^^ /^^\ ^^..^^ ^k^Sf/^^o v./ /^^\ ^^..♦^ .^; ;. ".^#%v^,- /\ l^'° ^^^^-^^ ^ft^*' /\ '-W*' **'"' t'V'' "^v^^V^ %;^^^V* "*V*^^V* \'*^ %'*^^'''a '*'<.'''-...•*&'■ '*'o,'^^^'\'V *<,'*-?.T'' &*■ • ^c^ ^ '^ \> .>^ ^ X^"'t>0^ A ^ - oves K- ^^^ "^^ -« ^-. ^ ^ A^ /^•t UDVES BOSARY (!Z* Qar/ancCof1^e.rse.s yrom t/)Q Q air den X MadisorHawey The Reilly e Bmtton Co. Chicago cxA5^ Copyright, 191 2 by The Reilly & Britton Co. I The publishers extend a grateful acknowledgment to The Bobbs-Merrill Company of Indianapolis for special permission to use in this yoRune the following poems by James Whitcomb Riley: Hzr\ Beautiful Eyes, He and I, and Her Face and Brow, from "Love Lyrics," copyright 1898; A Song, from "Afterwhiles," copyright 1887; and Dear Hands, from "Pipes o' Pan at Zelvcsbury," copyright 1888. They thank the Houghton Mifflin Company for permission to use Thomas Bailey Aldrich's poem, Forever ai^d a Dav, and Mitchell Kennerley for the use of A Young Man's Song from the "The Green Helmet," by W. B. Yeats ; and add a general acknowledgment to many other sources, not always possible to identify, from which this collection has been compiled. £CI.A31G702 %0 I ¥ OVE — roses — the magic month of June — the glamour of the soft white moonlight under the whispering trees, "with the beating of their own hearts the only sound they hear"; when the very forest is enchanted — when romance is all there is in the world — that is the spirit of this book of love lyrics. If you, kind sir, have long forgotten those days; if a cynic's smile is on your lips as you read this page — go no farther in the book — it is not for you. "Love's Rosary" is a shining necklace of happy hours, or a garden of drifting rose petals, for those other thousands — those uncounted millions, even — who ask nothing better than to find among the throbbing measures of the greatest poets the sympathetic imagery of their own happy state. To such as these — "to many a rose-lipped maiden, to many a lightfooted lad"— is the real dedication of "Love's Rosary." May they discover in its rose-bordered pages the blithe spirit of gay chivalry, or the tender thought of the absent beloved, that will be an inspiration to the lagging, a consolation to the downcast, or a hymn of victory when all's right with the world. OVGS Cp-sar^ E.E pearls that form a rosary. So lie in shining rows for me, Strung on a golden thread of Time, The precious hours I know with thee. And, filled with love and praise of thee. As ojie who tells his rosary, I count upon the beads of Time The henisons thou hringest me. Oh! may such hours still dawn J or me. So rich in love, so filled with thee, And glisten on the robe of Time, A never-ending rosary. — Oweji Innsley iw»)r lLHiC< ^nfezzf^ Abbott, Mary Winchester Rose's Message, The Aldrich, Thomas Bailey Forever and a Day . Anonymous Absence Annie Laurie . Because You Love Me Doubt Good Night . I Am Thy Harp I Cannot Help Loving Thee Love ..... Love Me Little, Love Me Long . Love Took Me Softly by the Hand Not Bhnd .... Arnold, Edwin Destiny .... Lovers. .... Baker, George Comstock To— Bayley, Thomas Haynes Won't You? .... Beddoes, Thomas Lovell How Many Times . Blunt, Wilfrid Scawen Love Me a Little . On His Fortune in Loving Her Religion of Love, The Triumph of Love, The Wilt Thou Take Me for Thy Slave? Bourdillon, Francis W. Gathered Roses Light ..... 179 118 149 58 209 32 174 51 84 157 146 28 181 166 173 201 82 31 72 55 187 63 170 154 182 7^^ 3\\x^?s#^^ ¥ f/MlCi ^izfezzr^ Ik Browning, Elizabeth Barrett Love Me, Sweet Love Strikes One Hour Sonnets from the Portuguese Browning, Robert Last Ride Together, The . One Way of Love Song from "A Blot on the 'Scutcheon" Burns, Robert Banks of Doon, The Bonny Leshe Jean .... My Jean! My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing. O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast Red, Red Rose, A . Wilt Thou Be My Dearie? . Byron, Lord Maid of Athens Man's Love She Walks in Beauty To Ellen Campbell, Thomas First Kiss, The Song, A . . . Campion, Thomas Love Me or Not My Life's Dehght Carew, Thomas Ask Me No More To Ceha Cary, Alice Love .... Young Love . ^%SS^ . 85 • 137 23, 78, 92, 163 37 103 176 70 121 42 159 98 193 27 33 126 149 142 171 190 117 III 177 26 125 145 128 ^ W^ Chauvenet, W. M. In My Beloved's Eyes Clarke, James Freeman When Shall We Meet Again? Coleridge, Hartley She Is Not Fair Coleridge, Samuel Taylor Answer to a Child's Question Exchange, The Love ..... Collins, Mortimer Conceit, A . , . . Cowley, Abraham Pain of Love, The Davenant, Sir William Lark Now Leaves His Wat'ry Nest, The. Daniel, Samuel Love Is a Sickness Dickens, Charles Song ..... DoBSON, Austin Rose ..... Song of the Four Seasons, A Wanderer, The Dowland, John Old English Love Song Eliot, George Sweethearts Always . 39 212 207 183 189 106 162 179 120 114 112 . 155 50 127 79 24 Fitzgerald, Edward Ah! Love Book of Verses, A FOLLANSBEE, MiTCHELL D. Rose At It Again Ford, John Since First I Saw Your Face Ford, Thomas There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind Gilder, Richard Watson Sweetheart Granville, George Song .... Heine, Heinrich Love- Yearning Love's Grammar Love's Resume' Maiden with the Lips Like Rosebuds May . Stowaway, The So Pure and Fair Summer and Winter Thine Eyes Thou Lovest Me Not Henley, William Ernest In the Year That's Come and Gone Love Notes .... Herrick, Robert Gather Ye Rosebuds How Roses Came Red To Anthea .... 204 144 155 180 131 116 59 35 57 107 119 61 89 69 199 51 156 124 199 167 178 30 (gnfezztr^ IL , Herrick, Robert — Continued To Dianeme . To Electra Upon a Virgin Kissing a Rose Writing Heywood, Thomas Song .... HoLDEN, John Jarvis I Love My Love with A Kiss Holmes, Edmund Gore Alexander By Love Must Love Be Mastered I May Not Love Thee Nature Hath Crowned Thee Hood, Thomas Ruth .... Serenade Hugo, Victor Winge'd Songs Hunt, Leigh Love Lesson, A Innsley, Owen Love's Rosary JoNSON, Ben Love .... To Ceha Jones, Robert If You Love Me Still KiNGSLEY, Charles Twin Stars When All the World Is Young Landor, Walter Savage Defiance Rubies 169 156 196 136 83 140 99 139 205 41 151 204 189 9 136 49 186 21 1 197 121 162 /^ \M.^ ^WS^?^ ^Jt^Dl'kiiP^ i^ Learned, Walter Explanation, An Locker, Frederick She Laughed Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth From Hiawatha Spanish Serenade Lovelace, Richard To Althea from Prison To Lucasta .... Lowell, James Russell Song ..... Telepatliy .... Love ..... Marlowe, Christopher Passionate Shepherd 1\) 1 lis Love, The Massey, Gerald Love in Idleness McCarthy, Justin Huntley If I Were King Meredith, Owen When Stars Are in the Quiet Skies Michael Angelo Might of One Fair Faee, The Moore, Thomas At the Mid Hour of Night . Dost Thou Remember? I Love But Thee Love .... Love Thee ? . Love Thee, Dearest ? Song .... Song .... Time I've Lost in Wooing, The When First We Lo\ed 7^ ^ V ,^M/ tW^^ JOWi mmtSB Morris, George Pope When Other Friends Nairne, Lady Land o' the Leal, The Norton, Caroline Sheridan I Do Not Love Thee Pailleron, Edouard 'Twas April Patmore, Coventry Night Thoughts PoE, Edgar Allan To Helen Procter, Adelaide Anne Chain, A King and Slave Warning, A Woman's Answer, A . Raleigh, Sir Walter Silent Lover, The Ramsay, Allan An Thou Were My Ain Thing Riley, James Whitcomb Dear Hands . He and I Her Beautiful Eyes Her Face and Brow Song, A Rogers, Robert Cameron The Rosary 122 194 29 104 166 206 138 134 178 36 129 46 158 185 34 215 (§22 mm RossETTi, Christina Birthday, A . First Meeting, The . Somewhere or Other . Sonnet RossETTi, Dante Gabriel Love-Letter, The RUECKERT, FrIEDRICH Why Ask of Others? Scott, Lady John When Thou Art Near Me . Scott, Sir Walter Love Wakes and Weeps Sedgwick, Jane M. Hinc Illae Lacrimae . Kiss Within the Cup, A Love-Letter, The True Lover, The Sedley, Sir Charles Silent Love Sedley, Philip Philhs .... Shakespeare, William Hark, Hark, the Lark It Was a Lover and His Lass Marriage of True Minds, The O Mistress Mine That Thou Hast Her Unchangeable, The . Who is Sylvia? Shelley, Percy Bysshe Good Night . Lines to an Indian Air Love's Philosophy •^ ^Mj^ Shelley, Percy Bysshe — Continued One Word Too Often Profaned To — To Emelia Viviani Sheridan, Richard Brinsley Song Sidney, Sir Philip Ditty, A . . . . Spenser, Edmund Love is Life's End . . • Suckling, Sir John Song ..... Why So Pale, Fond Lover? Swain, Charles Heart for Every One, A I Waited Till the Twilight . Swinburne, Algernon Charles Match, A . . . . Sylvester, Joshua Love's Omnipresence. Taylor, Bayard Proposal .... Tennyson, Alfred Ask Me No More Day-Dream, The Go Not, Happy Day In the Spring . Maud . My Bride O Swallow, Swallow Queen Rose Song . • • • • • • • • • • 1 08 182 153 123 191 144 87 103 184 210 160 91 165 95 38 52 186 45 150 68 115 195 Tennyson, Alfred — Continued Sonnet Three Words To Love One Maiden Thackeray, William Makepeace At the Church Gate . Thomson, James O Mellow Moonlight Verlaine, Paul The Lover's Hour Villon, Francois Snows of Yesterday, The Waller, Edmund Go, Lovely Rose On a Girdle . Weatherby, Frederic E Darby and Joan Wheedon, James June White, Henry Kirke To Love Wilkye, John Madrigal Wither, George Brave Lover, The Wordsworth, William Complaint, A . Lines .... Lost Love, The She Was a Phantom of Dehght Yeats, W. B. Young Man's Song, The i6i 213 65 54 202 80 • 131 . 116 60 37 138 160 75 . 66 • 133 107 64 . 198 '^^ i Sonnet from the Portuguese How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace, I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candlehght. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise; I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith; I love thee with a love I seem to lose With my lost saints ^ — I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my hfe! — and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. — Mrs. Browning fx Sweethearts Always Two lovers by a moss-grown spring, They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. O budding time! O love's best prime! Two wedded from the portal stept; The bells made happy caroIHngs, The air was soft as fanning wings. While petals on the pathway slept. O pure-eyed bride! O tender pride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent; Two hands above the head were locked; These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power! 24 SK^0<>0^>0 nXX^<^05^5^k#^5^ WAS April; 'twas Sunday; the day was fair, — Yes! sunny and fair. And how happy was I ! You wore the white dress you loved to wear; And two httle flowers were hid in your hair — Yes! in your hair, — • On that day, — gone by! We sat on the moss: it was shady and dry, — >y. Yes! shady and dry; And we sat in the shadow\ We looked at the leaves, we looked at the sky, We looked at the brook which bubbled near by, Yes, bubbled near by. Through the quiet meadow. rW/\jyl^ A bird sang on the swinging vine, — ^^^Iv.^S Yes! on the vine,— And then — sang not; I took your httle w hite hand in mine; 'Twas April; 'twas Sunday; 'twas warm sunshine, — Yes! warm sunshine: Have you forgot? 29 —Pailleron :^/5^nV^ XX X >< x>*06cx><>0<^ N. ^>^<^iv '^K B To Anthea ID me to live, and I will liwe Thy Protestant to be ; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free. As in the whole world thou canst find; That heart I'll give to thee. Bid that heart stay, and it will stay. To honour thy decree; Or bid it languish quite away, And't shall do so for thee. Bid me to weep, and I will weep. While I have eyes to see. And having none, yet I will keep A heart to weep for thee. Bid me despair, and I'll despair Under that cypress tree; Or bid me die, and I w^ill dare E'en death, to die for thee. 30 i > ■0 5^ v^. Iws / ^1 !> ?^ VVVVVVVvM/(> (X^^«^-'>ggg^^^Yrm.^^m^m Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me, And hast command of every part. To live and die for thee. ^Herrick H Xfe > How Many Times OW many times do I love thee, dear? Tell me how many thoughts there be In the atmosphere Of a new-fall'n year. Whose white and sable hours appear The latest flake of Eternity; So many times do I love thee, dear. How many times do I love, again? Tell me how many beads there are In a silver chain Of the evening rain, Unraveled from the tumbling main. And threading the eye of a yellow star; So many times do I love again. — Beddoes 31 Oo< ^>l>0C>OOO<><> > Mm^.Jf^^i^M^ Doubt Wh /^m ^"^'^\2 ^. \> ^ WHEN a pair of red lips are upturned to your own, With no one to gossip about it, Do you pray for endurance to let them alone? Well, maybe you do — but I doubt it. When a sly Httle hand you're permitted to seize. With a velvety softness about it, Do you think you can drop it with never a squeeze? Well, maybe you do — but I doubt it. When a tapering waist is in reach of your arm, With a wonderful plumpness about it. Do you argue the point 'twixt the good and the the harm? Well, maybe you do— but I doubt it. And if by these tricks you should capture a heart, With a womanly softness about it, Will you guard it and keep it, and act the good part? Well, maybe you will — but I doubt it 32 Wilt Thou Be My Dearie? WILT thou be my dearie? