Rose Terry Cooke: Verses about Love

Night comes creeping slowly o'er me,
Like a vapor cold and gray;
Dim the track that lies before me,
Lost the lingering smile of day.

As a river, nearing ocean,
Drops the brooklet's merry bell,
I forget hope's wild emotion;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!

Eyes above me raining sorrow,
Lips too tender to be true,
In the sunshine of tomorrow
Glow and sweetness shall renew.

I have trod a weary measure,
Fairy-tales no more I tell.
False is pain, and fleeting pleasure;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!

Softly through the darkened heaven,
Like a vision in the night,
Float the purple wings of even;
No more laughter, no more light.

Close mine eyes, worn out with weeping,
Weary pulses rest as well!
In the dust and silence sleeping,
Love and life, farewell, farewell!

Sunset on the mountains hoary,
Deepens into night;
Day hath lost its crown of glory,
Life hath lost its light.

In mine eyes the tears are springing,
For thy face I see;
In my heart its dreams are singing,
Mournful songs of thee.

All the sunshine fled from heaven
With thy closing eyes;
Yet on me, at lonely even,
Clear as stars they rise.

Though the way be long and dreary
Down the mountain's side,
I no more can call it weary,
Thou art there my bride!

I behold thy garments flowing,
Snow-like, in the moon;
See thy parted lips are glowing,
Red as flowers in June.

Underneath the daisies lying,
Lost in dreamless sleep;
Thou hast heard my nightly crying,
Thou hast left my sleep.

All the night in visions tender,
Love and life return;
Until morning's cloudy splendor
O'er the hills shall burn.

Day glides o'er the meadow,
Love and life to steal;
But the first star's trembling shadow
Brings a bridal peal.

A thousand years shall come and go,
A thousand years of night and day,
And man, through all their changing show,
His tragic drama still shall play.

Ruled by some fond ideal's power,
Cheated by passion or despair,
Still shall he waste life's trembling hour,
In worship vain, and useless prayer.

Ah! where are they who rose in might,
Who fired the temple and the shrine,
And hurled, through earth's chaotic night,
The helpless gods it deemed divine?

Cease, longing soul, thy vain desire!
What idol, in its stainless prime,
But falls, untouched of axe or fire,
Before the steady eyes of Time.

He looks, and lo! our altars fall,
The shrine reveals its gilded clay,
With decent hands we spread the pall,
And, cold with wisdom, glide away.

Oh! where were courage, faith, and truth,
If man went wandering all his day
In golden clouds of love and youth,
Nor knew that both his steps betray?

Come, Time, while here we sit and wait,
Be faithful, spoiler, to thy trust!
No death can further desolate
The soul that knows its god was dust.

The summer sun bedecks Anjou,
The harvest time keeps promise true,
And I have kept my faith with you
Basile Renaud!
The sun forsakes my dungeon walls,
Across the fosse no shadow falls,
I hear no answer to my calls,
Basile Renaud!

My name was Clara Madaillon.
I had a sister, I had one
Who should have been a hooded nun,
That made us three:
Marie and I dwelt in the tower,
But Angelique forsook her dower,
And in a convent made her bower,
The convent of St. Brie.

There came a lover to our lands,
I wove my hair in shining bands
And put bright jewels on my hands,
Basile Renaud!
You looked at me as at a star,
You said I was as cold and far;
I laugh now, thinking what you are,
Basile Renaud!

He gave me a betrothal ring,
I learned for him to smile and sing;
'Proud Clara, have you found your king?'
They said to me.
So from the nuns came Angelique
For her farewells; oh! she was meek,
With yellow tresses down her cheek,
And blue eyes soft to see!

My love beheld her tender face,
Her little hands and gentle grace,-
How dared you give her my right place,
Basie Renaud?
I scoffed at her, I hated him;
And Marie said-'His eyes are dim;
Were't me-' So ran thy requiem,
Basile Renaud!

We took our counsel, nor would show
More signs of vengeance than the snow
That hides a traveller far below
Its shining drift.
The winter nights came on too fast,
But they two did not hear the blast
That howled, and howled, and shivered past,
And muttered in the rift.

One night we were both grave and gay,
For Angelique had gone away,
And one was sad, but two would play,
Basile Renaud.
The firelight flickered in the hall,
The sconces burned with torches tall;
I, blinded, hunted to the wall
Basile Renaud.

'Will you be hunter?' Marie said;
She tied the kerchief round his head;
I had a knife-and it grew red
But not with flame.
His brow bent down upon my arm.
I laughed to see the working charm.
He had no will to do us harm,
Nor breath to murmur blame.

They haled us to a prison high,
Where all day long thick shadows lie,
And in broad daylight we shall die,
Basile Renaud!
But I had vengeance! though there be
Only one sister left of three
Angelique in the nunnery
Basile Renaud!