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, 
              Pale flowers on his mantle, 
                    Dark leaves on his hair.

              All softly playing, 
                    With head to the 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 thought 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 hear you singing 
                    A merry air. 

              My book was 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 merry 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! 

              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 lseep 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 dapplled 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 
              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 memories. 

              Staying a little by the way 
                    Of memories 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 cry to the water's 
                    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 
                    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 fluttering ships, the charioteers.

              They cry unto the night their battle-name: 
                    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, my love, why have you left me alone?