A SONG OF LOVE,

Otago Witness, Issue 2456, 17 April 1901, Page 57

A SONG OF LOVE,

I think of thy kiss last night, I.i the garden's odorous gloom, "Where the spring-born lilies famt and pale, And the hone>ed lilacs bloom I think of thy kiss, my love, my life, And thy arms so sott a.id fan — Thy kiss "and thy clasping arms, O Love, On my burning heart I bear! Thy jewell'd bosom rose and fell Like a shimmering mconlit sea, As under the blossoming boughs we pass'd, That gained their sweets on thee. As under the blossoming boughs we pass'd, Our feet and our hearts kept time, For our spirit 3, attuned to possy, Moved in a goldeli rhyme. Thy virgin dress so white, so white, And thy tresses' amorous flow, In the half-moon light were beautiful, As ever a dream might show. Dreamy and soft with the light of love Weie thy dark and lustroas eyes, And the bieath from thy twin rose lips came s\\ eet As the air of Paradise 1 The moon on oui pathway shed A tender, silvery glow , The young-leaved boughs were wreathed above, As we were twined below. I felt the dew from the purple sky In diamond sparkles fall — Ths light and the shadows were beautiful, But thou more fair than all 1 I heaid a tremulous sigh Fiom the old acacia tree, 'Twas only the night wird lingering by, Sighing with lo\c for thee. The h'tle green boughs a-nbke, And waved their sprays to me, "While their a>ry tongues grew eloquent, - "Whispering prai=es of thee. Tli3 trill of the a'ght-bird's song On our languishing bosoms fell, Blent with the murmurous musical plash Of the brook in the shadowy dell. With thy sighs and my sighs it blent, And none were there to hear, Save the nightingale that poui'd her tale Of leve m the coppice near. — H. J. B. March, 1901. TO JOTCE JOCELYN. Permit me, through these faulty lines, - By love inspired, To thank thy pen for giving mine What it required , A task piopared by rhyme of thine— All poesy fired. No title can create a- peer! No painter's hand Entice the honeyseekers near, However grand His flowers— nor sounding name endear Our native land. Where mountain koromiko grows, 'Mid silver ram, To swell the ardent stream that flows Through every vein Of all on whom proud buth bestows Her maiden name. A babe of Empire, she, as yet All hid among The mists that fairies round her set To keep her young, The music of «vhose minuet Remains unsung — Till chance the wandering spirit finds Among her hills, Where Freedom with unharnessed winds The breast instils, A soulful pencil, to unbind The bong she wills. Hei matchless beauty shall indite An anthem teemed With deep cadenzas that delight Minds high esteemed — A theme that in some yestei-night Was dimly dreamed , And they who listen then, shall heir From o'er the deep, Like music rising fiom a clea:, Refreshing pleep, The-, 1 patriotic nnumui-, near Thy pencil sv.-cot. i. U.