| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| From “A Love-Trilogy” |
| | | Mathilde Blind (b. 1850) |
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| I CHARGE you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove, | |
| That ye blow o’er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I sicken for love. | |
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| I charge you, O dews of the Dawn, O tears of the star of the morn, | |
| That ye fall at the feet of my love with the sound of one weeping forlorn. | |
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| I charge you, O birds of the Air, O birds flying home to your nest, | 5 |
| That ye sing in his ears of the joy that forever has fled from my breast. | |
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| I charge you, O flowers of the Earth, O frailest of things, and most fair, | |
| That ye droop in his path as the life in me shrivels consumed by despair. | |
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| O Moon, when he lifts up his face, when he seeth the waning of thee, | |
| A memory of her who lies wan on the limits of life let it be. | 10 |
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| Many tears cannot quench, nor my sighs extinguish, the flames of love’s fire, | |
| Which lifteth my heart like a wave, and smites it, and breaks its desire. | |
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| I rise like one in a dream when I see the red sun flaring low, | |
| That drags me back shuddering from sleep each morning to life with its woe. | |
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| I go like one in a dream; unbidden my feet know the way | 15 |
| To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May. | |
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| The song of the throstle is hushed, and the fountain is dry to its core, | |
| The moon cometh up as of old; she seeks, but she finds him no more. | |
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| The pale-faced, pitiful moon shines down on the grass where I weep, | |
| My face to the earth, and my breast in an anguish ne’er soothed into sleep. | 20 |
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| The moon returns, and the spring, birds warble, trees burst into leaf, | |
| But love once gone, goes forever, and all that endures is the grief. | |
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