Helen of Troy | Page 9

each wave that recedes; I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me, I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.
May
The wind is tossing the lilacs,?The new leaves laugh in the sun,?And the petals fall on the orchard wall,?But for me the spring is done.
Beneath the apple blossoms?I go a wintry way,?For love that smiled in April?Is false to me in May.
Rispetto
Was that his step that sounded on the stair??Was that his knock I heard upon the door??I grow so tired I almost cease to care,?And yet I would that he might come once more.
It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me,?The bitter wind that is more cruel than he;?It was the wind that knocked upon the door,?But he will never knock nor enter more.
Less than the Cloud to the Wind
Less than the cloud to the wind,?Less than the foam to the sea,?Less than the rose to the storm
Am I to thee.
More than the star to the night,?More than the rain to the lea,?More than heaven to earth
Art thou to me.
Buried Love
I shall bury my weary Love?Beneath a tree,?In the forest tall and black?Where none can see.
I shall put no flowers at his head,?Nor stone at his feet,?For the mouth I loved so much?Was bittersweet.
I shall go no more to his grave,?For the woods are cold.?I shall gather as much of joy?As my hands can hold.
I shall stay all day in the sun?Where the wide winds blow,?But oh, I shall weep at night?When none will know.
Song
O woe is me, my heart is sad,?For I should never know?If Love came by like any lad,?Without his silver bow.
Or if he left his arrows sharp?And came a minstrel weary,?I'd never tell him by his harp?Nor know him for my dearie.
"O go your ways and have no fear,?For tho' Love passes by,?He'll come a hundred times, my dear,?Before your turn to die."
Pierrot
Pierrot stands in the garden?Beneath a waning moon,?And on his lute he fashions?A little silver tune.
Pierrot plays in the garden,?He thinks he plays for me,?But I am quite forgotten?Under the cherry tree.
Pierrot plays in the garden,?And all the roses know?That Pierrot loves his music,?But I love Pierrot.
At Night
Love said, "Wake still and think of me,"?Sleep, "Close your eyes till break of day,"?But Dreams came by and smilingly?Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.
Song
When Love comes singing to his heart?That would not wake for me,?I think that I shall know his joy?By my own ecstasy.
And tho' the sea were all between,?The time their hands shall meet,?My heart will know his happiness,?So wildly it will beat.
And when he bends above her mouth,?Rejoicing for his sake,?My soul will sing a little song,?But oh, my heart will break.
Love in Autumn
I sought among the drifting leaves,?The golden leaves that once were green,?To see if Love were hiding there?And peeping out between.
For thro' the silver showers of May?And thro' the summer's heavy heat,?In vain I sought his golden head?And light, fast-flying feet.
Perhaps when all the world is bare?And cruel winter holds the land,?The Love that finds no place to hide?Will run and catch my hand.
I shall not care to have him then,?I shall be bitter and a-cold --?It grows too late for frolicking?When all the world is old.
Then little hiding Love, come forth,?Come forth before the autumn goes,?And let us seek thro' ruined paths?The garden's last red rose.
The Kiss
I hoped that he would love me,?And he has kissed my mouth,?But I am like a stricken bird?That cannot reach the south.
For tho' I know he loves me,?To-night my heart is sad;?His kiss was not so wonderful?As all the dreams I had.
November
The world is tired, the year is old,?The little leaves are glad to die,?The wind goes shivering with cold?Among the rushes dry.
Our love is dying like the grass,?And we who kissed grow coldly kind,?Half glad to see our poor love pass?Like leaves along the wind.
A Song of the Princess
The princess has her lovers,?A score of knights has she,?And each can sing a madrigal,?And praise her gracefully.
But Love that is so bitter?Hath put within her heart?A longing for the scornful knight?Who silent stands apart.
And tho' the others praise and plead,?She maketh no reply,?Yet for a single word from him,?I ween that she would die.
The Wind
A wind is blowing over my soul,?I hear it cry the whole night thro' --?Is there no peace for me on earth?Except with you?
Alas, the wind has made me wise,?Over my naked soul it blew, --?There is no peace for me on earth?Even with you.
A Winter Night
My window-pane is starred with frost,?The world is bitter cold to-night,?The moon is cruel and the wind?Is like a two-edged sword to smite.
God pity all the homeless ones,?The beggars pacing to and fro.?God pity all the poor to-night?Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.
My room