Serenade Awake! Awake! 675 Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!-Soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead, and thorny brake; Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes, Dawn forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!-Within the musk-rose bower I watch, pale flower of love, for thee; Ah, come, and show the starry hour What wealth of love thou hid'st from me! Show all thy love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!-Ne'er heed, though listening night Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright, And bid the world and me rejoice! Awake! She comes, at last, for Love's sweet sake! SERENADE SOFTLY, O midnight Hours! Move softly o'er the bowers Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair! For ye have power, men say, Our hearts in sleep to sway, And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare. Round ivory neck and arm Enclasp a separate charm; Hang o'er her poised, but breathe nor sigh nor prayer: But hold your breath the while, And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair! Bend down your glittering urns, Ere yet the dawn returns, And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread; Bid all the woods be calm, Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed; That so the Maiden may With smiles your care repay, When from her couch she lifts her golden head; Ere yet the misty herds Leave warm 'mid the gray grass their dusky bed. Aubrey Thomas De Vere [1814-1902] LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR I ARISE from dreams of thee Has led me-who knows how? The wandering airs they faint Like sweet thoughts in a dream; As I must die on thine, O beloved as thou art! O lift me from the grass! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast; Where it must break at last. Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822] Serenade 677 GOOD-NIGHT GOOD-NIGHT? ah! no; the hour is ill Then it will be good night. How can I call the lone night good, To hearts which near each other move They never say good-night. Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822] SERENADE From "Sylvia" AWAKE thee, my lady-love, Wake thee and rise! The sun through the bower peeps Into thine eyes! Behold how the early lark Springs from the corn! Hark, hark how the flower-bird Winds her wee horn! The swallow's glad shriek is heard All through the air; The stock-dove is murmuring Loud as she dare! Apollo's winged bugleman Cannot contain, But peals his loud trumpet-call Once and again! Then wake thee, my lady-love Bird of my bower! The sweetest and sleepiest Bird at this hour! George Darley [1795-1846] SERENADE Ан, sweet, thou little knowest how Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep! And bless thee in thy silent bower; Thomas Hood (1799-1845] SERENADE Look out upon the stars, my love, Of blending shades and light: Sleep not!-thine image wakes for aye Within my watching breast; Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly, Who robs all hearts of rest. Serenade Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break, With looks whose brightness well might make Of darker nights a day. 679 Edward Coate Pinkney [1802-1828] SERENADE HIDE, happy damask, from the stars, On which the dreams of midnight sail; And then return to tell me all The silken secrets of the room. Ah! dearest! may the elves that sway And one perhaps shall whisper thus: Awake! and light the darkness, Sweet! While thou art reveling with us, He watches in the lonely street. Henry Timrod [1829-1867] SERENADE From "The Spanish Student" STARS of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps! Moon of the summer night! Far down yon western steeps, Sink, sink in silver light! |