Bend down your glittering urns
Ere yet the dawn returns,
And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;
Upon the air rain balm;
Bid all the woods be calm;
Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed.
That so the Maiden may
With smiles your care repay
When from her couch she lifts her golden head;
Waking with earliest birds,
Ere yet the misty herds
Leave warm 'mid the grey grass their dusky bed.
[Decoration]
_SONG._
Seek not the tree of silkiest bark
And balmiest bud,
To carve her name--while yet 't is dark--
Upon the wood!
The world is full of noble tasks
And wreaths hard-won:
Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands,
Till day is done.
Sing not that violet-veined skin,
That cheek's pale roses;
The lily of that form wherein
Her soul reposes!
Forth to the fight, true man, true knight!
The clash of arms
Shall more prevail than whispered tale
To win her charms.
The warrior for the True, the Right,
Fights in Love's name:
The love that lures thee from that fight
Lures thee to shame.
That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves
The spirit free,--
That love, or none, is fit for one,
Man-shaped like thee.
[Decoration]
_SONG._