make my heart rebel— Were I thy bride! The silvery flute, The melancholy lute, Were night-owl’s hoot To my low-whispered coo— Were I thy bride! The skylark’s trill Were but discordance shrill To the soft thrill Of wooing as I’d woo— Were I thy bride! The rose’s sigh Were as a carrion’s cry To lullaby Such as I’d sing to thee— Were I thy bride! A feather’s press Were leaden heaviness To my caress. But then, unhappily, I’m not thy bride! THE GHOSTS’ HIGH NOON WHEN the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the moonlight flies, And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies— When the footpads quail at the night-bird’s wail, and black dogs bay the moon, Then is the spectres’ holiday—then is the ghosts’ high noon! As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the mists lie low on the fen, From grey tombstones are gathered the bones that once were women and men, And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel that ends too soon, For cockcrow limits our holiday—the dead of the night’s high noon! And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their churchyard beds take flight, With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly grim “good night”; Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its jolliest tune, And ushers our next high holiday—the dead of the night’s high noon! THE HUMANE MIKADO A MORE humane Mikado never Did in Japan exist; To nobody second, I’m certainly reckoned A true philanthropist. It is my very humane endeavour To make, to some extent, Each evil liver A running river Of harmless merriment. My object all sublime I shall achieve in time— To let the punishment fit the crime— The punishment fit the crime; And make each prisoner pent Unwillingly represent A source of innocent merriment— Of innocent merriment!