Eäriné by William Allingham

Eäriné

Saint Valentine kindles the crocus,
Saint Valentine wakens the birds;
I would that his power could evoke us
In tender and musical words!

I mean, us unconfident lovers,
Whose doubtful or stammering tongue
No help save in rhyming discovers;
Since what can't be said may be sung.

So, Fairest and Sweetest, your pardon
(If no better welcome) I pray!
There 's spring-time in grove and in garden;
Perchance it may breathe in my lay.

I think and I dream (did you know it?)
Of somebody's eyes, her soft hair,
The neck bending whitely below it,
The dress that she chances to wear.

Each tone of her voice I remember,
Each turn of her head, of her arm;
Methinks, had she faults out of number,
Being hers, they were certain to charm.

From her every distance I measure;
Each mile of a journey, I say
"I 'm so much the nearer my treasure,"
Or "so much the farther away."

And love writes my almanac also;
The good days and bad days occur,
The fasts and the festivals fall so,
By seeing or not seeing her.

Who know her, they 're happy, they only;
Whatever she looks on turns bright;
Wherever she is not, is lonely;
Wherever she is, is delight.

So friendly her face that I tremble,
On friendship so sweet having ruth;
But why should I longer dissemble?
Or will you not guess at the truth?

And that is dear Maiden, I love you!
You sweetest and brightest and best!
Good-luck to the roof-tree above you,
The floor where your footstep is press'd!

May some new deliciousness meet you
On every new day of the Spring;
Each flow'r in its turn blooin to greet you,
Lark, mavis, and nightingale sing!

May kind vernal powers in your bosom
Their tenderest influence shed!
May I when the rose is in blossom
Enweave you a crown, white and red!