I dared not lead my arm around Her dainty waist; I dared not seek her lips, that mine Hunger’d to taste: I dared not, for such awe I found, O Love divine!
I trembled as my eager hand Her light touch graced; And when her fond look answer’d mine, I dared not haste, But waited, holding my demand For farther sign.
Sweet mouth, that with so sweet a sound My dread hath chased, And to my lips the holy wine, Love’s vintage, placed! Dear heart, that ever now will bound Or rest with mine!
Countess, I see the flying year, And feel how Time is wasting here: Ay, more, he soon his worst will do, And garner all your roses too.
It pleases Time to fold his wings Around our best and fairest things; He’ll mar your blooming cheek, as now He stamps his mark upon my brow.
The same mute planets rise and shine To rule your days and nights as mine: Once I was young and gay, and see-- What I am now you soon will be.
And yet I boast a certain charm That shields me from your worst alarm; And bids me gaze, with front sublime, On all these ravages of Time.
You boast a gift to charm the eyes, I boast a gift that Time defies: For mine will still be mine, and last When all your pride of beauty’s past.
My gift may long embalm the lures Of eyes--ah, sweet to me as yours! For ages hence the great and good Will judge you as I choose they should.
In days to come the peer or clown, With whom I still shall win renown, Will only know that you were fair Because I chanced to say you were.
Proud Lady! Scornful beauty mocks At aged heads and silver locks; But think awhile before you fly, Or spurn a poet such as I.
The sun is bright,--the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing, And from the stately elms I hear The bluebird prophesying spring.
So blue yon winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky, Where waiting till the west-wind blows, The freighted clouds at anchor lie.
All things are new,--the buds, the leaves, That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest, And even the nest beneath the eaves;-- There are no birds in last year’s nest!
All things rejoice in youth and love, The fulness of their first delight! And learn from the soft heavens above The melting tenderness of night.
Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For O, it is not always May!