I idly cut a parsley stalk,

      And blew therein towards the moon;

      I had not thought what ghosts would walk

      With shivering footsteps to my tune.

      I went, and knelt, and scooped my hand

      As if to drink, into the brook,

      And a faint figure seemed to stand

      Above me, with the bygone look.

      I lipped rough rhymes of chance, not choice,

      I thought not what my words might be;

      There came into my ear a voice

      That turned a tenderer verse for me.

      Lalage’s coming:

      Where is she now, O?

      Turning to bow, O,

      And smile, is she,

      Just at parting,

      Parting, parting,

      As she is starting

      To come to me?

      Where is she now, O,

      Now, and now, O,

      Shadowing a bough, O,

      Of hedge or tree

      As she is rushing,

      Rushing, rushing,

      Gossamers brushing

      To come to me?

      Lalage’s coming;

      Where is she now, O;

      Climbing the brow, O,

      Of hills I see?

      Yes, she is nearing,

      Nearing, nearing,

      Weather unfearing

      To come to me.

      Near is she now, O,

      Now, and now, O;

      Milk the rich cow, O,

      Forward the tea;

      Shake the down bed for her,

      Linen sheets spread for her,

      Drape round the head for her

      Coming to me.

      Lalage’s coming,

      She’s nearer now, O,

      End anyhow, O,

      To-day’s husbandry!

      Would a gilt chair were mine,

      Slippers of vair were mine,

      Brushes for hair were mine

      Of ivory!

      What will she think, O,

      She who’s so comely,

      Viewing how homely

      A sort are we!

      Nothing resplendent,

      No prompt attendant,

      Not one dependent

      Pertaining to me!

      Lalage’s coming;

      Where is she now, O?

      Fain I’d avow, O,

      Full honestly

      Nought here’s enough for her,

      All is too rough for her,

      Even my love for her

      Poor in degree.

      She’s nearer now, O,

      Still nearer now, O,

      She ’tis, I vow, O,

      Passing the lea.

      Rush down to meet her there,

      Call out and greet her there,

      Never a sweeter there

      Crossed to me!

      Lalage’s come; aye,

      Come is she now, O!.

      Does Heaven allow, O,

      A meeting to be?

      Yes, she is here now,

      Here now, here now,

      Nothing to fear now,

      Here’s Lalage!

      When I walked roseless tracks and wide,

      Ere dawned your date for meeting me,

      O why did you not cry Halloo

      Across the stretch between, and say:

      “We move, while years as yet divide,

      On closing lines which – though it be

      You know me not nor I know you —

      Will intersect and join some day!”

         Then well I had borne

         Each scraping thorn;

         But the winters froze,

         And grew no rose;

         No bridge bestrode

         The gap at all;

         No shape you showed,

         And I heard no call!

      So zestfully canst thou sing?

      And all this indignity,

      With God’s consent, on thee!

      Blinded ere yet a-wing

      By the red-hot needle thou,

      I stand and wonder how

      So zestfully thou canst sing!

      Resenting not such wrong,

      Thy grievous pain forgot,

      Eternal dark thy lot,

      Groping thy whole life long;

      After that stab of fire;

      Enjailed in pitiless wire;

      Resenting not such wrong!

      Who hath charity?  This bird.

      Who suffereth long and is kind,

      Is not provoked, though blind

      And alive ensepulchred?

      Who hopeth, endureth all things?

      Who