Doris: A Pastoral 1201 Clasped in your arms where no sorrow can reach to me, By that blest marriage vow, More than the wisest know your heart shall preach to me. Ellen Mary Patrick Downing [1828-1869] DORIS: A PASTORAL I SAT with Doris, the shepherd maiden; And she, my Doris, whose lap incloses Wild summer roses of faint perfume, The while I sued her, kept hushed and harkened She touched my shoulder with fearful finger;, I answered bolder, "Nay, let me hear you, She whispered, sighing, "There will be sorrow Said I, denying, "If they do miss you, They ought to kiss you when you get home; "They might remember," she answered meekly, "That lambs are weakly and sheep are wild; But if they love me it's none so fervent— I am a servant and not a child." Then each hot ember glowed quick within me, "Ah! do but prove me, and none shall bind you, She blushed and started, and stood awaiting, But I did brave them-I told her plainly, So we, twin-hearted, from all the valley That simple duty such grace did lend her, And now in beauty she fills my dwelling And love doth guard her, both fast and fervent, No more a servant, nor yet a child. Arthur Joseph Munby [1828-1910] "HE'D NOTHING BUT HIS VIOLIN" HE'D nothing but his violin, I'd nothing but my song, But we were wed when skies were blue And summer days were long; And when we rested by the hedge, The robins came and told How they had dared to woo and win, When early Spring was cold. Love's Calendar We sometimes supped on dew-berries, Or slept among the hay, But oft the farmers' wives at eve Came out to hear us play; The rare old songs, the dear old tunes,- While my man had his violin, The world has aye gone well with us Old man since we were one, Our homeless wandering down the lanes It long ago was done. But those who wait for gold or gear, For houses or for kine, Till youth's sweet spring grows brown and sere, And love and beauty tine, Will never know the joy of hearts That met without a fear, When you had but your violin 203 And I a song, my dear. Mary Kyle Dallas [1830-1897] LOVE'S CALENDAR THAT gusty spring, each afternoon And noted at that lattice soon Her fair face downward cast; Oft-times I said I knew her not, Whose waters, maybe, broke the spell.. For, leaning on her pail, she prayed, So did I; but I'm much afraid Then when the sunset mellowed through When ash-leaves fell like rain, As well as I she knew the hour At morn or eve I neared her bower. And now that snow o'erlays the thatch, Each starlit eve within The door she waits, I raise the latch, And kiss her lifted chin; Nor do I think we've blushed again, For Love hath made but one of twain. William Bell Scott [1811-1890] HOME Two birds within one nest; Two hearts within one breast; Two spirits in one fair, Firm league of love and prayer, Together bound for aye, together blest. An ear that waits to catch A hand upon the latch; A step that hastens its sweet rest to win; A world of care without, A world of strife shut out, A world of love shut in. Dora Greenwell [1821-1882] TWO LOVERS Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. Two Lovers O budding time! O love's blest prime! Two wedded from the portal stept: O tender pride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked: These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power! Two parents by the evening fire: The red light fell about their knees O tender strife! The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; Had gone and left that lonely pair. O vanished past! The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide; 1205 Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is! George Eliot [1819-1880] |