Chamber Music

Strings in the earth and air 
  Make music sweet; 
Strings by the river where 
  The willows meet. 

There's music along the river 
  [For Love wanders there,]1
Pale [flowers]2 on his mantle, 
  Dark leaves on his hair. 

All softly playing, 
  With head to [the]3 music bent, 
And fingers straying 
  Upon an instrument.

The twilight turns from amethyst 
  To deep and deeper blue, 
The lamp fills with a pale green glow 
  The trees of the avenue. 

The old piano plays an air, 
  Sedate and slow and gay; 
She bends upon the yellow keys, 
  Her head inclines this way. 

Shy thoughts and grave wide eyes and hands 
  That wander as they list? 
The twilight turns to darker blue 
  With lights of amethyst.

At that hour when all things have repose,
    O lonely watcher of the skies, 
    Do you hear the night wind and the sighs 
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
    The pale gates of sunrise?

When all things repose, do you alone
    Awake to hear the sweet harps play 
    To Love before him on his way, 
And the night wind answering in antiphon
    Till night is overgone?

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
    Whose way in heaven is aglow 
    At that hour when soft lights come and go, 
Soft sweet music in the air above
    And in the earth below.

 When the shy star goes forth in heaven 
   All maidenly, disconsolate, 
 Hear you amid the drowsy even 
   One who is singing by your gate. 
 His song is softer than the dew 
   And he is come to visit you. 

 O bend no more in revery 
   When he at eventide is calling, 
 Nor muse: Who may this singer be 
   Whose song about my heart is falling 
 Know you by this, the lover's chant, 
   'Tis I that am your visitant.

Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair,
I heard you singing
  A merry air.

My book is closed;
  I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
  On the floor.

I have left my book,
  I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
  Through the gloom,

Singing and singing
  A merry air.
Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair.

I would in that sweet bosom be 
  (O sweet it is and fair it is!) 
Where no rude wind might visit me. 
  Because of sad austerities 
I would in that sweet bosom be. 

I would be ever in that heart 
  (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!) 
Where only peace might be my part. 
  Austerities were all the sweeter 
So I were ever in that heart.

My love is in a light attire 
Among the apple-trees, 
Where the gay winds do most desire 
To run in companies. 

There, where the gay winds stay to woo 
The young leaves as they pass, 
My love goes slowly, bending to 
Her shadow on the grass; 

And where the sky's a pale blue cup 
Over the laughing land, 
My love goes lightly, holding up 
Her dress with dainty hand.

Who goes amid the green wood 
  With springtide all adorning her? 
Who goes amid the meny green wood 
  To make it merrier? 

Who passes in the sunlight 
  By ways that know the light footfall? 
Who passes in the sweet sunlight 
  With mien so virginal? 

The ways of all the woodland 
  Gleam with a soft and golden fire? 
For whom does all the sunny woodland 
  Carry so brave attire? 

O, it is for my true love 
The woods their rich apparel wear 
O, it is for my own true love, 
  That is so young and fair.

Winds of May, that dance on the sea, 
Dancing a ring-around in glee 
From furrow to furrow, while overhead 
The foam flies up to be garlanded, 
In silvery arches spanning the air, 
Saw you my true love anywhere? 
		 Welladay! Welladay! 
		 For the winds of May! 
  Love is unhappy when love is away!

Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.
 
With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over--
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.

Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, 
  Bid adieu to girlish days, 
Happy love is come to woo 
  Thee and woo thy girlish ways - 
The zone that doth become thee fair, 
The snood upon thy yellow hair. 

When thou hast heard his name upon 
  The bugles of the cherubim 
Begin thou softly to unzone 
  Thy girlish bosom unto him 
And softly to undo the snood 
That is the sign of maidenhood.

What counsel has the hooded moon
    Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, 
Of Love in ancient plenilune,
    Glory and stars beneath his feet -- - 
A sage that is but kith and kin
    With the comedian Capuchin?

