| |
| FAIR maiden, thou didst wait for me; | |
| I saw thee over leagues of snow. | |
| Set forth the plumy cedar-tree, | |
| Weave holly and the mistletoe— | |
| Green holly with its berries red, | 5 |
| And let an ample board be spread; | |
| Bring kisses and the elder wine | |
| To usher in Saint Valentine. | |
| |
| Lift not again the flaxen skein | |
| And put aside the spinning-wheel; | 10 |
| Such task this night I deem is vain | |
| For hand so shapely, heart so leal. | |
| Touch yonder ancient harpischord | |
| And reap my praise as thy reward, | |
| And let the winter back-log shine | 15 |
| In honor of Saint Valentine. | |
| |
| What sculptor carved thy lissom form? | |
| From lilies tall has caught thy grace? | |
| Thou, with a wavering, dusky storm | |
| Of tresses blown about thy face— | 20 |
| Thy face, as some lone jewel rare | |
| Framed deeply in its crown of hair. | |
| Thy voice is music’s self divine | |
| And well might charm Saint Valentine. | |
| |
| Look! far down the ashen skies | 25 |
| See how yon star descending slips. | |
| Gray was it once as thy clear eyes; | |
| Red, when it fell as thy curved lips. | |
| Turn, turn again; the shadows fall, | |
| And fancifully on the wall | 30 |
| The mistletoe and holly twine | |
| To greet the good Saint Valentine. | |
| |
| The pale moon wanes, and I must go. | |
| Up, up and speed the parting guest! | |
| What if thy heart is chill as snow, | 35 |
| More bitter still is my unrest, | |
| For I must fly who fain would wait. | |
| Yea! fate is love, and love is fate. | |
| Clasp hands and kiss, for thou art mine | |
| And I am thy Saint Valentine. | 40 |
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