JEALOUSY
The violets their soft, dark lashes part,
While robins serenade them far and near;
But the anemone, with ebon heart
And blood-shot eyes, pretends she does not hear.
The violets invite the nightingale
Whose carols fall in dew upon their bed;
But the hydrangea, as saffron pale,
Holds high above the wall her nodding head.
BENEATH THE SALVIAS
Beneath the salvias, where some angel slew
The favors that were granted by his god,
My heart is hidden; let thy feet be shod
With feathers plucked from my wings of crimson hue.
When here again thou might'st be wandering through;
Look not above; I'm breathing in the sod,
A-mindless of the years, 'neath which I'm trod—
Of Spring birds' song, or shrieks of Winter's crew.
Here let me sleep, my lady: wake me not;
Here let me gather, hidden from the moon
And the sun, the strength to rise again and see;
No sweeter, dearer, more enchanting spot
Is there for my sick heart; O, not so soon—
Awake me not — O, let me dream of thee.
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