Poems; with introdby Richard Garnett and illusby Byam Shaw . AY OF LOVE IJune was not over, Though past the full,And the best of her rosesHad yet to blow,When a man I know(But shall not discover, Since ears are dull,And time discloses)Turned him and said with a mans true air,Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as twere, If I tire of your June, will she greatly care? IIWell, Dear, in-doors with you ! True, serene deadnessTries a mans in the blossomJune wears on her bosom ?Can it clear scores with you ?Sweetness and redness,Eade^n semper !Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly!If Ju
Poems; with introdby Richard Garnett and illusby Byam Shaw . AY OF LOVE IJune was not over, Though past the full,And the best of her rosesHad yet to blow,When a man I know(But shall not discover, Since ears are dull,And time discloses)Turned him and said with a mans true air,Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as twere, If I tire of your June, will she greatly care? IIWell, Dear, in-doors with you ! True, serene deadnessTries a mans in the blossomJune wears on her bosom ?Can it clear scores with you ?Sweetness and redness,Eade^n semper !Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly!If June mends her bowers now, your hand left unsightlyBy plucking their roses,—my June will do rightly. IllAnd after, for pastime,If June be refulgentWith flowers in petals, no prickles,Delicious as tricklesOf wine poured at mass-time,—And choose One indulgentTo redness and sweetness :Or if, with experience of man and of use my June-lightning, the strong stop the fresh spinning,—why, June will consider. 369 2 A. MISCONCEPTIONS ? c? Tpiis is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure,Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,Fit for her nest and her , what a hope beyond measureWas the poor spra}s, which the flying feet hung to,-So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! II This is a heart the Queen leant on, Thrilled in a minute erratic,Ere the true bosom she bent on, Meet for loves regal dalmatic. Oh, what a fancy ecstaticWas the poor hearts, ere the wanderer went on—Loved to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on ! 370 ONE WORD MOREONE WORD MORE TO E. B. B. There they are, my fifty men and womenNaming me the fifty poems finished !Take them, Love, the book and me the heart hes, let the brain He also. II Rafael made a century of sonnets, Made and wrote them in a certain volume Dinted with the silver-pointed pencil Else he only used to draw Madonnas: These, the world might view—but One, the v
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Keywords: ., bookauthorgarnettr, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
