Love's Delay

NAY, do not haste your coming, love.
Wait for a little while.

And why?
I would postpone the sweets of your first kiss,
And let you, too, feed on expectancy.
You write you love me. Ay, and I love you !
I love you with a love as delicate
As moon-gold on a tropic sea, or
Webs of gossamer in the morning sun, or
Gleam of dew on early flowers,
Or bloom that makes the moth’s regalia.
I put you in my most enchanting dreams
When night is here, and in the day
Frame thoughts of you in music. Ah, dear heart,
I play that you and nature are in league.
If heaven drops rain, I say, “ My love is sad.”
If birds sing in the morn, I kiss my hand
Westward toward you and cry,
“ Here’s hail unto my own, who suns himself
In my bright love, and sends this dawn
To tell me so ! ”

And every day
I cull my thoughts to send the fairest ones
To you. Ah, be content a little while,
Nor know my baser moods, my selfishness !
Keep all your thoughts of me as they are now,
So fine, and high, and chaste !

Haste not,
Dear love, your coming. Wait awhile ! I dream,
In solitary twilight hours, how sweet,
How tender-sweet and pure your kiss will be, —
Your first kiss, love! Delay — lest it be past!

Elia W. Peattie.