Jamie come try me,
Jamie come try me,
If thou would win my love
Jamie come try me.

If thou should ask my love,
Could I deny thee?
If thou would win my love,
Jamie come try me.

If thou should kiss me, love,
Wha could espy thee?
If thou wad be my love,
Jamie come try me.
Jamie come &c.

Fair Empress of the Poet's soul,
And Queen of Poetesses;
Clarinda, take this little boon,
This humble pair of Glasses.

And fill them high with generous juice,
As generous as your mind;
And pledge me in the generous toast —
" The whole of Humankind!"

" To those who love us!" — second fill;
But not to those whom we love,
Lest we love those who love not us: —
A third — " to thee and me, Love!"

Long may we live! Long may we love!
And long may we be happy!!!
And may we never want a Glass,

SO LONG as 'neath the Kalka hills
The tonga-horn shall ring,
So long as down the Solon dip
The hard-held ponies swing,
So long as Tara Devi sees
The lights of Simla town,
So long as Pleasure calls us up,
Or Duty drives us down,
If you love me as I love you
What pair so happy as we two?

So long as Aces take the King,

As often as I murmur here
My half-formed melodies,
Straight from her osier mansion near,
The Turtledove replies:
Though silent as a leaf before,
The captive promptly coos;
Is it to teach her own soft lore,
Or second my weak Muse?

I rather think, the gentle Dove
Is murmuring a reproof,
Displeased that I from lays of love
Have dared to keep aloof;
That I, a Bard of hill and dale,
Have carolled, fancy free,
As if nor dove nor nightingale
Had heart or voice for me.

If such thy meaning, O forbear,

Let them have your laughter, give me only
All the withheld tears, the broken glory,
All the depth and silence of your spirit;
What have I to do with your exalting?
I can simply touch your fragrant garlands
Timidly, and wonder why you let me.

Always when I ask you why you let me
You seem half afraid, and tell me only
That I am the goddess of your garlands
And my fingers touch them into glory
Loftier than all the world's exalting,
Warm still with the murmur of a spirit.

O if I could hover with my spirit,

As long as nothing rash or mad thou doest for love of me,
No lover, sir! art thou of mine, and I am nought to thee!

The Spring is come and winters gone
And nature all ears tingle
Sweet Nanny's put her bonnet on
For flowers wild i' the pingle
The birds are building every where
Wi hair and bents and mosses
On white thorn, black thorn, dog rose brere
Mid sheep and cows and horses

2

My love is in her gown o' green
Walking and talking still
Among the hills and hollows seen
By the old water Mill
Her face is comely as a queen
Her auburn curls hang down
Oer shoulders white as snow I ween
Set off by her green gown.

3

Dust develops
from inside
as well as
on top when
objects stop
being used.
No unguent
can soothe
the chap of
abandonment.
Who knew
the polish
and balm in
a person's
simple passage
among her things.
We knew she
loved them
but not what
love means.











From Poetry Magazine, September 2006. Used with permission.

One day a fowler-lad was out after birds in a coppice, when he espied perching upon a box-tree bough the shy retiring Love. Rejoicing that he had found what seemed him so fine a bird, he fits all his lime-rods together and lies in wait for that hipping-hopping quarry. But soon finding that there was no end to it, he flew into a rage, cast down his rods, and sought the old ploughman who had taught him his trade; and both told him what had happened and showed him where young Love did sit.

For ever on Mikane's crest,
That soars so far away,
The rain it rains in ceaseless sheets,
The snow it snows all day.

And ceaseless as the rain and snow
That fall from heaven above,
So ceaselessly, since first we met,
I love my darling love.