SONG WITHOUT A SOUND 187 



Those cherries fairly do enclose 



Of Orient pearl a double row, 

 Which when her lovely laughter shows, 



They look like rosebuds fill'd with snow : 

 Yet them no peer nor prince can buy, 

 Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. 



Her eyes like angels watch them still ; 



Her brows like bended bows do stand, 

 Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill 



All that attempt with eye or hand 

 Those sacred cherries to come nigh, 

 Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. 



THOMAS CAMPION. 



SONG WITHOUT A SOUND 



(From " With Sa'di in the Garden ") 



THE Bulbul wail'd, " Oh, Rose, all night I sing, 

 And Thou, Beloved ! utterest not one thing." 

 " Dear Bird ! " she answer'd, " scent and blossoming 

 Are music of my Song without a sound." 



The Cypress to the Tulip spake : " What bliss 

 Seest thou in sunshine, dancing still like this ? " 

 " My cup," the Tulip said, " the wind's lips kiss ; 

 Dancing I hear the Song without a sound." 



The gray Owl hooted to the Dove at morn, 



" Why art thou happy on thy jungle-thorn ? " 



" Hearest thou not," she cooed, " o'er Earth's face 



borne 

 This music of the Song without a sound ? " 



