Джеральд Масси (Gerald Massey)

Love in Idleness

WE sit serenely 'neath the Night,
As still as stars, with swift delight;
In tears, that tell how in Life's deep
The hidden pearls of beauty sleep;
And silent, as of sleeping Seas,
And quiet, as of dreaming Trees:
The river of our bliss runs filled,
Its faintest happy murmur stilled.

Upon my forehead rests thy palm,
And on my spirit rests thy calm:
I cannot see thy face, but know
Its sea of rose-bloom hath a glow
Like ruby light: and richly lies
The dew and shadows in thine eyes;
That ask how they may soothliest bless,
Like crystal-wells of tenderness.

Warm fragrance, like the soul o' the South,
Is round thee; and thy damask mouth
Dissolves me in delicious death,
It doth so breathe ambrosial breath!
Musk-roses blowing in the gloom,
Drop fragrance fainting in the room;
And such fine sadness fills the air,
Ripe Life a bloom of dew doth wear.

We sit, with silent glory crowned,
And Love's arms wound in amorous round;
As on rich clouds of fragrance swim
The summer dusk, so cool, and dim!
While we our fields of pleasure reap
Our Babes lie in the wood of Sleep;
One—first love's dream of beauty wrought!
One—the more perfect after-thought!

The harping hand hath dulled the lyre
Of thrilling heart-strings.     By their fire
Droopt low, the dreamy Passions doze,
In large luxuriance of repose.
I only see—that thou art near;
I only feel—I have thee, Dear!
I only hear thy throbbing heart,
And know that we can never part.

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