Believe me rather that am wise
    In disregard of the divine, 
A glory kindles in those eyes
    Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine! 
No more be tears in moon or mist
For thee, sweet sentimentalist.

Go seek her out all courteously,
    And say I come, 
Wind of spices whose song is ever
    Epithalamium. 
O, hurry over the dark lands
    And run upon the sea 
For seas and lands shall not divide us
    My love and me.

Now, wind, of your good courtesy
    I pray you go, 
And come into her little garden
    And sing at her window; 
Singing: The bridal wind is blowing
    For Love is at his noon; 
And soon will your true love be with you,
    Soon, O soon.

My dove, my beautiful one, 
  Arise, arise! 
  The night-dew lies 
Upon my lips and eyes. 

The odorous winds are weaving 
  A music of sighs: 
  Arise, arise, 
My dove, my beautiful one! 

I wait by the cedar tree, 
  My sister, my love. 
  White breast of the dove, 
My breast shall be your bed. 

The pale dew lies 
  Like a veil on my head. 
  My fair one, my fair dove, 
Arise, arise!1

From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
    From love's deep slumber and from death, 
For lo! the treees are full of sighs
    Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
    Where softly-burning fires appear, 
Making to tremble all those veils
    Of grey and golden gossamer.

While sweetly, gently, secretly,
    The flowery bells of morn are stirred 
And the wise choirs of faery
    Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

O cool is the valley now 
  And there, love, will we go 
For many a choir is singing now 
  Where Love did sometime go. 

And hear you not the thrushes calling, 
  Calling us away? 
O cool and pleasant is the valley 
  And there, love, will we stay.

Because your voice was at my side 
 I gave him pain, 
Because within my hand I held 
  Your hand again. 

There is no word nor any sign 
 Can make amend 
He is a stranger to me now 
 Who was my friend.

O Sweetheart, hear you 
  Your lover's tale; 
A man shall have sorrow 
  When friends him fail. 

For he shall know then 
	Friends be untrue 
And a little ashes 
  Their words come to. 

But one unto him 
  Will softly move 
And softly woo him 
  In ways of love. 

His hand is under 
  Her smooth round breast; 
So he who has sorrow 
  Shall have rest.

Be not sad because all men
    Prefer a lying clamour before you: 
Sweetheart, be at peace again -- -
    Can they dishonour you?

They are sadder than all tears;
    Their lives ascend as a continual sigh. 
Proudly answer to their tears:
    As they deny, deny.

In the dark pine-wood 
I would we lay, 
In deep cool shadow 
At noon of day. 

How sweet to lie there, 
Sweet to kiss, 
Where the great pine-forest 
Enaisled is! 

Thy kiss descending 
Sweeter were 
With a soft tumult 
Of thy hair. 

O unto the pine-wood 
At noon of day 
Come with me now, 
Sweet love, away.

He who hath glory lost, nor hath 
  Found any soul to fellow his, 
Among his foes in scorn and wrath 
  Holding to ancient nobleness, 
That high unconsortable one - 
His love is his companion.

Of that so sweet imprisonment
    My soul, dearest, is fain -- 
Soft arms that woo me to relent
    And woo me to detain. 
Ah, could they ever hold me there
Gladly were I a prisoner!

Dearest, through interwoven arms
    By love made tremulous, 
That night allures me where alarms
    Nowise may trouble us; 
But sleep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.

This heart that flutters near my heart 
  My hope and all my riches is, 
Unhappy when we draw apart 
  And happy between kiss and kiss; 
My hope and all my riches - yes! - 
And all my happiness. 

For there, as in some mossy nest 
  The wrens will divers treasures keep, 
I laid those treasures I possessed 
  Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep. 
Shall we not be as wise as they 
Though love live but a day?

Silently she's combing, 
  Combing her long hair, 
Silently and graciously, 
  With many a pretty air. 

The sun is in the willow leaves 
  And on the dappled grass, 
And still she's combing her long hair 
  Before the looking-glass. 

