Kismet

Love came to her unsought,
Love served her many ways,
And patiently Love followed her
Throughout the nights and days.

Love spent his life for her
And hid his tears and sighs;
He bartered all his soul for her,
With tender pleading eyes.

Her scarlet mouth that smiled,
Mocked lightly at his woe,
And while she would not bid him stay
She did not bid him go.

But hope within him failed
Until he pled no more -
And cold and still he turned his face
Away from her heart's door.

*    *    *    *    *

Long were the days she watched
For one who never came; -
Through sleepless nights her white lips bore
The burden of a name.

Virna Sheard

Virna Sheard was a Canadian poet and novelist associated with the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She gained recognition for her poetry collections such as 'The Miracle, and Other Poems' and 'A Sea of Sunset'. Her work often explored themes of love, spirituality, and the natural world. Apart from poetry, she also wrote several novels that contributed significantly to Canadian literature of her time.

Virna Sheard

Lilacs

Virna Sheard, Simple Poetry

Christmas

Virna Sheard, Simple Poetry

The Lonely Road

Virna Sheard, Simple Poetry

A Southern Lullaby

Virna Sheard, Simple Poetry

English

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The Knight-Errant

Keen in his blood ran the old mad desire
To right the world's wrongs and champion truth;
Deep in his eyes shone a heaven-lit fire,
And royal and radiant day-dreams of youth!

Gracious was he to both beggar and stranger,
And for a rose tossed from fair finger-tips
He would have ridden hard-pressed through all danger,
The rose on his heart and a song on his lips!

All the king's foes he counted his foemen;
His not to say that a cause could be lost;
Spirits like his faced the enemies' bowmen
On long vanished fields - nor counted the cost.

Wide was his out-look and far was his vision;
Soul-fretting trifles he sent down the wind;
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A Song Of Love

Love reckons not by time - its May days of delight
Are swifter than the falling stars that pass beyond our sight.

Love reckons not by time - its moments of despair
Are years that march like prisoners, who drag the chains they wear.

Love counts not by the sun - it hath no night or day -
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Love hath no measurements of height, or depth, or space,
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The Knight Of Toggenburg. A Ballad.

"I Can love thee well, believe me,
As a sister true;
Other love, Sir Knight, would grieve me,
Sore my heart would rue.
Calmly would I see thee going,
Calmly, too, appear;
For those tears in silence flowing
Find no answer here."

Thus she speaks, he hears her sadly,
How his heartstrings bleed!
In his arms he clasps her madly,
Then he mounts his steed.
From the Switzer land collects he
All his warriors brave;
Cross on breast, their course directs he
To the Holy Grave.

In triumphant march advancing,
Onward moves the host,
While their morion plumes are dancing
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Her Last Letter

Sitting alone by the window,
    Watching the moonlit street,
Bending my head to listen
    To the well-known sound of your feet,
I have been wondering, darling,
    How I can bear the pain,
When I watch, with sighs and tear-wet eyes,
    And wait for your coming in vain.

For I know that a day approaches
    When your heart will tire of me;
When by door and gate I may watch and wait
    For a form I shall not see;
When the love that is now my heaven,
    The kisses that make my life,
You will bestow on another,
    And that other will be - your wife.

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Young Love

I

I cannot heed the words they say,
The lights grow far away and dim,
Amid the laughing men and maids
My eyes unbidden seek for him.

I hope that when he smiles at me
He does not guess my joy and pain,
For if he did, he is too kind
To ever look my way again.

II

I have a secret in my heart
No ears have ever heard,
And still it sings there day by day
Most like a caged bird.

And when it beats against the bars,
I do not set it free,
For I am happier to know
It only sings for me.

III

I wrote his name along the beach,
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A Love Song

Oh haste, my Sweet! Impatient now I wait,
The crescent moon swings low, it groweth late,
A night bird sings, of Life, and Love, and Fate!

Oh haste, my Sweet! Youth and its gladness goes,
Joy hath one summer time, like to the rose,
Love only lives through all the winter snows.

Then haste, my Sweet! These hours are all our own,
And see! A rose leaf on the night breeze blown!
For thee I wait - for thee I wait alone!

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