Married Lovers.

Come away, the clouds are high,     Put the flashing needles by.     Many days are not to spare,     Or to waste, my fairest fair!     All is ready. Come to-day,     For the nightingale her lay,     When she findeth that the whole     Of her love, and all her soul,     Cannot forth of her sweet throat,     Sobs the while she draws her breath,     And the bravery of her note     In a few days altereth.     Come, ere she despond, and see     In a silent ecstasy     Chestnuts heave for hours and hours     All the glory of their flowers     To the melting blue above,     That broods over them like love.     Leave the garden walls, where blow     Apple-blossoms pink, and low     Ordered beds of tulips fine.     Seek the blossoms made divine     With a scent that is their soul.     These are soulless. Bring the white     Of thy gown to bathe in light     Walls for narrow hearts. The whole     Earth is found, and air and sea,     Not too wide for thee and me.     Not too wide, and yet thy face     Gives the meaning of all space;     And thine eyes, with starbeams fraught,     Hold the measure of all thought;     For of them my soul besought,     And was shown a glimpse of thine -     A veiled vestal, with divine     Solace, in sweet love's despair,     For that life is brief as fair.     Who hath most, he yearneth most,     Sure, as seldom heretofore,     Somewhere of the gracious more.     Deepest joy the least shall boast,     Asking with new-opened eyes     The remainder; that which lies     O, so fair! but not all conned -     O, so near! and yet beyond.     Come, and in the woodland sit,     Seem a wonted part of it.     Then, while moves the delicate air,     And the glories of thy hair     Little flickering sun-rays strike,     Let me see what thou art like;     For great love enthralls me so,     That, in sooth, I scarcely know.     Show me, in a house all green,     Save for long gold wedges' sheen,     Where the flies, white sparks of fire,     Dart and hover and aspire,     And the leaves, air-stirred on high,     Feel such joy they needs must sigh,     And the untracked grass makes sweet     All fair flowers to touch thy feet,     And the bees about them hum.     All the world is waiting. Come!