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, wilt thou let me cheer thee? By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee! 1 swear and vow that only thou Shalt ever be my dearie — Only thou, I swear and vow, Shalt ever be my dearie. Lassie, say thou lo'es me; Or if thou wilt na be my ain, Say na thou'lt refuse me; If it winna, canna be. Thou for thine may choose me; Let me, lassie, quickly die, ^ Trusting that thou lo'es me^ Lassie, let me quickly die, Trusting that thou lo'es me. ^Burns ■•^ \ ?c hr tl /" -^^^m 0^ Jcv§^P^^^wyv<>Q< X / A Song THERE is ever a song somewhere, my dear; There is ever a something sings alway: There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear, And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray. The sunshine showers across the grain. And the bhiebird trills in the orchard tree; And in and out, when the eaves drip rain, The swallows are twittering ceaselessly. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. Be the skies above or dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hear — • There is ever a song somewhere, my dear- There is ever a song somewhere! There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. In the midnight black, or the mid-day blue: The robin pipes when the sun is here. And the cricket chirrups the whole night through. 34 V k': The buds may blow, and the fruit may grow, And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sere; But whether the sun, or the rain, or the snow, There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. Be the skies above or dark or fair. There is ever a song that our hearts may hear — There is ever a song somewhere, my dear — There is ever a song somewhere Love-Yearning — Riley E^ thy soft cheek against my cheek. Our tears in one stream outgushing! And to my heart press close thy heart Their ilamcs in one flame outrushing! And into that mighty llame when Hows The tide of our tear-drops burning, And when in my arms I have ch\sped thee close — I'll die of pure love-yearning! — Heine 35 i? ^ A An Thou Were My A in Thing K N thou were my ain thing, I would love thee, I would love thee; An thou were my ain thing. How dearly I would love thee. Sae lang's I had use of light I'd on thy beauties feast my sight, Sae lang's I had the use of hght I'd tell how much I loved thee. How fair and ruddy is my Jean, She moves a goddess o'er the green. Were I a king thou should be queen — None but myself aboon thee. Time's on the wing, and will not stay, In shining youth let's make our hay — Since love admits of no delay, O let na scorn undo thee. While love does at his altar stand, Hae, here's my heart, gie me thy hand. And with ilk smile thou shalt command The will of him who loves thee. 36 — Ramsay ^i W^^^ ^m^^. y^w*9^/^ N! 5$^ — n ^MifViiifnAi f\ rii if: ^ _ ^ ini uTi - > ' »^^V^ * The Last Ride Together Y mistress bent that brow of hers; Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs When pity would be softening through, Fixed me a breathing-while or two With life or death in the balance; right! The blood replenished me again; My last thought was at least not vain: I and my mistress, side by side Shall be together, breathe and ride. So, one day more am I deified. Who knows but the world may end to-night? — Browning A June STRAYING zephyr and a waveless sea, A skylark singing, and a honeybee Home-going happily. A lover wooing and a radiant moon, A maiden listening, and the world in tune To love: Ah, wondrous June! 37 — Wheedon ^>^^^ m r^. . , ND on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old; Across the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, And deep into the dying day The happy princess followed him. I'd sleep another hundred years, O love, for such another kiss!" "Oh! wake forever, love," she hears, "O love! 'twas such as this and this.'* And o'er them many a sliding star, And many a merry wind was borne. And, streamed through many a golden bar, The twihght melted into morn. "O eyes long laid in happy sleep!" "O happy sleep, that lightly fled!" "O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!" "O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!" 38 x><>6c ICKXXX And o'er them many a flowing range Of vapour buoyed the crescent bark, And, rapt through many a rosy change. The twihght died into the dark. "A hundred Summers! can it be? And whither goest thou, tell me where?" "O seek my father's court with me, For there are greater wonders there!" And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim. Beyond the night, across the day, Through all the world she followed him. — Temiyson fyxxx I In My Beloved s Eyes LOOKED into the midnight deep. And saw the steadfast stars. True sentinels that never sleep, Beyond earth's prison bars. I looked in my Beloved's eyes, And saw her radiant soul Still steadfast in the Heav'niy skies Of love's remotest goaL 39 — Chauvenet 6^nNN?^' ^>» 4p^ X&^^ ^^^me^w^mm^^ ^' ^ '"^^mi K x^d6<5< At the Mid Hour of Night A T the mid hour ot night, when stars are weeping, I lly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky! Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on the ear; And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls, I think, O my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the'^ Kingdom of Souls Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear. .< k SHE stood breast-high amid the corn, Clasped by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won. On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripen'd; — such a bkish In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes the tresses fell. Which were blackest none could tell, But long Lashes veiled a hght That had else been all too bright. And her hat, with shady brim, Made her tressy forehead dim;— Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising God with sweetest looks. Sure, I said, Heav'n did not mean, Where I reap thou should'st but glean; Lay thy sheaf adown and come. Share my harvest and my home. 41 —Hood m W^ ^^^& ><><>o<2^ wOs^^ Jean k OF a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers row. And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 1 hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings But mmds me o' my Jean. 42 X>0<> O blaw ye westlin' winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees; Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale Bring hame the laden bees; And bring the lassie back to me That's aye sae neat and clean; Ae smile o' her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean. What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae pass'd atween us twa ! How fond to meet, how wae to part That night she gaed awa ! The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen. That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean! — Burns XX>; xxy m^^w>^^^ 2>> The Marriage of True Minds E' me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love, Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. — Shakespeare -i% « IRDS in the high Hall-garden, When twiHght was falhng, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, They Vv^ere crying and caHing. Where was Maud? In our wood; And I, who else, was with her. Gathering woodland hhes, Myriads blow together. Birds in our wood sang, Ringing thro' the valleys, Maud is here, here, here In among the lilies. I kiss'd her slender hand. She took the kiss sedately; Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately. I to cry out on pride Who have won her favour! O Maud were sure of Heaven If lowliness could save her. 45 Tennyson y^ J He and I UST drifting on together — He and I — As through the bahiiy weather Of July Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded Each in each — by zephyrs wedded — Touring upward, giddy-headed, For the sky. And, veering up and onward, Do we seem Forever drifting dawnward In a dream. Where we meet song-birds that know us. And the winds their kisses blow us. While the years flow far below us Like a stream. And we are happy — very- He and I — 'jSjrlM/^ Aye, even glad and merry Though on high 46 / X X i .^- X O ^ / ^1 i^M K NX NX XX \X NX N x£ The Heavens are sometimes shrouded By the midnight storm, and clouded Till the pallid moon is crowded From the sky. My spirit ne'er expresses Any choice But to clothe him with caresses And rejoice; And as he laughs, it is in Such a tone the moonbeams ghsten And the stars come out to listen To his voice. And so, whate'er the weather, He and I, — With our Kves hnked thus together. Float and fly As two thistle-tufts imbedded Each in each — by zephyrs wedded^ Touring upward, giddy-headed. For the sky. 47 W^ydd^-'- AXXX>= A% j ^^^^ /^ I Love But Thee M X IF, after all, you still will doubt and fear nie, And think this heart to other loves will stray. It I must swear, then, lovely doubter, hear me; By every dream I have when thou'rt away, By every throb I feel when thou art near me, I love but thee — I love but thee! jC ^ By those dark eyes, where Kght is ever playing, W here Love in depth of shadow holds his throne. And by those hps, which give whate'er thou'rt saying. Or grave or gay, a music of its own, A music far beyond all minstrel's pLaying, I love but thee — I \o\q but thee! By that fair brow, where Innocence reposes. As pure as moonlight sleeping upon snow. And by that cheek, whose fleeting blush dis- closes A hue too bright to bless this world below, And only fit to dwell on Eden's roses, I love but thee — I love but thee! J^ 48 — Moore ^ ^ 7s ^-4 i/ ^^ RINK to me only with thine eyes And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss within the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's neetar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not wither'd be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear. Not of itself but thee. — Jonson XXX A Song of the Four Seasons WHEN Spring comes laughing, by vale and hill, By wind-flower walking and daf- fodil- Sing stars of morning, sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, and my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, fufl-Ieaved and strong. And gay birds gossip, the orchard long, — Sing hid, sweet honey, that no bee sips, Sing red, red roses, and my Love's lips. When Autumn scatters the leaves again, ^^ And piled sheaves bury the broad-wheeled O wain, — Sing flutes of harvest, where men rejoice; Sing rounds of reapers, and my Love's voice. But when comes Winter, wath hail and storm, And red iire roaring, and ingle warm, — Sing first sad going of friends that part; Then sing glad meeting, and my Love's heart. Thine Eyes BRIGHT sapphires are those eyes of thine The lovehest, the sweetest. Oh, three times happy is the man Whom with their love thou greetest. Thy heart it is a diamond, With noblest kistre gleaming. Oh, three times happy is the man For whom with love 'tis beaming. And rubies are those Hps of thine, Rarer the world saw never. Oh, three times happy is the man Blest with their love for ever. I Am Thy Harp I AM thy harp, that all unknown thou sweepest. Strung to a thousand melodies of thee. And all too hghtly canst thou draw my fullest And deepest music for thy minstrelsy. < G Go Not, Happy Day O not, happy day, From the shining fields. Go not, happy day. Till the maiden yields. r^ Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. When the happy Yes Falters from her hps, Pass and bhish the news Over glowing ships; Over blowing seas. Over seas at rest. Pass the happy news, Bhish it thro' the West; Till the red man dance, By his red cedar tree. And the red man's babe Leap, beyond the sea. K /" Blush from West to East, Blush from East to West, Till the West is East, Bhish it thro' the West. Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks. And a rose her mouth. Love ]k"- Tennyson TO keep one sacred flame Through hfe unchilled, unmoved. To love in wintry age, the same As first in youth we loved, To feel that we adore Even to such fond excess That though the heart would break with more. It could not live with less. — Moore ^. ^^^"l^x A K O Mellow Moonlight MELLOW moonlight warm, Weave round my Love a charm; O countless, starry eyes Watch from the holy skies; O ever-solemn night. Shield her within thy might: Watch her, my little one! Shield her, ray darhng! How my heart shrinks with fear. Nightly to leave thee, dear; Lovely and pure, within Vast glooms of woe and sin; Our wealth of love and bliss Too Heavenly-perfect is: Good night, my little one! God keep thee, darling! Th omson .