Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Choose
By Sarah Jane Lippincott (Grace Greenwood) (18231904)M
Upon the pleasant morning hours,
With songs of mated birds, and sighs
From virgin hearts of opening flowers.
Each smallest thought should come to thee,
As from the jasmine’s hidden cell
Flies home the richly burdened bee.
Upon the golden airs of noon,
With languid sweets from roses rare
That flush and faint through ardent June.
That fling out laughter as they run,
With all the brightness of the day,
With all the passion of the sun.
The purple lights grow pale and die—
When waves of sunshine roll no more,
And all one shade the corn-fields lie—
A deeper mystery to the sea—
Then, O beloved! my saddened heart
Yearns through the distance unto thee.
To sweep my lonely garden through,
To bow the saintly lily’s head,
And spill the violet’s cup of dew—
The elm’s long arms against the eaves,
Troubling the robin in its nest,
And making tumult in the leaves—
Strange sounds and whisperings of dread,
And every murmur in the grass
Seems some unfriendly spirit’s tread.
A nameless fear oppresseth me:
Oh, then my heart, like some lost child,
Calls through the darkness unto thee!
Choose thou the best and sweetest part:
The glow of day, or gloom of night;
The pride or terror of my heart;
The morning with its joyous strain,
Or twilight’s haunted loneliness,
That stretches out its arms in vain.
And were thy tenderest kiss bestowed
On eyes that droop with tears, or lips
With careless laughter overflowed?
That would thy secret choice divine;
Yet idly questions, knowing well
Thou canst not choose, since all is thine.