3.

Catch not my breath, O clamorous heart, Let not my tongue be a thrall to my eye,

For I must tell her before we part,

I must tell her, or die.

XVII.

Go not, happy day,

From the shining fields,

Go not, happy day,

Till the maiden yields.

Rosy is the West,

Rosy is the South,

Roses are her cheeks,

And a rose her mouth.

When the happy Yes

Falters from her lips,

Pass and blush the news

O'er the blowing ships.

Over blowing seas,

Over seas at rest,

Pass the happy news,

Blush it thro' the West;

Till the red man dance

By his red cedar tree,

And the red man's babe

Leap, beyond the sea.

Blush from West to East,

Blush from East to West,

Till the West is East,

Blush it thro' the West.

Rosy is the West,

Rosy is the South,

Roses are her cheeks,

And a rose her mouth.

XVIII.

1.

I HAVE led her home, my love, my only friend.

There is none like her, none.

And never yet so warmly ran my blood

And sweetly, on and on

Calming itself to the long-wish'd-for end,

Full to the banks, close on the promised good.

None like her, none.

2.

Just now the dry-tongued laurels' pattering talk

Seem'd her light foot along the garden walk,

And shook my heart to think she comes once more;

But even then I heard her close the door,

The gates of Heaven are closed, and she is gone.

3.

There is none like her, none.

Nor will be when our summers have deceased.

O, art thou sighing for Lebanon

In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious

East,

Sighing for Lebanon,

Dark cedar, tho' thy limbs have here increased,

Upon a pastoral slope as fair,

And looking to the South, and fed

With honey'd rain and delicate air,

And haunted by the starry head

Of her whose gentle will has changed my fate,

And made my life a perfumed altar-flame ;

And over whom thy darkness must have spread

With such delight as theirs of old, thy great