Darling, why this dainty glow
Shifting on your cheeks of snow?
Why this look of summer skies
Shining in your lifted eyes?
What new words are in the breeze?
What new whispers in the trees?
What soft language gently drips
From the roses' crimson lips;
That you wear so fresh a joy
In your smiles and glances coy;
That in every gesture fine
Such a wonderment should shine?
Hath the Spirit of all beauty
Kissed you in the path of duty;
Or that angel of the wood,
Holy-hearted Solitude?
Have you listened to the singing
Of the meadow-grasses springing?
Heard the shadows, whispering, tell
How they woo the asphodel?
Or has something yet more sweet,
Stranger yet and more complete,
Met you in the hidden ways
Trod by these fair autumn days?
Something lovely as the bright
Flushing of the morning light;
Something mystic as the free
Mighty, music-haunted sea?
Ah, my darling, ruby flush
O'er the snow cheek need not rush--
One can read the whole sweet story
In your brow's transparent glory.
Scents of violets crushed and sweet,
Halt about your pensive feet;
Golden glimmers gild your hair,
And you need not whisper where
You have wandered since I pressed
You in farewell to my breast;
Need not whisper that the snare
Caught your wild wings unaware.
