. . let love to music set it,
I'll never speak it--nor forget it!
"No, no!" I cried, I tried to save you--
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress--I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only--
Dear gown--I hope you won't feel lonely!
THE LEAST POSSIBLE.
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
--With many, alas! that are not mine--
What will you give me in return?
The bow in Bond Street--in the Park
The smile all worship on your lips,
The courteous word at dinner--dance--
But never a blush--a conscious glance;
At most, at Henley, in the dark,
Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?
Ah, just for once, once only, be
An altar-server--stoop and set me
Upon the altar richly wrought
Of your most secret flower-sweet thought:
One nightlight's flicker burn for me
Before you sleep and quite forget me.
EN TOUT CAS.
WHEN I am glad I need your eyes
To be the stars of Paradise;
Your lips to be the seal of all
The joy life grants, and dreams recall;
Your hand, to lie my hands between
What time we walk the garden green.
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