Jephthah

64 - JEPHTHAH Never cheeks that dimple over At the perfume of the clover, With the laughing summer seas Of the smile of hearts at ease ; Never bosoms bright and round Shall be garlanded and bound With the chain of myrtle, wreathed By the fingers of the maid Each has chosen for a mate, When the west wind lately breathed Murmurs in the wanton glade Of the day that dawneth late In a maiden’s horoscope, Dawning faith and fire and hope On the spring that only knew Flowers and butterflies and dew, Skies and seas and mountains blue, On the spring that wot not of Fruit and falling leaves and love ; Never dew-dashed foreheads fair Shall salute the idle air; Never feet shall wander deep | Where the fronds of fern, asleep, Kiss her rosy feet that pass On the spangled summer grass, Half awake, and drowse again ; Never more our feet shall stain Purple with the joyous grape, Whence there rose a fairy shape In the fume and must and juice,