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Christopher Brennan - And Does She Still Perceive
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And does she still perceive, her curtain drawn, 
 white fields, where maiden Dawn 
 is anguish`d with the untold approach of joy? 
 or in the wooing forenoon softly pass 
 where of our little friends 
 that knew us, girl and boy, 
 the delicate feather-pinks, each dainty greeting bends 
 before her step, amid the pale sweet grass? 
 or warmer flush 
 our poppies with her blush 
 as the long day of love grows bold for the red kiss 
 and dreams of bliss 
 dizzy the brain and awe the youthful blood? 
 Surely her longing gaze hath call`d them forth 
 the bashful blue-eyed flower-births of the North, 
 forget-me-nots and violets of the wood, 
 those maids that slept beneath the snow, and every gracious thing 
 that glads the spring! 
 — Ah sweet! but dream me in thy landscape there 
 as I have pictured thee 
 and I shall rest the long day at thy knee 
 beneath thy hair: 
 and Thou and I unconscious of surprise 
 but innocently quiet and gravely glad 
 and just a little sad 
 with longing long repress`d, 
 shall fill with grace each other`s welcome eyes 
 till the shy evening rise 
 and the streaming lilac-bloom enchant the drowsed air, 
 hushing it soft and warm round pillows press`d 
 by happy lovers` rest 
 lost in that timeless hour when breast is joined to breast.
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