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The Rainbow and the Rose
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"No, no!" I cried, I tried to save you—
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress—I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only—
Dear gown—I hope you won't feel lonely!
THE LEAST POSSIBLE
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
—With many, alas! that are not mine—
What will you give me in return?
The bow in Bond Street—in the Park
The smile all worship on your lips,
The courteous word at dinner—dance—
But never a blush—a conscious glance;
At most, at Henley, in the dark,
Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?
Ah, just for once, once only, be
An altar-server—stoop and set me
Upon the altar richly wrought
Of your most secret flower-sweet thought:
One nightlight's flicker burn for me
Before you sleep and quite forget me.
EN TOUT CAS
WHEN I am glad I need your eyes
To be the stars of Paradise;
Your lips to be the seal of all
The joy life grants, and dreams recall;
Your hand, to lie my hands between
What time we walk the garden green.
But most in grief I need your face
To lean to mine in the desert place;
Your lips to mock the evil years,
To sweeten me my cup of tears,
Your eyes to shine, in cloud's despite,
Your hands to hold mine through the night.
APPEAL
Daphnis dearest, wherefore weave me
Webs of lies lest truth should grieve me?
I could pardon much, believe me:
Dower me, Daphnis, or bereave me,
Kill me, kill me, love me, leave me—
Damn me, dear, but don't deceive me!
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY
THE South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North
The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white
Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs
Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
CHAGRIN D'AMOUR
IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
Might happier garlands weave;
But you sit there, and watch us wear
The mourning wreaths you wove:
And while such mocking eyes you bear
I am not friends with Love.
Withdraw those cruel eyes, and let
Me search the garden through
That I may weave, ere Love be set,
The wreath of Love for you;
Till you, whom Love so well adorns,
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress—I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only—
Dear gown—I hope you won't feel lonely!
THE LEAST POSSIBLE
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
—With many, alas! that are not mine—
What will you give me in return?
The bow in Bond Street—in the Park
The smile all worship on your lips,
The courteous word at dinner—dance—
But never a blush—a conscious glance;
At most, at Henley, in the dark,
Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?
Ah, just for once, once only, be
An altar-server—stoop and set me
Upon the altar richly wrought
Of your most secret flower-sweet thought:
One nightlight's flicker burn for me
Before you sleep and quite forget me.
EN TOUT CAS
WHEN I am glad I need your eyes
To be the stars of Paradise;
Your lips to be the seal of all
The joy life grants, and dreams recall;
Your hand, to lie my hands between
What time we walk the garden green.
But most in grief I need your face
To lean to mine in the desert place;
Your lips to mock the evil years,
To sweeten me my cup of tears,
Your eyes to shine, in cloud's despite,
Your hands to hold mine through the night.
APPEAL
Daphnis dearest, wherefore weave me
Webs of lies lest truth should grieve me?
I could pardon much, believe me:
Dower me, Daphnis, or bereave me,
Kill me, kill me, love me, leave me—
Damn me, dear, but don't deceive me!
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY
THE South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North
The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white
Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs
Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
CHAGRIN D'AMOUR
IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
Might happier garlands weave;
But you sit there, and watch us wear
The mourning wreaths you wove:
And while such mocking eyes you bear
I am not friends with Love.
Withdraw those cruel eyes, and let
Me search the garden through
That I may weave, ere Love be set,
The wreath of Love for you;
Till you, whom Love so well adorns,
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