Chapter C: H. Lüders

* * * * *

You know it is late,
And the night's growing colder,
Still you lean o'er the gate.
You know it is late,
There's a fire in the grate,
Ah! sweetheart, be bolder.
You know it is late,
And the night's growing colder.

_The "Century."_

* * * * *

Under the sun
There's nothing new;
Poem or pun,
Under the sun,
Said Solomon,
And he said true.
Under the sun
There's nothing new.

"_Love in Idleness._"

SERENADE TRIOLET.

Why is the moon
Awake when thou sleepest?
To the nightingale's tune
Why is the moon
Making a noon
When night is the deepest?
Why is the moon
Awake when thou sleepest?

GEORGE MACDONALD.

TRIOLETS.

Few in joy's sweet riot
Able are to listen:
Thou, to make me quiet,
Quenchest the sweet riot,
Tak'st away my diet,
Puttest me in prison-
Quenchest joy's sweet riot
That the heart may listen.

* * * * *

Spring sits on her nest,
Daisies and white clover;
And young love lies at rest
In the Spring's white nest,
For she loves me best,
And the cold is over;
Spring sits on her nest,
Daisies and white clover.

* * * * *

In his arms thy silly lamb
Lo! he gathers to his breast!
See, thou sadly bleating dam,
See him lift thy silly lamb!
Hear it cry, "How blest I am!-
Here is love and love is rest,"
In his arms thy silly lamb
See him gather to his breast!

GEORGE MACDONALD.

SONG.

I.

I was very cold
In the summer weather;
The sun shone all his gold,
But I was very cold-
Alone, we were grown old,
Love and I together!-
Oh, but I was cold
In the summer weather!

II.

Sudden I grew warmer,
When the brooks were frozen:-
"To be angry is to harm her,"
I said, and straight grew warmer.
"Better men, the charmer
Knows at least a dozen!"-
I said, and straight grew warmer,
Though the brooks were frozen.

III.

Spring sits on her nest-
Daisies and white clover;
And my heart at rest
Lies in the spring's young nest:
My love she loves me best,
And the frost is over!
Spring sits on her nest-
Daisies and white clover!

GEORGE MACDONALD.

UNDER THE ROSE.

HE (_aside_).

If I should steal a little kiss,
Oh, would she weep, I wonder?
I tremble at the thought of bliss,-
If I should steal a little kiss!
Such pouting lips would never miss
The dainty bit of plunder;
If I should steal a little kiss,
Oh, would she weep, I wonder?

SHE (_aside_).

He longs to steal a kiss of mine--
He may, if he'll return it:
If I can read the tender sign,
He longs to steal a kiss of mine;
"In love and war"--you know the line
Why cannot he discern it?
He longs to steal a kiss of mine--
He may if he'll return it.

BOTH (_five minutes later_).

A little kiss when no one sees,
Where is the impropriety?
How sweet amid the birds and bees
A little kiss when no one sees!
Nor is it wrong, the world agrees,
If taken with sobriety.
A little kiss when no one sees,
Where is the impropriety?

SAMUEL MINTURN PECK.

Warm from the wall she chose a peach,
She took the wasps for councillors;
She said, "Such little things can teach;"
Warm from the wall she chose a peach;
She waved the fruit within my reach,
Then passed it to a friend of hers:--
Warm from the wall she chose a peach,
She took the wasps for councillors.

EMILY PFEIFFER.

TWO TRIOLETS.

I.

_What he said._

This kiss upon your fan I press,
Ah! Saint Nitouche, you don't refuse it,
And may it from its soft recess,
This kiss upon your fan I press
Be blown to you a shy caress
By this white down whene'er you use it;
This kiss upon your fan I press,
Ah! Saint Nitouche, you don't refuse it.

II.

_What she thought._

To kiss a fan!
What a poky poet!
The stupid man
To kiss a fan,
When he knows that--he--can,
Or ought to know it.
To kiss a fan!
What a poky poet!

HARRISON ROBERTSON.

SIX TRIOLETS.

DEAR READER.

If you never write verses yourself,
Dear reader, I leave it with you,
You will grant a half-inch of your shelf,
If you never write verses yourself.
It was praised by some lenient elf,
It was damned by a heavy review;
If you never write verses yourself,
Dear reader, I leave it with you.

TRANSPONTINE.

