When I shall voice aloud how good Stone walls do not a prison make, If I have freedom in my love - COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE. 30. HER GOLDEN HAIR. AMARANTHA, sweet and fair, As its calm ravisher, the wind Do not, then, wind up that light But shake your head, and scatter day! COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE. 31. TO LUCASTA (ON GOING TO THE WARS). TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind True, a new mistress now I chase, And with a stronger faith embrace Yet this inconstancy is such I could not love thee, dear, so much, "COME out and hear the waters shoot, the owlet hoot, the owlet hoot; Yon crescent moon, a golden boat, hangs dim behind the tree, O! The dropping thorn makes white the grass, O sweetest lass, and sweetest lass; Come out and smell the ricks of hay adown the croft with me, O!" "My granny nods before her wheel, and drops her reel, and drops her reel; My father with his crony talks as gay as gay can be, O! But all the milk is yet to skim, ere light wax dim, ere light wax dim ; How can I step adown the croft, my 'prentice lad, with thee, O?" "And must ye bide, yet waiting's long, and love is strong, and love is strong; And O! had I but served the time that takes so long to flee, O! And thou, my lass, by morning's light, wast all in white, wast all in white; And parson stood within the rails, a-marrying me and thee, O!" — JEAN INGELOW. 33. THE LONG WHITE SEAM. As I came round the harbor buoy, No wave the land-locked harbor stirred, Sewing her long white seam. It's aye sewing ashore, my dear, It's reef and furl, and haul the line, I climbed to reach her cottage door; Oh sweetly my love sings! Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth, As the shining water leaped of old When stirred by angel wings. Aye longing to list anew, Awake and in my dream, But never a song she sang like this, Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights, And peace drop down on that low roof, And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear, For O, for O, with brows bent low, -JEAN INGELOW. 34. A BRIDAL SONG. ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Oxlips in their cradles growing, All, dear Nature's children sweet, Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious, or bird fair, Be absent hence! The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor May on our bride-house perch or sing, But from it fly! - BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 35. CONSTANCY. OUT upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, |