To Lucasta, Going To The WarsTell me not, Sweet, I am unkindThat from the nunneryOf thy chaste breasts,and quiet mind,To war and arms I fly.True, a new mistress now I chase,The first foe in the field;And with a stronger faith embraceA sword, a horse, a shield.Yet this inconstancy is suchAs you too shall adore;I could not love there, Dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Did Not'Twas a new feeling - something moreThan we had dared to own before,Which then we hid not;We saw it in each other's eye,And wished, in every half-breathed sigh,To speak, but did not.She felt my lips' impassioned touch - 'Twas the first time I dared so much,And yet she chid not;But whispered o'er my burning brow,'Oh, do you doubt I love you now?'Sweet soul! I did not.Warmly I felt her bosom thrill,I pressed it closer,closer still,Though gently bid not;Till - oh! the world hath seldom heardOf lovers, who so nearly erred,And yet, who did not.
For LoveHow long shall I pine for love?How long shall I use in vain?How long like the turtle - doveShall I heavenly thus complain?Shall the sails of my love stand still?Shall the grists of my hopes be unground?Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,Let the mill, let the mill go round.
New Love, New LifeShe, who so long has lainStone-stiff with folded wings,Within my heart againThe brown bird wakes and sings.Brown nightingale, whose strainIs heard by day, by night,She sings of joy and pain,Of sorrow and delight.'Tis true - in other daysHave I unbarred the door;He knows the walks and ways -Love has been here before.Love blest and love accurstWas here in long days past;This time is not the first,But this time is the last.
Pure LoveLong in secret have I sighed, -For you all others I've denied,And if your heart I cannot gain,I ne'er will wed another swain.Pray my love an answer send,And let it be in honour penn'd,That I may no longer languish,And soon, oh soon, relieve my anguish.
Oh what can ail thee, knight/at/arms,Alone and palely loitering?The sedge has wither'd from the lake,And no birds sing.I see a lily on thy browWith anguish moist and fever dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful - a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.I set her on my pacing steed,And nothing else saw all day long,For sidelong would she bend, and singA faery's song.She took me to her elfin grot,And there she wept and sigh'd full sore,And there I shut her wild, wild eyesWith kisses four.And there she lulled me asleep,And there I dream'd - ah! woe betide!The latest dream I ever dream'dOn the cold hill's side.I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death/pale were they all;They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!'I saw their starved lips in the gloam,With horrid warning gaped wide,And I awoke and found me here,On the cold hill's side.And this is why I sojurn here,Alone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,And no birds sing.
The ring is on my hand,And the wreath is on my brow;Satin and jewels grandAe all at my command,And I am happy now.And my Lord he loves me well;But, when first he breathed his vow,I felt my bosom swell-For the words rang as a knell,And the voice seemed his who fellIn the battle down the dell,And who is happy now.But he spoke to re-assure me,And he kissed my pallid brow,While a reverie came o'er me,And to the church-yard bore me,And I sighed to him before me,Thinking him dead D'Elormie,'Oh, I am happy now!'And thus the words were spoken,And this the plighted vow,And, though my faith be broken,And, though my heart be broken,Here is a ring, as tokenThat I am happy now!Would God I could awaken!For I dream I know not how!And my soul is sorely shakenLest an evil step be taken,-Lest the dead who is forsakenMay not be happy now.
