Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ROSY BOSOM'D HOURS, by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE



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THE ROSY BOSOM'D HOURS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: A florin to the willing guard
Last Line: A drizzling rain set in.
Subject(s): Love


A FLORIN to the willing Guard
Secured, for half the way
(He locked us in, ah, lucky starred),
A curtained, front coupe.
The sparkling sun of August shone;
The wind was in the West;
Your gown and all that you had on
Was what became you best;
And we were in that seldom mood
When soul with soul agrees,
Mingling, like flood with equal flood,
In agitated ease.
Far round, each blade of harvest bare
Its little loaf of bread;
Each furlong of that journey fair
With separate sweetness sped.
The calm of use was coming o'er
The wonder of our wealth,
And now, maybe, 'twas not much more
Than Eden's common health.
We paced the sunny platform, while
The train at Havant changed:
What made the people kindly smile,
Or stare with looks estranged?
Too radilant for a wife you seemed,
Serener than a bride;
Me happiest born of men I deemed.
And showed perchance my pride.

I loved that girl, so gaunt and tall,
Who whispered loud, 'Sweet Thing!'
Scanning your figure, slight yet all
Round as your own gold ring.
At Salisbury you strayed alone
Within the shafted glooms,
Whilst I was by the Verger shown
The brasses and the tombs.
At tea we talked of matters deep,
Of joy that never dies;
We laughed, till love was mixed with sleep
Within your great sweet eyes.
The next day, sweet with luck no less
And sense of sweetness past,
The full tide of our happiness
Rose higher than the last.
At Dawlish, 'mid the pools of brine,
You stepped from rock to rock,
One hand quick tightening upon mine,
One holding up your frock.
On starfish and on weeds alone
You seemed intent to be:
Flashed those great gleams of hope unknown
From you, or from the sea?
Ne'er came before, ah, when again
Shall come two days like these:
Such quick delight within the brain,
Within the heart such peace?
I thought, indeed, by magic chance,
A third from Heaven to win,
But as, at dusk, we reached Penzance,
A drizzling rain set in.





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