TO LIDA.
The only one whom, Lida, thou canst love,
Thou claim'st, and rightly claim'st, for only thee;
He, too, is wholly thine; since doomed to rove
Far from thee, in life's turmoils nought I see
Save a thin veil, through which thy form I view,
As though in clouds; with kindly smile and true,
It cheers me, like the stars eterne that gleam
Across the northern lights' far-flick'ring beam.
RECIPROCAL.
My mistress, where sits she?
What is it that charms?
The absent she's rocking,
Held fast in her arms.
In pretty cage prisoned
She holds a bird still;
Yet lets him fly from her,
Whenever he will.
He pecks at her finger,
And pecks at her lips,
And hovers and flutters,
And round her he skips.
Then hasten thou homeward,
In fashion to be;
If thou hast the maiden,
She also hath thee.
