Morning Song.
Awake, my love—the city lies1
All bathed in golden fairy mist ;2
It was transformed to Paradise,3
By magic, when we kissed—4
Yet every moment something dies5
From the enchanted streets and skies.6
Awake ! no lark or thrush is here—7
But noisy sparrows in your square8
Chirp, flout and flutter, peck and peer9
About the branches bare ;10
And careless of the time of year,11
Your shrill canary storms the ear.12
There are no meadows here, nor dower13
Of roses on this young March day ;14
I cannot gather flower on flower15
For you to throw away—16
So wear these violets for an hour,17
Though brought from market, not from bower.18
It’s March, there are no roses sweet,19
It’s London, where no fields are green—20
Yet could these make life more complete21
For me, my rose, my Queen,22
Since you can make the common street23
Turn to a garden, when we meet ?24
And you ? What maid by shepherd e’er25
Was better loved than I love you ?26
Awake—and show the day how rare27
A flower in London grew.28
Of woods and fields and pastures fair29
What do you know—what do I care ?30