■^w>m% K I DID not choose thee, dearest. It was Love That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind As a rude shepherd's who to some lone grove His offerings brings, and cares not at what shrine He bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine; The rest was Love's. He took me by the hand, And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine, And spoke the words I might not understand. I was unwise in all but the dear chance Which was my fortune, and the blind desire Which led my foolish steps to love's abode. And youth's subhme unreasoned prescience Which raised an altar and inscribed in fire Its dedication "to the unknown god." —Blunt 0-XX>< WW 55 TO^^>^'"^ Spanish Serenade STARS of the Summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps ! Moon of the Summer night! Far down yon Western steeps, Sink, sink in silver light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps ! Wind of the Summer night! Where yonder woodbine creeps, Fold, fold thy pinions hght! She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps ! P < />/ .v<^ Dreams of the Summer night! Tell her, her lover keeps Watch! while in shimbers light She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps ! ^Longfellow Loves Grammar THE stars far off in Heaven Stand motionless up there, Thousands of years they gaze on Each other in love's despair. They speak a wondrous language That is most rich and grand; Yet none of our learned professors That language can understand. But I so well have lea'-nt it, Each word in my heart hves on; For I have used as my grammar The face of my dearest One. \ZS/\: Mi y A/1/1 /c^ IaiukIc AXWELTON braes arc honnlo \\ horo early ta's the clew, Aiul it's there that Annie Laurie Gie\l nie her |)roniise true, — Glo'd me her promise true, \\ hieh ne'er forgot \\\\\ be. And tor bonnie Annie Laurie Lcl hiy me doune and dee. Her brow is like the snawdrift; Her throat is like the swan; Ller taee it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on, — • Ihat e'er the sun shone on. And dark blue is her ee; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee. Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa' o' her fair\- teet; ixixx) mi >99< XXX KXJK) ^p4aS>(K| ^^^ ^^ powerful fancy lies. ♦ _ — Granville k v-^^xm A-^ Darby and Joan DARBY dear, we are old and gray, Fifty years since our wedding day, Shadow and sun for every one As the years roll on; Darby dear, when the world went wry, Hard and sorrowful then was I — Ah! lad, how you cheered me then. Things will be better, sweet wife, again! Always the same, Darby, my own. Always the same to your old wife Joan. Darby dear, but my heart was wild When we buried our baby child. Until you whispered, "Heaven knows best!" And my heart found rest; Darby dear, 'twas your loving hand Showed the way to the better land — Ah! lad, as you kissed each tear, Life grew better and Heaven more near. Always the same, Darby, my own, Always the same to your old wife Joan. x^ Y V '■'jKA Hand in hand when our hfe was May, Hand in hand when our hair is gray, Shadow and sun for every one. As the years roll on; Hand in hand when the long night tide Gently eovers us side by side — Ah! lad, though we know not when, Love will be with us forever then; Always the same, Darby, my own. Always the same to your old wife Joan. — Weatherhy May N the sweet marvelous month of May, When all the buds were springing. There in my heart among them New-born I found Love singing. In the sweet marvelous month of May, When all the birds were singing, I told her all the longings That my fond heart were wringing. — Heine 6i ^ f^ <' \1 7% T' That Thou Hast Her ^HAT thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in Io\-e that touches me more nearly. Loving otTenders, thus will I excuse ye: Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her; And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. If I love thee, my loss is my love's gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss ; Both and each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross: But here's the joy: my friend and I are one; Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone. — Shakespeare K^ mf^^ The Triumph of Love Love, dear Love. In vain I scoff. In vain ply my barren wit, and jest at thee. Thou heedest not, or dost forgive the pain. And in thy own good time and thy own way, Waiting my silence, thou dost vanquish me. Thou comest at thy will in sun or rain, And at the hour appointed, a Spring day, An Autumn night: and lo, I serve again. Forgive me, touch me, chide me. What to thee, God that thou art, are these vain shifts of mine? Let me but know thee. Thou alone art wise. I ask not to be wise or great or free jp_l Or aught but at thy knees and wholly thine, -^ >^^^ \, Thus, and to feel thy hand upon mine ^m§^ mm. 9<'99S xX^ She Was a Phantom of Delight SHE was a phantom of delight, When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twihght fair; Like Twihght's too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too. Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin-liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles. Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. W ^^»^>^ CKXXl And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine, A being breathing thoughtful breath A traveler between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will. Endurance, foresight, strength and skill; A perfect woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit still, and bright, With something of an angel-hght. — Wordsworth To Love One Maiden 'O love one maiden only, cleave to her. And worship her by years of noble deeds. Until they won her; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under Heaven Than is the maiden passion for a maid Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and amiable words And courthness, and the desire of fame. And love of truth, and all that makes a man. — Tennyson 65 ^\ \ A Lorn 1^1 a I nt r-r^] ^HERE is a change, — and I am poor; \ our love hath been, nor long ago, A fountain at my fond licart's door, Whose only business was to How; And flow it did, not taking heed Of its own bounty, or my need. \\ hat happ3^ moments did I count! Blest was I then all bhss above! Now, for that consecrated fount Of murmuring, sparkling, living love, What have I? Shall I dare to tell? A comfortless and hidden well, A well of love; it may be deep, — I trust it is, — and never dry. What matter? If the waters sleep In silence and obscurity. Such change, and at the very door Of my fond heart, hath made me poor. — Wordsworth 't8S8^x> Swallow, Swallow SW^ALLOW, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves. And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. O O tell her. Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North. O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill. And cheep and twitter twenty million loves. O were I thou that she might take me in, And lay me on her bosom, and her heart Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love. Delaying as the tender ash delays To clothe herself, when all the woods are green? J 68 Bf^^^l^.x,>8r^«8^^^ ^^ «' J O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown : Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, But in the North long since my nest is made. O tell her, brief is hfe but love is long. And brief the sun of Summer in the North, And brief the moon of beauty in the South. O Swallow, flying from the golden woods. Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee. — Tennyson So Pure and Fair SWEET as a flower thou seemest. So pure and fair thou art, I gaze on thee, and sadness Steals gently into my heart. I long to lay on thy forehead My hand, as I feel 'tw^ere meet, Praying that God will preserve thee As pure and fair and sweet. tj • 69 . j-V/N^X/^ The Banks of Doon 1 H( E banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; [ow can ye chant, ye httle birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care! Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird. That wantons through the flowering thorn. Thou 'mindst me o' departed joys. Departed — never to return! Aft ha'e I roved by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its hive. And fondly sae did I o' mine. (XXX (XXX 666i AvKA/ 8fe ^ XvlB^ Wi' Hghtsome heart I pu'd a rose, ^^>^j^ Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me ^'^v — Burns x>0(>vVV^4^/V? x^O > s 1 The Brave Lover HALL I, wasting in despair, Die, because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May! If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me (this beUeve! I will die, ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me. What care I for whom she be? >92SL The Passionate Shepherd To His Love COME IWc with nic and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. There will we sit upon the rocks And see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow river, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. There will I make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the flnest w^ool. Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold. With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love. 76 Thy silver dishes for thy meat As precious as the gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy dehght each May-morning; If these dehghts thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love. — Marlowe H The True Lover E who looks and falls in love. If a beauteous face he see. Doth himself no lover prove By his longing; but if he Should a plainer maid admire His is love, and his is fire. All who have discerning eyes In a lovely lass delight; But who, when the arrow flies. Pining for a girl less bright, Knows the burning heart's desire. His is love, and his is fire. Sonnet from the Portuguese G XXX) O from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Never- more Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual hfe, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor Hft my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore, — Thy touch upon the pahii. The widest land Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double. What I do And what I dream include thee, as the w^ine Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue God for myself. He hears that name of thine, And sees within my eyes the tears of two. — Mrs. Browning mi w^^ ^ f ^^. Old English Love Song EAR, if you change, I'll never choose |^ again; Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love; Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain; Wise, if too weak, more wits I'll never prove. Dear, sweet, fair,wise,— change, shrink, nor be not weak; And, on my faith, my faith shall never break. Earth with her flowers shall sooner Heaven adorn; Heaven her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move, ^\f/ Fire heat shall lose, and frosts of llame be born; 1 |Xjy Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove: Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view, \^ Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you. — Dowland The Snows of Yesterday I WONDER in what Isle of Bliss Apollo's music fills the air; In what green valley Artemis For young Endymion spreads the snare Where Venus lingers debonair: The Wind has blown them all away — And Pan lies piping in his lair — Where are the Gods of Yesterday? Say where the great Semiramis Sleeps in a rose-red tomb; and where The precious dust of Caesar is, Or Cleopatra's yellow hair: Where Alexander Do-and-Dare; The Wind has blown them all away^ And Redbeard of the Iron Chair; Where are the Dreams of Yesterday? Where is the Queen of Herod's kiss, And Phryne in her beauty bare; % *i 's^ \ / By what strange sea does Tomyris With Dido and Cassandra share Divine Proserpina's despair; The Wind has blown them all away — For what poor ghost does Helen care? Where are the Girls of Yesterday? Alas for lovers! Pair by pair The Wind has blown them all away: The young and yare, the fond and fair: Where are the Snows of Yesterday? — Villon Silent Love C'E, when 'tis true, needs not the aid Of sighs, nor aches, to make it known, And to convince the cruellest maid. Lovers should use their love alone. Into their very looks 'twill steal, And he that most would hide his ITame, Does in that case his pain reveal: Silence itself can love proclaim. — Sedley ^ ^ ^ ^ Wont You? O you rcnicnibcr when you heard My lips breathe love's first faltering word? You do, sweet— don't you? When, having wandered all the day, Linked arm in arm, I dared to say: "You'll love me — won't you?" And when you blushed and eould not speak, I fondly kissed your glowing eheek; Did that alfront you? Oh! surely not; your eye exprest No wrath— but said perhaps in jest: "You'll love 7?ie— won't vou?" k)^>X^ ^ Love me with thine open youth In its frank surrender; V/ith the vowing of thy mouth, With its silence tender. Love me with thine azure eyes, Made for earnest granting! Taking colour from the skies, Can Heaven's truth be wanting? Love me with thine hand stretched out Freely — open-minded : Love me with thy loitering foot, — Hearing one behind it. Love me with thy voice, that turns Sudden faint above me; Love me with thy bhish that burns When I murmur "Love me!" • — Mrs. Broivning 85 '^X^^Xi^' K~ i P^ \1 s D ^^^t W^. Dost Thou Remember OST thou remember that place so lonely, A place for lovers, and lovers only, Where first I told thee all my secret sighs? When as the moonbeam, that trembled o'er thee. Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee, And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes? Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart. Love bound us — never, never more to part — And when I call'd thee by names the dearest That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest— "My life, my only life!" among the rest; In those sweet accents that still inthral me, Thou saidst, "Ah! wherefore thy life thus call me? ^ Thy soul, thy soul's the name that I love Jt^f ^v> best; H^f^ For life soon passes — but how bless'd to be i^>.^fc^^X That soul which never, never parts from thee!" —Moore 86 Mv p XXM Song RITHEE send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine, For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it he; To find it were in vain; For thou'st a thief in either eye Would steal it back again. Why should two hearts in one breast he, And yet not lodge together? O Love! where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts thou sever? But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out; For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am in most doubt. Then farewell care, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine: For I'll beheve I have her heart As much as she has mine. ^isi£^>C K^ At the Church Gate ALTHOUGH I enter not, Yet round the spot Oft-times I hover: And near the sacred gate, With longing eyes I wait. Expectant of her. The Minster bell tolls out Above the city's rout. And noise and humming: They've hushed the Minster bell; The organ 'gins to swell; She's coming, she's coming! My lady comes at last. Timid, and stepping fast, And hastening hither. With modest eyes downcast : She comes^ — she's here — she's past: May heaven go with her! V (y ^*4 Kneel undisturbed, fair saint! Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly; I will not enter there To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly. But sufler me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute Like outcast spirits who wait And see through Heaven's gate Angels within it. ^j , — 1 hacker ay The Stowaway LONE in the dark post-wagon We travelled the lovelong night; We nestled close to each other, With laughing and jesting light. But how we stared next morning, My lassie, when broke the day! For 'twixt us two sat Cupid, A smiling stowaway. jj . 89 V-- Si ^^m" /\/.•, y >wvvV ,V/> I Sonnet from the Portuguese F I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing, and the common kiss That comes to each in turn , nor cou nt it strange, When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and lloors — another home than this? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is Filled by dead eyes, too tender to know change? That's hardest! If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief tries more — as all things prove : For grief indeed is love, and grief beside. Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love — Yet love me — wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within the wet wings of thy dove. —Mrs. Browning ft V ./i m 92 The Love-Letter EAR EIpIs, all my thoughts and all my wishes are for thee — Well be it with my sweetest girl, if so indeed it be That aught may e'er be well with her, when she is far from me. &<^m'^ 'V ^yA\} Alone, and all unmated, by thy shining eyes, I lx^J anywhere. I cannot see the palaces or towers for my tears; The landscape, too, is blotted with a mist that never clears; y All dim and pale the temple of great Artemis /^I'ijs/J^ appears. y^^j[\^\, To-morrow^ I am going home; ah, gods, what ^ ^^wx happiness! 1 \/l And when against my heart again, thee, dear . WJjl\^| one, I shall press, ^^vpj^i A thousand times I'll kiss thee, and a thousand ^ ^1 times caress. -Sedgwick 93 14)Q^>^Xio6(W^ /NT/ "9^ xiSiS^^xxx X xxxxxxx^ hi p i P/i(7/;,s iHILLIS is my only joy, Faithless as the winds or seas, Sometimes cunning, sometimes coy, Yet she never fails to please; If with a frown I am cast down, Philhs smihng And bcguihng Makes mc happier than before. Though ahis! too hite I find Nothing can her fancy fix. Yet the moment she is kind I forgive her v>ith her tricks; Which though I see, I can't get free,— She deceiving, I believing, — What need lovers wish for more? 9<2:xxxxaaA^ Ask Me No More SK me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from Heaven and take the shape, With told to fold, of mountain or of cape: <^ y/^ x'^ But, O too fond, when have I answer'd thee? A V Ask me no more. Ask me no more: what answer should I give? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; Ask me no more. Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd: ^ \\ ) I strove against the stream and all in vain: y\SV/^ Let the great river take me to the main: No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; Ask me no more. — Tennyson w'^ sXIi/vXXK/ <>0< <><>Q XXX) AovV t 96 X\AX><^/V< m^^ XXX XXX ^^ Who Is Sylvia HO is Sylvia? What is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The Heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. w; Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Sylvia let us sing. That Sylvia is excelhng: She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelhng: \^^^IN^ To her let us garlands bring. — Shakespeare X k XX7 » My Wife s a Winsome Wee Thing HE is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine. s I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer, And niest my heart I'll wear her For fear my jewel tine. She is a winsome wee thing. She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing. This sweet wee wife o' mine. The warl's wrack we share o't, The warstle and the care o't; Wi' her I'll bhthely bear it, And think my lot divine. Burns \ 'p- "^ By Love Must Love Be Mastered \ \ love must love be mastered, fire by fire, Passion by passion. When the heart grows warm, Its flames must quench the 11a me of its desire, Its new-found strength must quell its gath- ering storm. Not law, not duty, not the warning voice Of saint or angel keeps love's compass true; Reckless of Fate love makes its fateful choice: To love alone is love's allegiance due. Love's power alone can make love's passion pure: Love's voice alone can bid love's tumult cease: Love's pain alone can make love's bhss endure: Love's fire alone brings to love's fever peace. O love! inflame my heart, and set it free From every wild unhallowed dream of thee. —Holmes w^^ A Birthday Y heart is like a singing l3ird Whose nest is in a watered shoot; . My heart is hke an apple tree Whose boughs are bent with thickest fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea — My heart is gkidder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a dais of silk and down, Hang it with vair and purple dyes. Carve it in doves, and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it gold and silver grapes, In leaves, and silver lleurs-de-Iys, Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me, — Rossetti XX 5' s X sM i *1 K \ T Loves Philosophy *HE fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of Heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle — Why not I with thine? See the mountains kiss high heaven. And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother: And the sunhght clasps the earth. And the moonbeams kiss the sea, What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me? — Shelley m > 1 ,iLc lliosc Nuwin l);nks ol \ ore, 1 hnl ^onlly, o'er ;i piM"! iinu-d sc^a, \\\c \\c:\y\, \\i\\-\\on\ wniulcMor horc Vo his own lint i\ o shoic. On tlcspcialo sc\is l(>Il^ \\o\\[ to roam, rii\' lisacMiUh hail", th\ classic lace, Thv Naiacl airs ha\c hrou^h.l nic home To the i^loi"> that was Chcccc, Aiul thcgraiulcui" that was Rome. Lo! in von hnlhaiU w iiulow-nichc Mow statiu^-hkc> I see thee staiul, The a^ati- lamp w ilhm thv haiul! Ah, Psvche, Irom the regions which Arc lloly-Land! —Poe Why so Pale, Fond Lover '^ WIIV s(^ pale and wan, loncl l(ncr? Prithee, why so jjale? Will, uhe/i looking well ean't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee why so pale? Why so dull and nuite, young sinner? l-*rithee, why so mute? Will, w hen speaking well ean't win her, Saying iK)tliing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, ({uit, for shame, this will not move: This eannot take her. 11 ol hersell she will not love, Nothing ean make her: The devil take her! — Suckling y' <2QQL >*} K To Lucasta. On Going to The Wars ELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I lly. True, a new mistress now I chase. The hrst foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more. ^Lovelace Love ALL thoughts, all passions, all dchghts. Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred llame. 1 06 ^^r-% 1^ K fX J« The Lost Love SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove; A maid whom there w^ere none to praise, And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and Oh! The difference to me! „, , — Wordsworth Loves Resume ^HE Sun, the Rose, the Lily, the Dove,— I loved them all, in my early love. I love them no longer, but her alone,— The Pure, the Tender, the Only, the One. For she herself, my Queen of Lo\e, Is Rose, and Lily, and Sun, and Dove! T] ; •Ife^ On^ Word Too Often Profaned ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And Pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not: The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow? —Shelley \\ x^ The Mi^ht of One Fair Face HE might of one fair face sublimes my love, For it hath weaned my heart from low desires; Nor death I heed, nor purgatorial fires. Thy beauty, antepast of joys alcove. Instructs me in the bhss that saints approve; For oh, how good, how beautiful, must be The God that made so good a thing as thee. So fair an image of the Heavenly Dove! Forgive me, if I cannot turn away From those sweet eyes that are my earthly Heaven ; For they arc guiding stars, benignly given To tempt my footsteps to the upward way; And if I dwell too fondly in thy sight, I live and love in God's pecuhar light. — Michael Angela %d>'^^/^^s^ ■m^ Hinc Illx Lacrimx Y Lais with her pretty wiles, Subdues me to her will; [owever sweet may be her smiles, Her tears are sweeter still. The other day, she wept, and when She laid her head at this Close up against my shoulder, then I gave the girl a kiss. [ And as a trickhng streamlet drips Down from a fountainside, Her tears fell on our meeting lips: — I asked her why she cried, She said: "You wonder at my tears; What should I do but grieve? You fill me with too many fears; I know that men deceive." — Sedgwick no ^ ^/J^"*^^. '' cXVyyWx!i^/N, AT-^i. 4^. f^ OVE me or not, Love her I must or die; Leave me or not, Follow her needs must I ; Oh! that she might All my wish'd comforts give; How rich in her. How happy I should hve. Could I enchant, Or that it lawful were, Her would I charm Softly that none should hear! All my delight, All my desire should be Her to adore, Her to unite with me. Campion y '>^^ E 'OVE is not a feeling to pass away, Like the balmy breath of a Summer-day; It is not — it cannot be — hiid aside; It is not a thing to forget or hide. It chngs to the heart, ah, woe is me! As the ivy chngs to the old oak-tree. Love is not a passion of earthly mould. As a thirst for honour, or fame, or gold; For when all these wishes have died away. The deep strong love of a brighter day, Though nourished in secret, consumes the more. As the slow rust eats to the iron's core. —Dickens x: \^ IT was a lover and his lass With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino! That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the Spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing hey ding a ding: Sweet lovers love the Spring. Between the acres of the rye These pretty country folks would lie: This carol they began that hour, How that life was but a flower: And therefore take the present time With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino! For love is crowned with the prime In Spring time, the only pretty ring time. When birds do sing hey ding a ding: Sweet lovers love the Spring. — Shakespeare /v C mob Love Is a Sickness OVE is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that most with cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies. If not enjoyed, it sighing cries. Heigh-ho! Love is a torment of tlie mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove hath made it of a kind Not well, nor full nor fasting. