English poem
A Madrigal
by Olive Custance (1874–1944)
Ah! leave my soul like forest pool In shadow smiling unafraid— Let not thy laughter stir its cool Clear depths, sweet maid, Let not, I pray, thy sunlike hair Pierce to the thoughts that slumber there!
My soul is still as summer noon— Its inmost shrines are full of sleep; But when the stars of dreamland swoon 'Twill wake and weep; The dawn of Love that brings thy blue Bright eyes, will bring a sorrow too!
My soul is silent—trouble not Its secret reveries with thy songs. The rare red tint thy lips have got! The whole world longs To kiss them—therefore speak not, dear; My soul must struggle, should it hear.