It is the season now to go
Into May's fairyland—
Where happy, hand in hand,
We two can watch the green buds grow,
And breathe the lilac breezes blow
Within the woods' wild loveliness.
Oh, come, my love, with me,
And lie 'neath yonder tree,
Whose shadows are a fond caress.

It is the season now for those
Who scent love's Spring.
The birds are caroling
Of youth that never has a close.
Our May shall be like to the rose
That never dies: Winter is o'er,
And happy, hand in hand,
In May's sweet fairyland
We two shall wander evermore!

Love is like a flowing river,
Broad and wondrous fair.
On its breast the sunbeams quiver,
Sparkling everywhere.
How the far cerulean mountains
Smile upon its birth,
As the happy-hearted fountains,
Laughing, dance to earth!

Dwell within its mystic shadows
Visions never told,
Purple isles, elysian meadows,
Realms of cloudy gold.
In its ruffled expanse glassing,
Wanders mutely by
All the holy whiteness, massing
Warm in yonder sky.

Titan power that stream possesses,
Ay, and sorely needs.
Farther down are stagnant places,

Come, dearest Julia! thou and I
Will knit us in so strict a tie,
As shall with greater pow'r engage
Than feeble charms of marriage:
We will be friends, our thoughts shall go,
Without impeachment, to and fro;
The same desires shall elevate
Our mingled souls, the selfsame hate
Shall cause aversion, we will bear
One sympathising hope and fear,
And for to move more close, we'll frame
Our triumphs and our tears the same;
Yet will we ne'er so grossly dare,
As our ignobler selves shall share;
Let men desire, like those above

Two lovers by the old front gate,
So young and all alone!
The village clock tolls: Late! Late! Late!
Twelve times in solemn tone.
“No! No!”
A deep voice says aloud,
“Sweetheart, don't go
Till the moon goes under a cloud.”

The Queen of Night rides high in space,
Serenely bright and fair;
Her kisses gild the young swain's face,
The maiden's glossy hair.
'Tis late,
And all their vows are vowed:
Why wait, and wait,
Till the moon goes under a cloud?

The fair girl's dewy lips repeat:
“Good night is not good-by.”

Oh, let the old love wake again:
It only sleeping lies;
Oh, let the old light break again
From out your dusky eyes.
Dear Heart, I've wandered lonely
To many a haven fair,
And found them sunless only
Because you were not there.

Oh, let us haste to say again
Our pledges fond and low,
And let us feel love's day again
Within our bosoms glow.
Sweetheart, do you not feel it,
The tenderness of youth?
Your eyes—your eyes reveal it,
And they are God's own truth!

Oh, let your dear head rest again

Cool is the water in the cup I pass
For thy cool lips' refreshment; but alas,
This, where my lips have lingered after thine,
Is no cool water but a burning wine.

Love laid his hands on my two hands
And straightway I was strong;
He held my eyes within his eyes
That they might see no wrong;
His kisses fell upon my lips
And left them filled with song.

The meanest task my hands may do
For Love's sake now is meet;
The meanest thing my eyes may see
Grows wondrous and complete;
And since my songs are all of him,
Love, must not they be sweet?

I LOOKED from out my window once
And saw Love standing there;
No cloak had he to cover him,
His dimpled feet were bare,
And fast and chill the snowflakes fell
On his ambrosial hair.

He lifted up to mine a face
Filled with celestial light;
Fond, fond with pity grew my heart
To see his hapless plight,
And down I sped to offer him
Warm shelter for the night:—

“Come in, come in, thou tender child,
A wanderer from thine own!
Hath all the world abandoned thee,
That thou art thus alone?
Come in, come in! that I straightway

One night upon mine ancient enemy
I closed my door,
And lo! that night came Love in search of me—
Love I had hungered for—
And finding my door closed, went on his way,
And came no more.

Pray you take counsel of this penitent,
And learn thereof:
Set your door wide whatever guests be sent,
Your graciousness to prove;
Better to let in many enemies
Than bar out Love.

I WHO yesterday was young,
Now am old instead;
All of youth a glad song sung,
All a story said.
It was love who sang the song,
Love the story told.
Ah, but we remember long,
We, grown old.

Only yesterday I quaffed
Life's enkindling wine;
Only yesterday I laughed
Youth's light laugh divine.
It was love who played the host,
Brimmed the cup of gold.
Ah, but we remember most,
We, grown old.

Only yesterday my eyes
Held Love's marvelings;
Nay, it is not Time that flies—
Love alone has wings.