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies, If not enjoyed, it sighing cries. Heigh-ho! — Daniel >} r^fc Come hither, the dances arc done, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls. Queen lily and rose in one; Shine out, httlc head, sunning over with curls, To the llowers, and be their sun. She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed; My dust would hear her and beat. Had I Iain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red. ■ — Tennyson On a Girdle 'HAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind: No monarch but would give his crown His arms misht do what this has done. T] 1 It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely dear: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair: Give me but what this ribband bound. Take all the rest the sun goes round. -Waller Sweetheart OT from the whole wide world I chose thee, Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea The wide, wide world could not inclose thee, For thou art the whole wide world to me. — Gilder ii6 ">'! A Song s TAR that bringcst home the bee, And sett'st the weary labourer free! If any star shed peace, 'tis thou, That send'st it from above, Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow, Are sweet as hers we love. Come to the luxuriant skies. Whilst the landscape's odours rise. Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard. And songs, when toil is done. From cottages whose smoke unstirred Curls yellow in the sun. Star of love's soft interviews. Parted lovers on thee muse; Their remembrancer in Heaven Of thrilhng vows thou art, Too dehcious to be riven By absence from the heart. — Campbell 117 V Xx ^^^/\^^/5>< pv9s>y /Vyyyv -v>>>>>v ? Forever and a Day LITTLE know or care If the l)lackl)ird on the bough Is filling all tlie air \\ ith his soft crescendo now; For she is gone away, And when she went she took The Springtime in her look, The peachblow on her cheek, The laughter from the brook. The blue from out the iMa}', And what she calls a week, Is forever and a day. It's httle that I mind How the blossoms pink or white At ev'ry touch of wind Fall a-trembhng with dehght; For in the lealy lane Beneath the garden boughs. And thro' the silent house, One thing alone I seek; ii8 m^My Until she comes again The May is not the May, And what she calls a week, Is forever and a day. y V — Aldrich Maiden with the Lips like Rosebuds M AIDEN with the hps hke rosebuds, And with eyes both sweet and clear, l/xf)^^ O my darhng Httle maiden, j|^ ^ In my heart I hold thee here! Long I find the Winter evening, And I might be with thee there. By thee sitting, with thee chatting In thy room where comes no care. To my hps I might be pressing Rapturously thy small white hand. With my tears that hand bedewing Tenderly, that small white hand. j>) \ -Heine 119 "^7ir ^m^6- ^. The Lark Noiv Leaves His Wat'rv Nest X T 'HE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing, shakes his dewy wingS: He takes your window for the East, And to implore your light he sings; Awake, awake, the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. X w> y > The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season S/'X/Nv^igxSJ But still the lover wonders what they are, ' Who k^ok for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake, break through your veils of Then draw your curtains, and begin the ^ ■'^ dawn. — Davenant CATCH her and hold her if you can — See, she defies you with her fan, Shuts, opens, and then holds it spread In threatening guise above your head. Ah! why did you not start before She reacht the porch and closed the door? Simpleton! will you never learn That girls and time will not return; Of each you should have made the most, Once gone, they are forever lost. In vain your knuckles knock your brow, In vain will you remember how Like a shm brook the gamesome maid Sparkled, and ran into the shade. Landor Bonny Leslie To see her is to love her. And love but her forever; For Nature made her what she is. And never made another! \Y^/ic'n Other Friends W < !t vy< XK >^^^ ^/S/ %< Song I NE'ER could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, But where my own did hope to sip. Has the maid who seeks my heart Cheeks of rose, untouched by art? I will own the colour true. When yielding blushes aid their hue. < \ Is her hand so soft and pure? I must press it, to be sure; Nor can I be certain then. Till it, grateful, press again. Must I, with attentive eye, Watch her heaving bosom sigh? I will do so when I sec That heaving bosom sigh for me \K^ if^^^M <>< — Sheridan ^^S5££s ^^x^ IntheYearThafsComeandGone I N the year that's come and gone, Love, his flying feather, Stooping slowly, gave us heart, and bade us walk together. In the year that's coming on, though many a troth be broken. We at least will not forget aught that Love hath spoken. In the year that's come and gone, dear, we wove a tether All of gracious words and thoughts, binding two together. In the year that's coming on, with its wealth of roses. We shaH weave it stronger yet, ere the circle closes. In the year that's come and gone, in the golden weather. Sweet, my sweet, we swore to keep the watch ^ of hfe together. 124 vf V\f "^JC^f 4^"^ ^^ J*N^ In the year that's coming on, rich in joy and sorrow, y^y v§ We shall light our lamp, and wait hfe's mys- b>i^ terious morrow. —Henley To Cell a [xkxx) H E that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires. Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires, — ,^ As old Time makes these decay, y\ So his flames must waste away. ■^^ But a smooth and steadfast mind. Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires : Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. Carew M XXM Maid of Athens AID of AthcMis, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go. My dearest life, I love thee. By those tresses unconfmed. Wooed by each Aegean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By those wild eyes like the roe. My dearest life, I love thee. By that lip I long to taste; By that zone-encircled waist; By all the token-flowers that tell What words can never speak so well; By love's alternate joy and woe. My dearest life, I love thee. 126 >>s\XAik^A>; XXX XXX ^.sv. XXk; xx^ooc Maid of Athens! I am gone; Think of me, sweet! when alone. Though I fly to Istambol, Athens holds my heart and soul; Can I cease to love thee? No! My dearest life, I love thee. -Byron The Wanderer N/ X r OVE comes back to his vacant dwelling — The old, old Love we knew of yore! We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad and his bosom swelhng He makes as though in our arms repelling, He fain would he as he lay before; — Love comes back to his vacant dwelling — The old, old Love we knew of yore! Ah, who shall help us from overteHing That sweet forgotten, forbidden lore! E'en as we doubt in our hearts once more. With a rush of tears to our eyehds welling. Love comes back to his vacant dwelling. —Dobson '^^ 5< Young Love IFE hath its memories lovely, That over the heart are blown, As over the face of the Autumn The hght of the Summer flown; Pasing out of the mist so chifling. That oft life's sky enshrouds, Like a new moon sweetly filling Among the twihght clouds. And among them comes, how often. Young love's unresting wraith, To hft lost hope out of ruins To the gladness of perfect faith; Drifting out of the past as lightly As winds of the May-time flow: And Hfting the shadows brightly. As the dafl'odil hfts the snow. \l THE touches of her hands are hke the fall Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall; The ilossy fondhngs of the thistle-wisp Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown The bhghting frost hath turned from green to crisp. Soft as the falhng of the dusk at night, The touches of her hands, and the dehght — The touches of her hands! The touches of her hands are hke the dew That falls so softly down no one e'er knew The touch thereof save lovers hke to one Astray in hghts where ranged Endymion. O rarely soft, the touches of her hands, As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands; Or pulse of dying fay; or fairy sighs; Or — in between the midnight and the dawn. When long unrest and tears and fears are gone — Sleep, smoothing down the hds of weary eyes. 129 —Riley xV^I^S? SI w. ^ A Kiss Within the Cup T 'HERE is no gladness in the glass Unless thou pour for me; But taste it first before it pass, And I will drink with thee; For if those lovely Hps of thine Have breathed upon the brim, I swear that I will drain the wine, Although it reach the rim. Oh, who could bear to say thee nay, When thou hast kissed the cup? Or who would turn the other way. When thou hast filled it up? For oh, the cup has kept the kiss And carries me a share. To show me all the w^asted bliss Thy lips have lavished there! — Sedgwick 130 *ip— If There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind T 'HERE is a Lady sweet and kind, Was never face so pleased my mind; I did but see her passing by, And yet I love her till I die. Her gesture, motion, and her smiles. Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles. Beguiles my heart, I know not why, And yet I love her till I die. Cupid is winged and doth range Her country so my love doth change: But change the earth, or change the sky. Yet will I love her till I die. Ford Go, Lovely Rose G O, lovely rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me. That now she knows. When I reseriible her to thee. How sweet and fair she seems to be. — Waller ^ ./ &^ fy^Z y\ I / Do Not Love Thee DO not love thee! — no! I do not Icve thee! And yet when thou art absent I am sad; And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad. I do not love thee! — yet, I know not why, Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me: And often in my solitude I sigh That those I do love are not more like thee! I do not love thee! — yet, when thou art gone, I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear) Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear. — Norton ^^ Lines E" other bards of angels sing, — Bright suns without a spot; But thou art no such perfect thing; , Rejoice that thou art not! Heed not though none should call thee fair; So, Mary, let it be. If naught in loveliness compare With what thou art to me. True beauty dwells in deep retreats. Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats. And the lover is beloved. — Wordsworth Somewhere or Other OMEWHERE or other there must surely ^^ be The face not seen, the voice not heard, The heart not yet — never yet — oh me! Made answer to my word. 133 -Rossetti ^ 3'''^xm»^i A Woman s Answer LOVE, too, to be loved; all loving praise Seems like a crown upon my life, to make It better worth the giving, and to raise Still nearer to your own the heart you take. I love all good and noble souls; I heard One speak of you but lately, and for days, Only to think of it, my soul was stirred In tender memory of such generous praise. I love all those who love you, all who owe Comfort to you; and I can find regret Even for those poorer hearts w^ho once could know, And once could love you, and can now forget. Will you be jealous? Did you guess before I loved so many things? Still you the best; Dearest, remember that I love you more. Oh, more a thousand times, than all the rest! — Procter x:>^u^y^^. ^.*J^ i; W^/iy A^fe of Others:^ w HY ask of others what they cannot say, — Others, who for thy good have little care? Come close, dear friend, and learn a better way; Look in my eyes, and read my story there! Trust not thine own proud wit; 'tis idle dream- ing! The common gossip of the street forbear; Nor even trust my acts or surface-seeming: Ask only of my eyes; my truth is there. My lips refuse an answer to thy boldness; Or with false, cruel words deny thy prayer, — Beheve them not, I hate them fortheircoldness! Look in my eyes; my love is written there. — Rueckert ^ y^xx THERE is no life on earth but being in love! There are no studies, no dehghts, no business, No intercourse, or trade of sense, or soul, But what is love! I was the laziest creature. The most unprofitable sign of nothing, The veriest drone, and slept away my life Beyond the dormouse, till I was in love! And now I can outwake the nightingale, Outwatch an usurer, and outwalk him too! Stalk likea ghost that haunted 'bout a treasure. And all that fancied treasure, it is love! — Jonson y Writing w HEN words we want. Love teacheth to indite; And what we bhish to speak, she bids us write. — Herrick 136 /i N y w :Ni y '\ o The Unchangeable NEVER say that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my ilame to qualify: As easy might I from myself depart As for my soul, which in thy breast doth lie; That is my home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again, Just to the time, not with the time unchanged. So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stain'd To leave for nothing all thy sum of good: For nothing this wide universe I call. Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all. — Shakespeare C OVE strikes one hour — love! those never loved. Who dream that they loved once. — Mrs. Browning 137 V f~^^^ w ^^^2. A To Love HY should I blush to own I love? 'Tis love that rules tlie reahns above. Why should I bhish to say to all That virtue holds my heart in thrall? Why should I seek the thickest shade, Lest Love's dear secret be betrayed? ^ Why the stern brow deceitful move, When I am languishing with love? Is it weakness thus to dwell On passion that I dare not tell? Such weakness I would ever prove. 'Tis painful, though 'tis sweet, to love. White ^T A Warning RUST no prayer nor promise; Words are grains of sand: To keep your heart unbroken, Hold it in your hand. f ^ '^^V^ 138 —Procter ^ gH _^ f9 k ir r / May Not Love Thee \ 1 m MAY not love thee." "May not!" but I do: This is my title to the crown of love, — A title which each heart-beat doth renew, — A title ancient as the stars above. "I may not love thee." "May not!" but I must: When Nature's mightiest forces are at play The ship, o'ermastered by the whirhng gust. Forgets its course and wanders far astray. "I may not love thee." "May not!" but I will: My soul loves thine and glories in love's name, — Itself its arbiter of good and ill,— Itself the well-spring of its ardent flame. I may not love thee, my Beloved ! but still Love thee I do, I must, I ever will. — Holmes \ ^^^^^^ '1* / Love My Love with a Kiss OH, I love my love in the lovely Summer time With a kiss — or two — or three; Like a rose in June in the full of the moon, She is lovely, my love — is she! So I hold her close, and sing her a rhyme With a kiss— or two — or three; Like the honey of the bee or the blossom of the thyme Is my love, so dear to me. Oh, I love my love in the happy Autumn days ^ With a kiss^ — or four — or five; She is Hke the trees in the swinging of the breeze When the last warm breezes drive. So I clasp her close, and sing her praise With a kiss — or four — or five; Like the aster's bhie in October's rays She's the happiest thing ahve! '^1^^^95< ^^^^ A/\/\Y\ AAA K\/\/\/\A / \ Oh, I love my love in the cheery Winter time With a kiss — or six — or seven; Like the reddening snow in the sunset glow Is her cherry cheek at even! It is all for her — the Christmas chime And a kiss — or six — or seven; Like the stars of the sky on the sparkhng rime Is my love — whose love is Heaven! Oh, I love my love in the merry Spring morn With a kiss — or eight — or nine; Like the clematis abloom or the violet's per = fume Is my love in the May sunshine. So I hold her dear when April's born With a kiss — or eight — or nine; Like the hhes in the brook or the flower of the thorn Is the love I know is mine! — Holden m^ m / / *1 •1 s She Walks in Beauty HE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect, and her eyes. Thus mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less. Had half-impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress Or softly lightens o'er her face. Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear, their dwclling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow So soft, so cahii, yet eloquent. The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, — A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent. ^Byron „ * i ^ ^^^^-^ X X X >3 ^' Night Thoughts IS sweeter than all else below, The dayhght and its duties done, To fold the arms for rest, and so Relinquish all regards but one; To see her features in the dark; To he and meditate once more, Some grace he did not fully mark. Some tone he had not heard before, Then from beneath his head to take Her notes, her picture, and her glove. Put there for joy when he shall wake, And press them to the heart of love; And then to whisper "Wife," and pray To live so long as not to miss That unimaginable day Which farther seems the nearer 'tis; And still from joy's unfathomed well To drink, in sleep, while, on her brow Of innocence ineffable. The laughing bridal roses blow. — Palmare 143 >( ./ y \ > m^m6^^m. ^Y Love is Lifes End TOV L \ OVE is life's end; an end but never ending; All joys, all sweets, all happiness awarding; I Love is life's wealth (ne'er spent but ever spending), Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding: Then from thy wretched heart fond care remove. Ah! shouldst thou live but once love's sweets to prove. Thou wilt not love to hve, unless thou hve to love. —Spenser tt/, ■^ ^^ Love AY, do not pity me, that not a star Hangs in the bosom of my stormy sky Nor winglet of white feathers flutters by, Nor like a soft dream swims or near or far The golden atmosphere of poesy. Down in the heart from frivolous joys aloof Burn the pale fires, whose keen intensity Flames through the weh of hfe's discolored woof. And lights the white walls of eternity. Alas! the ravishment of Love's sweet trust May charm my life no more to passion's glow: Nor the light kisses of a lip of dust Crimson my forehead with the seal of woe; Well, were it otherwise, 'tis better so! — Cary 145 ^^ Love Me Little, Love Me Long E'E me little, love me long! Is the burden of my song; Love that is too hot and strong Burneth soon to waste. Still I would not have thee cold, Not too backward, not too bold; Love that lasteth till 'tis old Fadeth not in haste. Love me little, love me long! Is the burden of my song. If thou lovest me too much 'Twill not prove as true a touch ; Love me little more than such,-- For I fear the end. I'm with httle well content. And a little from thee sent Is enough with true intent To be steadfast, friend. Say thou lovest me, while thou live I to thee my love will give, 146 1 i Never dreaming to deceive While that Hfe endures; Nay, and after death in sooth, I to thee will keep my truth, As now when in my May of youth; This my love assures. Constant love is moderate ever, And it will through hfe persever; Give me that with true endeavour, - I will it restore. A suit of durance let it be, For all weathers, — that for me, — For the hind or for the sea, Lasting ever more. Winter's cold or Summer's heat. Autumn's tempests on it beat; It can never know defeat. Never can rebel. Such the love that I would gain. Such the love, I tell thee plain. Thou must give, or woo in vain So to thee — Farewell. W^i ^y\. The First Meeting I WISH I could remember that first day, First hour, first moment of your meeting me, If bright or dim the season, it might be Summer or Winter for aught I can say; So unrecorded did it slip away, So blind was I to see and to foresee. So dull to mark the budding of my tree That w^ould not blossom yet for many a May. If only I could recollect it — such A day of days! I let it come and go As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; It seemed to mean so little, meant so much; If only now I could recall that touch, First touch of hand in hand — did one but know! — Rossetti WW^ r s( ^ M r- v- Mans Love AN'S love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart. Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange |/^|J Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart. And few there are whom these cannot estrange; Men have all these resources, we but one: To love again, and be again undone. — Byron Absence zx I i w HEN I think on the happy days I spent wi' you, my dearie. And now what lands between us he, How can I be but eerie! How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, As ye were wae and weary.' It was na sae ye glinted by When I was wi' my dearie. 149 > l^^m-J^ /^ The Time Tve Lost in Wooing THE time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Though Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorned the lore she brought me, My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. -Moore My Bride M >6&^ Y bride, my wife, my life. Oh, we will walk this world. Yoked in all exercise of noble end And so thro' those dark gates across the wild That no man know^s. Indeed I love thee: come Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one: Accomphsh thou my manhood and thyself; Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me. 1^0 — Tennyson ^^^^^M4^?^ „ i XXX A H, sweet! thou little knowest how I wake, and passionate watches keep; And yet while I address thee now, Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. 'Tis sweet enough to make me weep That tender thought of love and thee, That while the world is hushed so deep Thy soul's perhaps awake to me. Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep, With golden visions for thy dower. While I this midnight vigil keep, And bless thee in thy silent bower; To me 'tis sweeter than the power Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurled, That I alone, at this still hour. In patient love outwatch the world. ^Hood i ri , My thoughts of thee too sacred are For daylight's common beam: I can but know thee as my star, My angel, and my dream! When stars are in the quiet skies. Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me then thy tender eyes. As stars look on the sea. — Owen Meredith M To Emelia Viviani ADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me Sweet basil and mignonette? Embleming love and health, which never yet In the same wreath might be. ALis, and they are wet! Is it with thy kisses or thy tears? For never rain or dew Such fragrance drew From pLant or flower — the very doubt endears My sadness ever new. The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee. 1^3 — Shelley ^ ^ M Hark, Hark, the Lark ARK! Hark! The lark at Heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chahc'd flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes; With everything that pretty is — My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise. — Shakespeare Gathered Roses NLY a bee made prisoner. Caught in a gathered rose! Was he not 'ware a flower so fair For the first gatherer grows? Only a heart made prisoner, Going out free no more! Was he not 'ware a face so fair Must have been gathered before? ■ — Bourdillon 154 / o^66^ OSE kissed me to-day, Will she kiss me to-morrow? Let it be as it may, Rose kissed me to-day. But the pleasure gives way To a savour of sorrows Rose kissed me to-day — Will she kiss me to-morrow? —Dobson Rose At It A^^ain OSE kissed me today, Who will kiss her to-morrow? 'That's always the way, — • When she kisses to-day, I ask with dismay, Not unmixed with sorrow: Rose kissed me to-day. Who will kiss her to-morrow? — FoUansbee Thou Lovest Me Not THOU lovest me not, thou lovest me not! 'Tis scarcely worth a sigh: Let me look in thy face, and no king in his place Is a gladder man than I. Thou hatest me well, thou hatest me well — Thy httle red mouth has told: Let it reach me a kiss, and, however it is, My child, I am well consoled. — Heine To Electra I DARE not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile. Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee. ^ c OVE is not made of kisses, or of sighs, Of clinging hands, or of the sorceries And subtle witchcrafts of alluring eyes. ^^ Her Beautiful Eyes k o H ER beautiful eyes ! they are as blue as the dew On the violet's bloom when the morn- ing is new, r And the light of their love is the gleam of the sun O'er the meadows of Spring where the quick shadows run: As the morn shifts the mists and the clouds from the skies — So I stand in the dawn of her beautiful eyes. And her beautiful eyes are as mid-day to me, When the hly-bell bends with the weight of the bee. And the throat of the thrush is a-pulse in the heat, And the senses are drugged with the subtle and sweet vj^ ^^ And dehrious breaths of the air's lullabies— ^^fc^^l^Sfi So I swoon in the noon of her beautiful eyes. rC'^^HB^Ir^ 158 C^J>Q^ ^^^^ XXX O her beautiful eyes! they have smitten mine own As a glory glanced down from the glare of the Throne; And I reel, and I falter and fall, as afar Fell the shepherds that looked on the mystical Star, And yet dazed in the tidings that bade them arise- - So I grope through the night of her beautiful ^ eyes. — Riley My Jean! T HOUGH cruel fate should bid us part, Far as the pole and hne, yw^XT yiSi ^^^ dear idea round my heart ^ i^ "^^ Shall tenderly entwine. / Though mountains rise, and deserts howl, ^ And oceans roar between; ^tx Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. ^ Burns 159 x> KNxy \ <^.