Ices--Programmes--Lemonade!
'E thinks 'e's a Hirving, my eye!
Why, Pussy, you're crying: afraid?
Ices--Programmes--Lemonade!
It's the first time you've seen a piece played?
Its pretty, but, Pussy, don't cry.
Ices--Programmes--Lemonade!
'E thinks 'e's a Hirving, my eye!

OUT.

I killed her? Ah, why do they cheer?
Are those twenty years gone to-day?
Why, she was my wife, sir, dear-so dear.
I killed her? Ah, why do they cheer?
... Ah hound! He was shaking with fear,
And I rushed--with a knife, they say....
I killed her? Ah, why do they cheer?
Are those twenty years gone to-day?

[_v._ Police Reports of the release of George Hall from Birmingham
prison.]

A HUPROAR.

Down 'Ob'n, sir? Circus, Bank, Bank!
'Ere's a huproar, my bloomin', hoff side!
A flower, miss? Ah, thankee, miss, thank-
Down 'Ob'n, sir? Circus, Bank, Bank!
'Igher up! 'Ullo, Bill, wot a prank!
If that 'ere old carcase aint shied!
Down 'Ob'n, sir? Circus, Bank, Bank!
'Ere's a huproar, my bloomin', hoff side!

SPRING VOICES.

Fine Violets! fresh Violets! come buy!
Ah, rich man! I would not be you.
All spring-time it haunts me, that cry:-
Fine Violets! fresh Violets! come buy!
Whose loss if she tell me a lie?
"They're starving; my God, sir, it's true."
Fine Violets! fresh Violets! come buy!
Ah, rich man! I would not be you!

BETWEEN THE LINES.

Cigar lights! yer honour? Cigar lights?
May God forget you in your need.
Ay, damn you! if folks get their rights
(Cigar lights! yer honour?-cigar lights)
Their babies shan't starve in the nights
For wanting the price of your weed-
Cigar lights! yer honour? Cigar lights!
May God forget you in your need!

ERNEST RADFORD.

FROM "FIAMETTA".

Since I am her's and she is mine
We live in Love and fear no change!
For Love is God, so we divine.
Since I am her's and she is mine,
In some fair love-land far and fine,
Through golden years our feet shall range.
Since I am her's and she is mine,
We live in Love and fear no change.

Why dost thou look so pale, my Love?
Why dost thou sigh and say Farewell?
"These myrtles seem a cypress grove."
Why dost thou look so pale, my Love?
"I hear the raven, not the dove,
And for the marriage-peal, a knell."
Why dost thou look so pale, my Love?
Why dost thou sigh and say Farewell?

"Since I can never come again,
When I am dead and gone from here,
Grieve not for me; all grief's in vain,
Since I can never come again;
But let no thought of me remain.
With my last kiss give thy last tear,
Since I can never come again,
When I am dead and gone from here."

All the night and all the day
I think upon her lying dead,
With lips that neither kiss nor pray
All the night nor all the day.
In that dark grave whose only ray
Of sun or moon's her golden head,
All the night and all the day
I think upon her lying dead.

Why should I live alone,
Since Love was all in vain?
My heart to thine is flown-
Why should I live alone?
Dost thou too make thy moan,
In Paradise complain:
Why should I live alone,
Since Love was all in vain?

What can heal a broken heart?
Death alone, I fear me,
Thou that dost true lovers part,
What can heal a broken heart?
Death alone, that made the smart,
Death, that will not hear me.
What can heal a broken heart?
Death alone, I fear me.

A. MARY F. ROBINSON.

A SNOWFLAKE IN MAY.

I saw a snowflake in the air
When smiling May had decked the year,
And then 'twas gone, I knew not where,--
I saw a snowflake in the air,
And thought perchance an angel's prayer
Had fallen from some starry sphere;
I saw a snowflake in the air
When smiling May had decked the year.

CLINTON SCOLLARD.

APOLOGY FOR GAZING AT A YOUNG LADY IN CHURCH.

The sermon was long
And the preacher was prosy.
Dou you think it was wrong?
The sermon was long,
The temptation was strong,
Her cheeks were so rosy.
The sermon was long
And the preacher was prosy.

_The Century Magazine._

A TINY TRIP.

THE BILL OF LADING.

She was cargo and crew,
She was boatswain and skipper,
She was passenger too
Of the _Nutshell_ canoe;
And the eyes were so blue
Of this sweet tiny tripper!
She was cargo and crew,
She was boatswain and skipper!

THE PILOT.

