Letters Between Lovers II

The Gentleman's Reply:

Of a Swan to a Nightingale

What a tremor in your gentle speech dear lady
That you, so splendid in your poet dreaming,
Think I worthy of your love yet unaltered by its possessing.
Darling maid, thy chestnut colours parade my thought
To be gazed at by thy emerald orbs my own have sought
And wounded by my altered thought of home.
If my wings would offer from tempests a hiding dome
Or my migrant nest sufficient for thy sweet rest.
All common worries to common birds,
but human hearts inflame our human breasts.

The same cry in the soul of Ruth eased by thy song
The same mark of Cyrus to belong in heaven's scheme
That says you are not so far, even when the gossips teem.
O' singer who serenades the stars to light the sky
O' Shepherdess who knew not that she is what makes me fly!
How is my own affection unseen by thy taunting gaze?
Hide thy eyes which prove G-d a creator worth all my praise.
The Song of Songs tells full thy form and captivating powers
And answers then what lengthens-- pulls the strings of the mind
        To stretch all mere moments into hours.