^4^ ^/ W 'V Madrigal C^E not mc for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part: No, nor for a constant heart! For these may fail or turn to ill : So thou and I shall sever. Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why! So hast thou the reason still To dote upon me ever. A Match IF I were what the words are. And love were like the tune, With double sound and single DeHght our hps would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon ; If I were what the words are And love were like the tune. \S ^ OH, Beauty, passing Beauty! sweetest Sweet! How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs? I only ask to sit beside thy feet. Thou knowest I dare not look into thine Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold My arms about thee — scarcely dare to speak. And nothing seems to me so wild and bold, As w^ith one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek. Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control Within the thrilhng brain could keep afloat The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke, The bare word kiss hath made my inner soul To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note Hath melted in the silence that it broke. ^Tennysori / \ O- -^ -/>■ -^v j^ ^^^ ^ K k K Rub les o ^ FTEN I have heard it said That her hps are riibj^-red. Little heed I what they say, I have seen as red as they. Ere she smiled on other men, Real rubies were they then. When she kist me once in play, Rubies were less bright than they, And less bright were those which shone In the palace of the Sun. Will they be as bright again? Not if kist by other men. — Landor A Conceit You touched my heart; it gave a thrill Just like a rose That opens at a lady's will; Its bloom is always yours, until You bid it close. 162 — Collins vvSd Sonnet from the Portuguese NDEED, this very love which is my boast, And which, when rising up from breast to brow. Doth crown me with a ruby large enow To draw men's eyes, and prove the inner cost, — This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, I should not love withal, unless that thou Hadst set me an example, shown me how. When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed. And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak Of love even, as a good thing of my own. Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak. And placed it by thee on a golden throne,— And that I love, (O soul, I must be meek!) Is by thee only, whom I love alone. ^Mrs. Broivnins Lines to an Indian Air 1 ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? — To thy chamber-window, sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream; And the champak odors pine Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint It dies upon her heart. As I must die on thine, O beloved as thou art! p O lift me from the grass! I die, I faint, I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my hps and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, aks! My heart beats loud and fast; O press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last! Shelley Proposal THE violet loves a sunny bank, The cowshp loves the lea, The scarlet creeper loves the elm, But I love— thee. The sunshine kisses mount and vale. The stars, they kiss the sea, The west winds kiss the clover bloom, But I kiss^thee. The oriole weds his mottled mate. The hly's bride o' the bee; Heaven's marriage ring is round the earth Shall I wed thee? 165 — Taylor i^^^ Destiny s OMEWHERE there waiteth in this ^^ orld of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours And meeting strangely at one sudden goal. Then blend they, hke green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole; And hfe's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day. a i i A Ch a in C^E shall be purihed by Pain, And Pain be soothed by Love again; So let us now take heart and go Cheerfully on, through joy and woe; No change the Summer sun can bring. Or the inconstant skies of Spring, Or the bleak \\ inter's stormy weather, For we shall meet them. Love, together! 1 66 — Procter J& K ;a^ rSP5 VV With my folly anc mmK^rKlK ^ ^ Wllt thou take me \ thy slave, d my love? for the bonds- Ifeff ' man of tliy pride, Thou who dearer art to me than all the world beside? For I love thee as no other man can love. Wilt thou take me to thy soul. For the truth which thou shalt prove? Wilt thou clothe me with tlie riches of thy care, Thou who dearer art to me than gold m. and jewels rare .7 For I love thee as no other man can love. Wilt thou take me for thy king. While tlie sun and stars shall move? 170 XXX >9y< ^>. A<1 Wilt thou pay me back the homage I have given ; Oh thou dearer unto me than sun and stars and heaven? For I love thee as no other man can love. —Blunt O To Ellen H ! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire: Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss: Nor then my soul should sated be; Still would I kiss and chng to thee: Naught should my kiss from thine dissever; Still would we kiss, and kiss forever; E'en though the numbers did exceed The yellow harvest's countless seed. To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist?— ah! never— never. —Byron 171 WL. ♦ ^ h X IXJ 'sesfT. ^::^ Telepathy A ND how could you dream of meeting Nay, how can you ask me, sweet? All day my pulse had been beating The tune of your coming feet. And as nearer and ever nearer I felt the throb of your tread, To be in the world grew dearer, And my blood ran rosier red. Love called, and I could not Hnger, But sought the forbidden tryst. As music follows the finger Of the dreaming lutanist. And though you had said it and said it, 'We must not be happy to-day,' Was I not wiser to credit The fire in my feet than your Nay? — Lowell *W0 young fair lovers, Where the warm June wind, Fresh from the sunny fields, Plays fondly round them, Stand, tranced in joy, With sweet, join'd voices, And with eyes brimming; "Ah," they cry, "Destiny, Prolong the present! Time, stand still here!" F every rose with gold were tied. Did gems for dewdrops fall, One faded leaf where Love had sighed Were sweetly worth them alL — Moore Good Night G OOD night! Goodnight! Ah, good the night That wraps thee in its silver light. Good night! No night is good for me That docs not hold a thought of thee. Good night. Good night! Be every night as sweet As that which made our love complete, Till that last night when death shall be One brief "Good night!" for thee and me. Good night! Love In Idleness I ONLY see — that thou art near, I only feel — I have thee, dear! I only hear thy throbbing heart. And know that we can never part. — Massey KXX m ^ 4 X The Love-Letter w x'xx KXX " ' V ARMED by her hand and shadowed by her hair As close she leaned and poured her heart through thee, Whereof the articuhite throbs accompany The smooth black stream that makes thy whiteness fair, — Sweet fluttering sheet, even of her breath aware, — Oh, let thy silent song disclose to me That soul wherewith her hp and eyes agree Like married music in Love's answering air. Fain had I watched her when, at some fond thought Her bosom to the writing closeher press'd. And her breast's secrets peered into her ^l^^s breast; " ' When, through eyes raised an instant, her soul sought My soul, and from the sudden conlhience caught The words that made her love the lovehest. — Rossetti 175 6666 \ % Song from "A Blot on the ^Scutcheon ^ THERE'S a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest; And her noble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the surest. And her eyes are dark and humid, hke the depth on dcptli of histre Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape chister. Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble: Then her voice's music . . . call it the well's bubbhng, the bird's warble! And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were moonless, Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's outbreak tuneless. If you loved me not!" And I who ( — ah, for words of llame!) adore her! Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate pal- pably before her — 176 I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me, And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me! — Browning My Lifes Delight COME, O come, my Hfe's dehght! Let me not in kmguor pine! Love loves no dehiy; thy sight The more enjoyed, the more divine! O come, and take from me The pain of being deprived of thee! Thou all sweetness dost enclose, Like a Httle world of bliss; Beauty guards thy looks, the rose In them pure and eternal is: Come, then, and make thy flight As swift to me as heavenly light! — Campion ^e^ssai ^ Hozt^ Roses Came Red OSES at first were white, Till they could not agree, Whether my Sappho's breast Or they more white should be. But, being vanquish'd quite, A bkish their cheeks bespread; Since which, believe the rest. The roses first came red. — Herrick The Silent Lover The shallows murmur, but the deeps are ^^^/^/ dumb; |\/^ /^X^ So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. ^\ They that are rich in words, in words discover /, y That they are poor in that which makes a lover. 'v^Kjfc^v/ -Raleigh * •^^*^^>S X ^ ^W^"^^ The Rose^s Message CAN you read in the heart of a rose, love, A message of love strong and true? Can you hear in the scent that it gives, love, A whisper of longing for you? Can you feci in the petals that fall, love, That a true heart is pining away? Can you know in the thorns of the stem, love, The pain that that heart feels each day? Will you read the dear message I send, love, In the roses I lay at your feet? Oh, believe that the rose heart is mine, love; Do not spurn it or crush it, my sweet! —Abbott The Pain of Love MIGHTY pain to love it is. And 't is a pain that pain to miss, But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain! 179 — Cowley A XX r?^ xm Since First I Saw Your Face SINCE first I saw your face I resolved To honor and renown you; If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known you. What! I that loved, and you that hked, Shall we begin to wrangle? No, no, no, my heart is fast And cannot disentangle. The sun whose beams most glorious are, Rejecteth no beholder. And your sweet beauty past compare. Made my poor eyes the bolder. Where beauty moves, and wit delights And signs of kindness bind me. There, oh ! there, where'er I go I leave my heart behind me. If I admire or praise you too much, That fault you may forgive me. Or if my hands had strayed but a touch, Then justly might you leave me. 1 80 '« H F love is blind, how can it be That these blind eyes of mine should see, As I was walking down the way, The flutter of a garment gray Beneath the windy willow-tree? And as I walked more rapidly, How could I know she did not flee, But made an innocent delay, If love is bhnd? I saw her soft hair blowing free, I saw her flushing tenderly, And in her eyes there shone a ray Caught from the East at dawn of day; How could I tell it was for me, If love is blind? i8i iKTi FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden, Thou needest not fear mine; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burden thine. I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion. Thou needest not fear mine; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine. — Shelley 'k r' \ i-i;^ /n ''X> ^ 6% .