Stay longer yet, for others' sake Than mine! What should your chamber do? In silence while day lasts, but wake Who brought against their will together That dumb they look: your harp, believe And while such murmurs flow, the nymph Come with a tune he knows so well. To that prim saint by Haste-thee-Luke! Bold Castelfranco's Magdalen Are these, his progeny invent, That got him murdered! Each enjoys She speaks. I To morrow, if a harp-string, say, II Your gondola-let Zorzi wreathe A mesh of water-weeds about Its prow, as if he unaware Had struck some quay or bridge-foot stair! As you and he go underneath. There's Zanze's vigilant taper; safe are we. The lady with the colder breast than snow. Heart to heart And lips to lips! Yet once more, ere we part, Clasp me and make me thine, as mine thou art ! He is surprised, and stabbed. It was ordained to be so, sweet!—and best My blood will hurt! The Three, I do not scorn Have lived indeed, and so-(yet one more kiss)can die ! A LOVERS QUARREL. I OH, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May ! After last night's rain, And the South dries the hawthorn-spray. I'd as lief that the blue were gray. II Runnels, which rillets swell, Must be dancing down the dell, With a foaming head On the beryl bed Paven smooth as a hermit's cell : III Dearest, three months ago! When we lived blocked-up with snow, When the wind would edge In and in his wedge, In, as far as the point could go- Where we loved each the other so! IV Laughs with so little cause! We devised games out of straws. : We would try and trace One another's face In the ash, as an artist draws; Free on each other's flaws, How we chattered like two church daws! V What's in the "Times"?—a scold At the Emperor deep and cold; To his gruesome side, That 's as fair as himself is bold : VI Fancy the Pampas' sheen! Miles and miles of gold and green In a solid glow, And to break now and then the screenBlack neck and eyeballs keen, Up a wild horse leaps between ! VII Try, will our table turn? Lay your hands there light, and yearn Till the yearning slips Thro' the finger tips In a fire which a few discern, And the rest, they may live and learn. VIII Then we would up and pace, We are seamen in woeful case. IX See, how she looks now, dressed Like a reindeer's roke Falls the lappet along the breast: X Teach me to flirt a fan As the Spanish ladies can, With a burnt stick's tip And you turn into such a man ! Just the two spots that span Half the bill of the young male swan. XI Dearest, three months ago, When the mesmerizer Snow With his hand's first sweep |