How I bawled "Ship, ahoy!"
Hard by Medmenham Ferry!
And she answered with joy,
She moved like a convoy,
And would love to employ
A bold pilot so merry.
How I bawled "Ship, ahoy!"
Hard by Medmenham Ferry!

THE VOYAGE.

'Neath the trees gold and red
In that bright autumn weather,
When our white sails were spread
O'er the waters we sped-
What was it she said?
When we drifted together!
'Neath the trees gold and red
In that bright autumn weather!

THE HAVEN.

Ah! the moments flew fast,
But our trip too soon ended!
When we reached land at last,
And our craft was made fast,
It was six or half-past-
And Mama looked offended!
Ah! the moments flew fast,
But our trip too soon ended.

J. ASHBY STERRY.

VESTIGIA.

I.

I saw her shadow on the grass
That day we walked together.
Across the field where the pond was
I saw her shadow on the grass.
And now I sigh and say, Alas!
That e'er in summer weather
I saw her shadow on the grass
That day we walked together!

II.

Hope bowed his head in sleep:
Ah me and wellaway!
Although I cannot weep,
Hope bowed his head in sleep.
The heavy hours creep:
When is the break of day?
Hope bowed his head in sleep,
Ah me and wellaway!

III.

The sea on the beach
Flung the foam of its ire.
We watched without speech
The sea on the beach,
And we clung each to each
As the tempest shrilled higher
And the sea on the beach
Flung the foam of its ire.

IV.

When Love is once dead
Who shall awake him?
Bitter our bread
When Love is once dead
His comforts are fled,
His favours forsake him.
When Love is once dead
Who shall awake him?

V.

Love is a swallow
Flitting with spring:
Though we would follow,
Love is a swallow,
All his vows hollow:
Than let us sing,
Love is a swallow
Flitting with spring.

ARTHUR SYMONS.

* * * * *

A poor cicala, piping shrill,
I may not ape the Nightingale,
I sit upon the sun-browned hill,
A poor cicala, piping shrill
When summer noon is warm and still,
Content to chirp my homely tale;
A poor cicala piping shrill,
I may not ape the Nightingale.

GRAHAM R. TOMSON.

THREE TRIOLETS.

I.

Love's footsteps shall not fail nor faint,
He will not leave our hearth again:
So safely lulled his murmuring plaint,
Love's footsteps shall not fail nor faint;
All clasped and bound in fond constraint,
And circled with a shining chain,
Love's footsteps shall not fail nor faint,
He will not leave our hearth again.

II.

Your rose-red bonds are all in vain,
If bound Love weep for weariness:
His faded eyes are drowned in rain.
Your rose-red bonds are all in vain,
He murmurs low a dull refrain,
And turns his lips from our caress-
Your rose-red bonds are all in vain
If bound Love weep for weariness!

III.

That grey, last day we said goodbye
Makes winter weather in my heart;
Dull cloud wreaths veiled our summer sky
That grey, last day we said goodbye
And loosed faint love; I wonder why
(For _then_, in truth, 'twas well to part)
That grey, last day we said goodbye
Makes wintry weather in my heart.

GRAHAM R. TOMSON.

TRIOLET.

The roses are dead,
And swallows are flying:
White, golden, and red,
The roses are dead;
Yet tenderly tread
Where their petals are lying.
The roses are dead,
And swallows are flying.

GRAHAM R. TOMSON.

REJECTED.

You've spoken of love,
And I've answered with laughter;
You've kissed--my kid glove.
You've spoken of love.
Why! powers above?
Is there more to come after.
You've spoken of love
And I've answered with laughter.

Her lips were so near
That--what else could I do?
You'll be angry, I fear,
Her lips were so near.
Well, I can't make it clear
Or explain it to you.
Her lips were so near
That--what else could I do?

_From "The Century."_

A PAIR OF GLOVES.

My love of loves--my May,
In rippling shadows lying,
Was sleeping mid the hay--
My love of loves--my May!
The ardent sun was trying
To kiss her dreams away!
My love of loves--my May,
In rippling shadows lying.

I knelt and kissed her lips,
Sweeter than any flower
The bee for honey sips!
I knelt and kissed her lips,--
And as her dark eyes' power
Awoke from sleep's eclipse,
I knelt and kissed her lips,
Sweeter than any flower!

The pair of gloves I won,
My darling pays in kisses!
Long may the sweet debt run--
The pair of gloves I won!
Till death our loves dismisses
This feud will ne'er be done--
The pair of gloves I won,
My darling pays in kisses!