THE MESSAGE. I had a message to send her, And she had gone home to rest! To rest in the far bright Heaven, I had a message to send her, So tender and true and sweet, I placed it one summer evening, And died in the crimson west. I gave it the lark next morning, I cried in my passionate longing, 'TIS ALL THAT I CAN SAY. 215 Then I heard a strain of music, So mighty, so pure, so dear, That my very sorrow was silent, And my heart stood still to hear. It rose in harmonious rushing, Of mingled voices and strings, In sound more perfect than speech- And I know that at last my message And I am content to wait. ADELAIDE PROCTER. "TIS ALL THAT I CAN SAY. I love thee, I love thee, I love thee, I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say. I love thee, I love thee, A thousand maids among. I love thee, I love thee, Thy bright and hazel glance, The mellow lute upon those lips Whose tender tones entrance But most dear heart of hearts thy proofs, That still those words enhance I love thee, I love thee Whatever be thy chance. TOM HOOD. SWEETHEARTS. "Oh, take this flow'r, dear love," said he, He spake with a tearful sigh. That night he was going across the sea, She took the gift with a mocking smile, LAST NIGHT. "Give me a flow'r, dear love," said he, He kissed it once with a tender sigh, They met again in the after years, Their heads were heavy with age and tears, He found the flow'r she scorned in play Oh, love for a year, —a week—a day But alas for the love that loves alway, Oh, love for a year, a week-a day— 217 But alas! alas for the love that loves alway W. S. GILBERT. LAST NIGHT. Last night the nightingale woke me, Last night when all was still, It sang in the golden moonlight, I think of you in the daytime, I wake and would you were here love, O think not I can forget you; The stream, the night, the wood, Oh! heaven itself my darling, CHR. WINTHER. English version, THEO. MARZIALI. |