I pray you, cease to comb out, 
  Comb out your long hair, 
For I have heard of witchery 
  Under a pretty air, 

That makes as one thing to the lover 
  Staying and going hence, 
All fair, with many a pretty air 
  And many a negligence.

Lightly come or lightly go: 
  Though thy heart presage thee woe, 
Vales and many a wasted sun, 
  Oread, let thy laughter run, 
Till the irreverent mountain air 
Ripple all thy flying hair. 

Lightly, lightly - ever so: 
  Clouds that wrap the vales below 
At the hour of evenstar 
  Lowliest attendants are 
Love and laughter song-confessed 
When the heart is heaviest.

Thou leanest to the shell of night,
    Dear lady, a divining ear. 
In that soft choiring of delight
    What sound hath made thy heart to fear? 
Seemed it of rivers rushing forth
From the grey deserts of the north?

    That mood of thine, O timorous
Is his, if thou but scan it well,
    Who a mad tale bequeaths to us 
At ghosting hour conjurable --
    And all for some strange name he read 
   In Purchas or in Holinshed.

Though I thy Mithridates were,
    Framed to defy the poison-dart, 
Yet must thou fold me unaware
    To know the rapture of thy heart, 
And I but render and confess
The malice of thy tenderness.

For elegant and antique phrase,
    Dearest, my lips wax all too wise; 
Nor have I known a love whose praise
    Our piping poets solemnize, 
Neither a love where may not be
Ever so little falsity.

Gentle lady, do not sing 
  Sad songs about the end of love; 
Lay aside sadness and sing 
  How love that passes is enough. 

Sing about the long deep sleep 
  Of lovers that are dead, and how 
In the grave all love shall sleep: 
  Love is aweary now.

Dear heart, why will you use me so?
    Dear eyes that gently me upbraid, 
Still are you beautiful -- - but O,
    How is your beauty raimented!

Through the clear mirror of your eyes,
    Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, 
Desolate winds assail with cries
    The shadowy garden where love is.

And soon shall love dissolved be
    When over us the wild winds blow -- - 
But you, dear love, too dear to me,
    Alas! why will you use me so?

Love came to us in time gone by
    When one at twilight shyly played 
And one in fear was standing nigh -- -
    For Love at first is all afraid.

We were grave lovers. Love is past
    That had his sweet hours many a one; 
Welcome to us now at the last
    The ways that we shall go upon.

O, it was out by Donnycarney 
  When the bat flew from tree to tree 
My love and I did walk together; 
  And sweet were the words she said to me. 

Along with us the summer wind 
  Went murmuring - O, happily! - 
But softer than the breath of summer 
  Was the kiss she gave to me.

Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of [mem'ries.]1

Staying a little by the way
Of [mem'ries]1 shall we depart.
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart.

Now, O now, in this brown land
    Where Love did so sweet music make 
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
    Forbearing for old friendship' sake, 
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
    Is knocking, knocking at the tree; 
And all around our loneliness
    The wind is whistling merrily. 
The leaves -- - they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
    The vilanelle and roundelay! 
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
    We take sad leave at close of day. 
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything -- -
The year, the year is gathering.

Sleep now, O sleep now,
  O you unquiet heart!
A voice crying "Sleep now"
  Is heard in my heart.

The voice of the winter
  Is heard at the door.
O sleep, for the winter
  Is crying "Sleep no more."

My kiss will give peace now
  And quiet to your heart -
Sleep on in peace now,
  O you unquiet heart!

All day I hear the noise of waters
 Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is, when going
 Forth alone,
He hears the [winds]1 cry to the waters'
 Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
 Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
 Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them [flowing]2
 To and fro.

I hear an army charging upon the land,
  And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:
Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,
  Disdaining the reins, with flutt'ring whips, the charioteers.

They cry unto the night their battlename:
  I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.
They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,
  Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:
  They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.
My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?
  My love, my love, why have you left me alone?