_Andrew Lang_.




XXI.

I have a lady as dear to me
As the westward wind and shining sea,
As breath of spring to the verdant lea,
As lover's songs and young children's glee.

Swiftly I pace thro' the hours of light,
Finding no joy in the sunshine bright,
Waiting 'till moon and far stars are white,
Awaiting the hours of silent night.

Swiftly I fly from the day's alarms,
Too sudden desires, false joys and harms,
Swiftly I fly to my loved one's charms,
Praying the clasp of her perfect arms.

Her eyes are wonderful, dark and deep,
Her raven tresses a midnight steep,
But, ah, she is hard to hold and keep--
My lovely lady, my lady Sleep!

_Leolyn Louise Everett_.