Monday, May 5, 2008

I Want Her Love Poem

If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the fields before

The gate that leads to her door;

Over the meadows,

To wait, 'mid the shadows,

The shadows that circle her door,

For the heart of my heart and more.

And there in the clover

Close by her,

Over and over

I'd sigh her:

"Your eyes are as brown

As the Night's, looking down

On waters that sleep

With the moon in their deep" . . .

If I were her lover to sigh her.



If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the fields before

The lane that leads to her door;

I'd wait, 'mid the thickets,

Or there by the pickets,

White pickets that fence in her door,

For the life of my life and more.

I'd lean in the clover—

The crisper

For the dews that are over—

And whisper:

"Your lips are as rare

As the dewberries there,

As ripe and as red,

On the honey-dew fed" . . .

If I were her lover to whisper.



If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the field before

The pathway that leads to her door;

And watch, in the twinkle

Of stars that sprinkle

The paradise over her door,

For the soul of my soul and more.

And there in the clover

I'd reach her;

And over and over

I'd teach her—

A love without sighs,

Of laughterful eyes,

That reckoned each second

The pause of a kiss,

A kiss and . . . that is

If I were her lover to teach her.

Madison Julius Cawein