Valentine in Form of Ballade
The soft wind from the south land sped,
He set his strength to blow,
O’er forests where Adonis bled
And lily flowers a-row.
He crossed the straits like streams that flow
The ocean dark as wine
To my true love to whisper low
To be your Valentine.
The spring-time raised her drowsy head,
Besprent with drifted snow,
“I’ll send an April Day,” she said,
“To lands of wintry woe.”
He came; wan winter’s overthrow
With showers that sing and shine
Pied daisies round your path to strow,
To be your Valentine.
Where sands of Egypt swart and red
’Neath suns Egyptian glow,
In places of the princely dead
By the Nile’s overflow,
The swallow preened her wings to go,
And for the North did pine,
And fain would brave the frost, her foe,
To be your Valentine.
Envoy.
Spring, Swallow, South Wind, even so
Their various voice combine,
But that they crave on me bestow
To be your Valentine.
Andrew Lang.