LOVE’S GOING

Love lies a-sleeping; maiden, softly sing, Lest he should waken; pluck the falling rose A-brushing ’gainst his cheek, her glowing heart Ope’d to the sun’s hot kisses—foolish thing, To list the tale oft told!—but summer goes, And all the roses’ petals fall apart. Love lies a-sleeping; let the curtains part So that the breeze may lightly to him sing A lullaby—the changeful breeze that goes A-whispering through the grass, where’er it rose, Where’er it listeth bound, a wilful thing, Low murmuring sweets from an inconstant heart. Love lies a-sleeping: press the pulsing heart That beats against thy bosom: stand apart And stay thine eager breath, lest anything Should mar his rest—the songs that lovers sing, The tale the butterfly tells to the rose, The low wind to the grass, and onward goes. Love lies a-sleeping: ah, how swiftly goes The sweet delusion he hath taught thy heart, Fair maiden, pressing to thy breast the rose, Whose fun-kissed petals sadly fall apart, With thy quick breath! Thy rhyme wouldst hear him sing Which yesterday seemed such a foolish thing? Love lies a-sleeping: nay, for such a thing Break not his slumber. See how sweetly goes That smile across his lips, that will not sing For very wilfulness. Love hath no heart! If he should wake, these red-ripe lips would part In laughter low to see this ravished rose. Love lies a-sleeping: so the full-blown rose Falls to the earth a dead unpitied thing; The grasses ’neath the breeze deep-sighing part And sway; and as thy warm breath comes and goes In motion with the red tides of thy heart, The song is hushed which Love was wont to sing. Love lies a-sleeping: thus in dreams he goes; Strive not to waken him, but tell thy heart. “Love lies a-sleeping, and he may not sing.” Charles W. Coleman, Jun.