From London Streets

How fares it with my Love, in her far place?
I hear along the streets, this afternoon,
Thunder of wheels and melancholy tune
Of church bells clashing over crowded ways.
To her of peerless heart and perfect face, —
In whom is April wedded unto June, —
Go now, my song, and breathe some mystic rune,
That she may think of far-off, lovely days.

Oh, for my love's sake, and my soul's deep woe,
Be as a kiss upon dear lips and eyes;
Be warm about her, that her heart may know
The heart of one who is so little wise
That for the dreams and days of long ago
He seeks still with the spirit's diligent eyes.