Classic Poem

Golden dawn is breaking
Over land and sea:
All the birds are waking:
Does my love love me?

See, the morning's sweetness
At the window-pane!
Summer's full completeness
Has returned again.

In my heart all flowers
Seem to blossom now:
Bloom of woodbine-bowers;
Buds of apple-bough.

Hardly can I fancy
What is most in bloom, —
Jasmine, purple pansy,
Rosebuds in the room,

Or my own young gladness
Bidding sorrow flee,
Sorrow, pain, and sadness,
Over leagues of sea;

Bidding sorrow leave me
For the good God says
Nothing ought to grieve me
In these summer days;

Nothing ought to sadden
Mine, a young girl's heart;
All hours ought to gladden;
All pangs to depart.

There are wars and troubles
In the world, I know
— There are white foam-bubbles
On the stream below;

Fierce and strong and rapid
Does its current gleam,
While the poplars vapid
Watch it in a dream.

But I see the blossoms
At the water's edge;
Lilies' golden bosoms,
Feathery bloom of sedge.

When the sun amazes
All the banks so green,
Then I count the daisies,
Tipped with crimson sheen.

Gold-crest, wren, and linnet,
These I watch and love:
God sends every minute
Music from above.

In the morning early,
Singing in the sky
'Mid the cloud-wreaths pearly,
Chants the lark on high.

When the warm sun blanches
Midday with its heat,
In the beech-tree branches
Sings the throstle sweet.

Then the blackbird whistles
From the holly-tree:
Tom-tits from the thistles
Chirp, and call to me.

On the river-border
Red-breasts cut a dash;
Stout knights of the Order
Of the crimson sash.

Then the singer rarer,
While the moonrays gleam,
Makes the world a sharer
In her deathless dream.

So God sends me singers;
Till night's darkness deep
On the river lingers,
And the bird-choirs sleep.

II.

Yet far sweeter fancies
Fill my heart at times;
Sweeter than romances
Of far Eastern climes.

Yes, I have a lover!
Does my love love me?
He's a sailor-rover,
Married to the sea.

Yet I know he's faithful:
Though the waters blue
(Fierce perhaps, and wrathful?)
Bore him from my view.

Wheresoe'er he wanders,
Nigh what alien shores,
Sure am I he ponders
On me, and adores.

Hourly from his pocket
Sure am I he takes
That small golden locket,
Clasped by silver snakes.

Sure am I he gazes,
Wheresoe'er he be,
On three small dried daisies
In it ... and on me!

III.

God has given me gladness:
I must pass it on.
I must banish sadness,
Not be glad alone.

See the sun, how proudly
He bends down to bless:
Calls the daisy loudly
To his strong caress!

All on God dependent
Pass his blessings on.
In the sun resplendent?
He creates the moon.

I must give my pleasure
To the world again,
Glad beyond all measure,
I must lessen pain.

Hear me, Father, hear me!
Thou hast bent to bless:
Sent the sun to cheer me;
Sent the air's caress;

Sent the rosebuds trailing
At the window-pane;
Sent these petals hailing,
Gold laburnum-rain;

Sent the fragrant breathing
Of the fields in May,
Blossoms interwreathing,
Lilac-branch and spray;

Sent the dark-green laurel,
Sentry at the gate;
Birds that chirp and quarrel
Lest they be too late,

To my window flying
For the bread-crumbs there —
Titmouse pert and prying,
Chaffinch debonair!

— Let me give the gladness
Thou hast given to me
To some soul in sadness, —
Change to ecstasy

Sorrow of some laden
Weary heart and brain:
I, a laughing maiden,
I would solace pain.

With my touch caressing
I would soothe the sad;
Fill man's life with blessing,
Make the whole world glad!