Menu Close


A Madrigal

AH ! leave my soul like forest pool
    In shadow smiling unafraid—
Let not thy laughter stir its cool
    Clear depths, sweet maid,
Let not, I pray, thy sunlike hair
Pierce to the thoughts that slumber there !

My soul is still as summer noon—
    Its inmost shrines are full of sleep ;
But when the stars of dreamland swoon
    ‘Twill wake and weep ;
The dawn of Love that brings thy blue
Bright eyes, will bring a sorrow too !

My soul is silent—trouble not
    Its secret reveries with thy songs.
The rare red tint thy lips have got !
    The whole world longs
To kiss them—therefore speak not, dear ;
My soul must struggle, should it hear.

* * * * *

                                                I see

                        216 A Madrigal

I see thee, and my soul is swung
    In golden trances of delight ;
I hear thee, and my tremulous tongue
    Hurls forth a flight
Of bird-like songs, saluting thee.
Oh, come and dwell and dream with me.

MLA citation:

Custance, Olive. “A Madrigal.” The Yellow Book, vol. 6, July 1895, pp. 215-216. Yellow Book Digital Edition, edited by Dennis Denisoff and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2010-2014. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2020.