Palabras Cariñosas There is an hour when holy dreams My thoughts of thee too sacred are I can but know thee as my star, My angel and my dream! 685 Edward George Earle Bulwer Lytton [1803-1873] NOCTURNE Up to her chamber window I lounge in the ilex shadows, The curtain's folds between. She smiles on her white-rose lover, To her scarlet lip she holds him, Ah, me! it was he that won her Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907] PALABRAS CARIÑOSAS SPANISH AIR GOOD-NIGHT! I have to say good-night Good-night to fond, uplifted eyes, But there will come a time, my love, I shall not linger by this porch With my farewells. Till then, good-night! You would have blushed yourself to death What, both these snowy hands! ah, then I'll have to say Good-night again! Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907] SERENADE THE western wind is blowing fair And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spread, The watchman sleeps within the town; O leave thy lily-flowered bed, O Lady mine, come down, come down! She will not come, I know her well, True love is but a woman's toy, They never know the lover's pain, And I, who love as loves a boy, Must love in vain, must love in vain. The Little Red Lark O noble pilot, tell me true, Is that the sheen of golden hair? Or is it but the tangled dew That binds the passion-flowers there? Good sailor, come and tell me now, Is that my Lady's lily hand? Or is it but the gleaming prow, Or is it but the silver sand? No! no! 'tis not the tangled dew, 'Tis not the silver-fretted sand, It is my own dear Lady true With golden hair and lily hand! O noble pilot, steer for Troy! Good sailor, ply the laboring oar! This is the Queen of life and joy Whom we must bear from Grecian shore! The waning sky grows faint and blue; O loved as only loves a boy! O loved for ever, evermore! 687 Oscar Wilde [1856-1900] THE LITTLE RED LARK O SWAN of slenderness, Dove of tenderness, Jewel of joys, arise! The little red lark, Like a soaring spark Of song, to his sunburst flies; But till thou art arisen, Earth is a prison, Full of my lonesome sighs: Then awake and discover, To thy fond lover, The morn of thy matchless eyes. The dawn is dark to me, Pulse of my heart, I pray! Dazzle me with thy day. Laughing on every spray. Alfred Perceval Graves [1846 THE COMEDY OF LOVE A LOVER'S LULLABY SING lullaby, as women do, Wherewith they bring their babes to rest; And lullaby can I sing too, As womanly as can the best. First lullaby my youthful years, Have won the haven within my head. Since courage quails and comes behind, Next lullaby my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace; For every glass may now suffice And lullaby my wanton will; Let reason's rule now reign thy thought; Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought; |