Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79.
Love in Winter
By Robert Buchanan (1841–1901)And every rose shall fall,
For sure as summer closes
They perish, one and all.
Then love, while leaves are on the tree,
And birds sing in the bowers:
When winter comes, too late ’t will be
To pluck the happy flowers.”
An ancient girl, in sooth;
The dizzy room is ringing
With her shrill song of youth;
The white keys sob as swift she tries
Each shrill and shrieking scale:
“O, love is like the roses!” cries
This muslined nightingale.
I close my eyes and ears,
And call up, while reposing,
A glimpse from other years;
A genre-picture, quaint and Dutch,
I see from this dark seat,—
’T is full of human brightness, such
As makes remembrance sweet.
(In Holland lies the scene),
Where many pollard-shadows
O’er nut-brown ditches lean;
Gray clouds above that never break,
Mists the pale sunbeams stripe,
With groups of steaming cattle, make
A landscape “after Cuyp.”
A cottage near a road,
Where some meek pastoral poet
Might make a glad abode;
A cottage with a garden, where
Prim squares of pansies grow,
And, sitting on a garden-chair,
A dame with locks of snow,
With petticoat of red,
And on her bosom modest
A kerchief white bespread.
Alas! the breast that heaves below
Is shrivelled now and thin,
Though vestal thoughts as white as snow
Still palpitate within.
And folded on her knee;
Her lips, that meet precisely,
Are moving quietly.
She listens while the dreamy bells
O’er the dark flats intone,—
Now come, now gone, in dying swells
The Sabbath sounds are blown.
Her eye a violet dim;
Half in her chair she dozes,
And hums a happy hymn.
But soft! what wonder makes her start
And lift her aged head,
While the faint flutterings of her heart
Just touch her cheek with red?
An aged wight steps slow,
Then pauses, doffing straightway
His broad-brimmed gay chapeau!
Swallow-tailed coat of blue so grand,
With buttons bright beside,
He wears, and in his trembling hand
A nosegay, ribbon-tied.
In breeches of nankeen,
His wrinkled face looks brightly,
So rosy, fresh, and clean:
For old he is and wrinkled plain,
With locks of golden-gray,
And leaning on a tasselled cane
He hobbles on his way.
The silent mill hard by,
To this so happy lover
Sing out with summer cry!
He hears thee, though his blood is cold,
She hears, though deaf and weak;
She stands to greet him, as of old,
A blush upon her cheek.
By some sad wind of woe;
Forlorn and broken-hearted
Each faltered, long ago;
They parted: half a century
Each took the path of pain,—
He lived a bachelor, and she
Was never wooed again.
When autumn, too, was dead,
When every vision splendid
Of youth and hope was fled,
Again these twain came face to face
As in the long ago;
They met within a sunless place
In the season of the snow.
Love comes and love must flee!
Before the summer closes
Love’s rapture and love’s glee!”
O peace! for in the garden there
He bows in raiment gay,
Doffs hat, and with a courtly air
Presents his fond bouquet.
While church-bells softly ring,
The happy, silent heaven
Beholds the selfsame thing:
The gay old boy within the gate,
With ribbons at his knee!—
“When winter comes is love too late?”
O Cupid, look and see!
When youthful lovers kiss;
What mortal sight may capture
A scene so sweet as this?
Beside her now he sits and glows,
While prim she sits, and proud,
Then, spectacles upon his nose,
Reads the week’s news aloud!
True, with no tinge of pain;
Thus, in sweet Sabbath fashion,
They live their loves again.
She sees in him a happy boy,—
Swift, agile, amorous-eyed;
He sees in her his own heart’s joy,—
Youth, hope, love, vivified!
His long Dutch pipe of wood;
Gossiping oft and joking,
As a gay lover should.
And oft, while there in company
They smile for love’s sweet sake,
Her snuff-box black she hands, and he
A grave deep pinch doth take!
In sober Sabbath joy,
Mingling the past and present,
They sit, a maid and boy!
“O, love is like the roses!”—No!
Thou foolish singer, cease!
Love finds his fireside mid the snow,
And smokes the pipe of peace!