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Dream-Love
Young Love lies
sleeping
In May-time of the
year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender
light:
White lambs come
grazing,
White doves come
building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are
white.
Soft moss the pillow
For oh, a softer
cheek;
Broad leaves cast
shadow
Upon the heavy eyes:
There wind and
waters
Grow lulled and
scarcely speak;
There twilight lingers
The longest in the
skies.
Young Love lies
dreaming;
But who shall tell the
dream?
A perfect sunlight
On rustling forest
tips;
Or perfect moonlight
Upon a rippling
stream;
Or perfect silence,
Or song of cherished
lips.
Burn odours round
him
To fill the drowsy air;
Weave silent dances
Around him to and
fro;
For oh, in waking
The sights are no so
fair,
And song and silence
Are not like these
below.
Young Love lies
dreaming
Till summer days are
gone, -
Dreaming and
drowsing
Away to perfect
sleep:
He sees the beauty
Sun hath not looked
upon,
And tastes the
fountain
Unutterably deep.
Him perfect music
Doth hush unto his
rest,
And through the
pauses
The perfect silence
calms:
Oh, poor the voices
Of earth from east to
west,
And poor earth's
stillness
Between her stately
palms.
Young Love lies
drowsing
Away to poppied
death;
Cool shadows deepen
Across the sleeping
face:
So fails the summer
With warm delicious
breath;
And what hath
autumn
To give us in its
place?
Draw close the
curtains
Of branched
evergreen;
Change cannot touch
them
With fading fingers
sere:
Here first the violets
Perhaps with bud
unseen,
And a dove, may be,
Return to nestle here.
Dante Gabriel
Rossetti
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