In Cupid’s Court

Love, the Guest

I did not dream that Love would stay,
  I deemed him but a passing guest,
Yet here he lingers many a day.

I said, “Young Love will flee with May,
  And leave forlorn the hearth he blest”;
I did not dream that Love would stay.

My envious neighbor mocks me “Nay,
  Love lies not long in any nest”;
Yet here he lingers many a day.

And though I did his will alway,
  And gave him even of my best;
I did not dream that Love would stay.

I have no skill to bid him stay,
  Of tripping tongue or cunning jest,
Yet here he lingers many a day.

Beneath his ivory feet I lay
  Pale plumage of the ringdove’s breast;
I did not dream that Love would stay.

Will Love be flown? I ofttimes say,
  Home turning for the noonday rest;
Yet here he lingers many a day.

His gold curls gleam, his lips are gay,
  His eyes through tears smile loveliest;
I did not dream that love would stay.

He sometimes sighs when far away
  The low red sun makes fair the west,
Yet here he lingers many a day.

Thrice blest of all men am I! yea,
  Although of all unworthiest;
I did not dream that Love would stay,
Yet here he lingers many a day.

Graham R. Tomson.