>^ KXX Answer to a Child s Question D O you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove. The Hnnet, and thrush say, "I love, and I love!" \^ In Winter they're silent, the wind so strong; '"* \ What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud '^ ' f song. S \ ^ /\ l9i*t^< € i. rsXX KXX Then haste, and guard the treasure now, When fondly you've enshrined it. For there's a heart for every one, If every one could find it. — Swain Her Face and Brow AH, help me! but her face and brow / \ Are loveher than the hlies are ^ ^ Beneath the light of moon and star That smile as they are smihng now — White Hhes in a paUid swoon Of sweetest white beneath the moon — White hhes, in a flood of bright Pure lucidness of hquid fight Cascading down some plenihme, When all the azure overhead Blooms fike a dazzfing daisy-bed. So fiiminous her face and brow, The fiister of their glory, shed In memory, even, bfinds me now. r In the Spring IN the Spring a fuller erimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the Spring a liveher iris changes on the bur- nish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy Hghtly turns to thoughts of love. — Tennyson If You Love Me Still SWEET, if you like and love me still, And yield me love for my goodwill, And do not from your promise start When your fair hand gave me your heart; If dear to you I be As you are dear to me. Then yours I am and will be ever: Nor time nor place my love shall sever, But faithful still will I persevere, Like constant marble stone, Loving but you alone W^ The Religion of Love O thou but love me, dear, with thy whole heart What care I for the rest, for good or ill? What for the peace of soul good deeds impart? What for the tears unholy dreams distill? These cannot make my joy, nor shall they kill Thou only perfect peace and virtue art And hohness for me and strength and will- So thou but love me with a perfect heart. I ask thee now no longer to be wise; No longer to be good, but loving me, I ask thee nothing now only this. Henceforth my Bible, dear, shall be thine eyes. My beads thy hps, my prayers thy constancy. My Heaven thine arms, eternity thy kiss. Xite^ Song O moonlight deep and tender, A year and more agone, Your mist of golden splendor Round my betrothal shone! O elm-Ieaves dark and dewy, The very same ye seem, The low wind trembles through ye, Ye murmur in my dream! O river, dim with distance. Flow thus forever by, A part of my existence Within your heart doth he! O stars, ye saw our meeting, Two beings and one soul. Two hearts so madly beating To mingle and be whole! O happy night, dehver Her kisses back to me. Or keep them all, and give her A bhssful dream of me! 1 88 —Lowell A Love Lesson A SWEET "No, no," with a sweet smile beneath, Becomes an honest girl; I'd have you learn it: — As for plain "Yes," it may be said i' faith Too plainly and too oft : — pray well discern it — Not that I'd have my pleasure incomplete Or lose the kiss for which my lips beset you ; But that in suffering me to take it, sweet, I'd have you say, "No, no, I will not let you." — Hunt The Exchange E pledged our hearts, my love and I, I in my arms the maiden cLasping; could not tell the reason why, But, oh! I trembled like an aspen. Her father's love she bade me gain; I went, and shook hke any reed! I strove to act the man — in vain! We had exchanged our hearts indeed. 189 — Coleridge ^ H OW delicious is the winning Of a kiss at Love's beginning When two mutual hearts are sighing For the knot there's no untying! ^M m Yet remember, 'midst your wooing, Love has bhss, but Love has ruing; Other smiles may make you fickle, Tears for other charms may trickle. Love he comes, and Love he tarries. Just as fate or fancy carries; Longest stays when sorest chidden ; Laughs and flies, when pressed and bidden. Bind the sea to shimber stilly. Bind its odor to the lily, Bmd the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to List forever! Love's a fn-e that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel; Love's wing moults when caged and captured, Only free he soars enraptured. 190 m p^^ "^'4 > Can you keep the bee from ranging, Or the ring-dove's neck from changing? No! nor fettered Love from dying In the knot there's no untying. — Campbell M A Ditty Y true-love hath my heart, and I have ^ his, By just exchange one for another given : I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, W/KVrvyf There never was a better bargain driven: PVV 1^ My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. V ^ His heart in me keeps him and me in one, V ^ ^"^ heart in him his thoughts and senses r^^jrS guides: i>^ /'JJ^ He loves my heart, for once it was his own, K^ I cherish his because in me it bides: My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. ■ — Sidnev X ^ 555^ N She Laughed Wf4 s HE laughed — she chmbed the giddy height. I held that chmber small; I even held her rather tight, For fear that she should falL A dozen girls were chirping round, Like five and twenty Hnnets, — I must have held her, I'll be bound. Some live and twenty minutes. — Locker \ y An Explanatior HER lips were so near That — what else could I do? \ ou'Il be angry, I fear, But her lips were so near — Well, I can't make it clear, Or explain it to you. But — her lips were so near That — what else could I do? 192 —Learned 0, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast | OWERT thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee; Or did Misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw. Thy bield should be my bosom. To share it a', to share it a'. Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sac black and bare, The desert were a Paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there; Or were I monarch o' the globe, \Vi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my Crown Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen. — Burns The Land o the Leal do I'M wearing awa', Jean, Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean; I'm wearing awa' To the Land o' the Leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair In the Land o' the Leah Ye were aye leal and true, Jean; Your task's ended noo, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the Land o' the Leak Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, She was baith guid and fair, Jean; O, we grudged her right sair To the Land o' the Leal! Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean My soul langs to be free, Jean, And angels wait on me To the Land o' the Leal! 66c Ik Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean, This warld's care is vain, Jean; We'll meet and aye be fain In the Land o' the Leal. Song I It is the httle rift within the kite That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all. The httle rift within the lover's hite, Or httle pitted speck in garnered fruit. That rotting inward slowly moulders all. It is not worth the keeping: let it go: But shall it? answer, darhng; answer, no. And trust me not at all, or ah in all. — Tennyson 195 N Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, Faith and un faith can ne'er be equal powers ; Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. I>#1 t % Good-Night OOD-NIGHT?" No, love! the night is ill Which severs those it should unite; Let us remain together still, — Then it will be good night. G How were the night without thee good? Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight? Be it not said, thought, understood,— Then it will be good night. The hearts that on each other beat From evening close to morning light Have nights as good as they are sweet. But never say "Good-night." ^7 jj Upon a Virgin Kissing a Rose 'WAS but a single rose, Till you on it did breathe; But since, methinks, it shows Not so much rose as wreath. 196 — Herrick When All the World is Young w HEN all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are green, And every goose a swan, lad, and ev'ry lass a queen; Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and ride the world away, Young blood must have its course, hid, and ev'ry dog his day. When all the world is old, lad, and all the trees are brown, And all the sport is stale, lad, and all the wheels rundown; IN/'' M^- Creep home, and take thy place there, thy fk^^^ ^ early friends among, Lr^ God grant you find one face there, you loved when all was young. l^^jfSJ^/^^^ ^Kingsley A Tr* X \ X s The Young Mans Song I whispered 'I am too young,' And then, 'I am old enough,' Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love; 'Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair,' Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair. Oh, love is the crooked thing. There is nobody wise enough To find out all that is in it. For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away. And the shadows eaten the moon; Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, One cannot begin it too soon. — Yeats hi % Love Notes HE nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a box-wood 11 lite. But I love him best of all. T For his song is all the joy of life, And we in the mad Spring weather, We two have listened while he sang Our hearts and lips together. -Henley o^xxx Summer and Winter OT Summer now is flushing Thy cheek, dear Lady mine, And icy Winter is freezing That little heart of thine. All this will change, believe mc, O dearest Lady mine! The Winter thy checks invading. The Summer that heart of thine. E r Love Thee? OVE thee?— so well, so tenderly Thou'rt loved, adored by me. Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty, Were worthless without thee. Though brimm'd with blessings, pure and rare. Life's cup before me lay, Unless thy love were mingled there, I'd spurn the draught away. Love thee? — so well, so tenderly Thou 'rt loved, adored by me. Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty. Were worthless without thee. Without thy smile, the monarch's lot To me were dark and lone, While, with it, even the humblest cot Were brighter than his throne. 200 ml Tsr /X/ y^ ^'^tnS /" ^ Those worlds, for which the conqueror sighs, For me would have no charms: My only world thy gentle eyes — My throne thy circling arms! Oh, yes, so well, so tenderly Thou 'rt loved, adored by me, Whole realms of light and liberty Were worthless without thee. — Moore To I LOVE you^not because your lips Are sweetly curved hke Cupid's bow; But for the words they softly frame. Tender and loving, sweet and low. I love you — not because your hand Is small and dimpled, soft and warm; But for its pressure, mute caress, I'd gladly brave Kfe's hardest storm. I love you — not because your eyes Are sparkhng, bright, or raven hue; But for your pure, unspotted soul Which looks those virgin windows through. — Baker 201 The Lover s Hour THE moon shines white Within the wood, Each leafy height A singing mood, Each branch above, O, my fair love! The pond begets Mirrored, sleeping Black silhouettes Of the willow weeping, Where the winds flower; Dream, 'tis the hour. A vast and tender Peacefulness The skies surrender In glimmering dress, A starry shrine — 'Tis the hour divine. — Verlaine. 202 Love Wakes and E'E wakes and weeps While Beauty sleeps; Oh ! for music's softest numbers To prompt a theme For Beauty's dream, Soft as the pillow of her slumbers! Through groves of palm Sigh gales of balm; Fireflies on the air are wheeling; While through the gloom Comes soft perfume, The distant beds of flowers revealing. Oh! wake and five! No dreams can give A shadowed bfiss the reaf exceffing; No fonger sfeep — From fattice peep. And fist the tafe that fove is teffing Winged Songs ^^ Y songs to thee would be bringing, Tender thought and sweetest word, Could my songs their way be winging As doth a bird. Unto thy hearth unspringing, They would fly without control, Could my songs their way be winging As doth the souL To thy heart a message singing. All love and faith, dear, to prove, Could my songs their way be winging As doth my love! — Hugo Ah. Love! AH, Love could You and I with Fate / \ Conspire, To grasp this Sorry Scheme of Things Entire, Would We not shatter it to Bits — and then Remould it Nearer to the Heart's Desire. , 204 — Fitzgerald ^ >r^« :-:^^M> / s. N 41 Nature Hath Crowned Thee NATURE hath crowned thee with her fairest crown: Men call thee beautiful in form and face, Praise thy dark eyes, thy tresses golden-brown. Thy stately height, thy figure's buoyant grace. I see these charms, but with another sight, As symbols of a charm still unexpressed; — See in their loveliness thy spirit's hght Burning through clouds, — half-hidden, half- confessed. Should I have loved thee hadst thou been less fair? Vain question! for thy beauty is thine own — Thine own — thy self: 'tis because thou art there. That all thy grace to fuller grace has grown. Thy spirit made thee beautiful, and still It moulds thy form and features to its wilL — Holmes King and Slave F in my soul, dear, An omen should dwell. Bidding nie pause, ere I love thee too well; If the whole circle Of noble and wise, With stern forebodings, Between us should rise; — I will tell them, dear, That Love reigns — a King, Where storms cannot reach him, And words cannot sting; He counts it dishonour His faith to recall; He trusts;— and forever He gives — and gives all! I will tell thee, dear, That Love is — a Slave, 206 y ^ X. m Who dreads thought of freedom, As life dreads the grave; And if doubt or peril Of change there may be, Such fear would but drive him Still nearer to thee! She Is Not Fair HE is not fair to outward view As many maidens be; er loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. Oh then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love, a spring of hght. But now her looks are coy and cold. To mine they ne'er reply. And yet I cease not to behold The love-Iight in her eye: Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are. ■Procter y W^ Coleridge ^y^i\^ ^ pm^ x^^ O From Hiawatha NAWAY! A^Yake, beloved! Thou the wild-flower of the forest! Thou the wild-bird of the prairie! Thou w4th eyes so soft and fawn-like! If thou only lookest at me, I am happy, I am happy. As the lilies of the prairie, When they feel the dew upon them ! Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine. In the Moon when nights are brightest! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers. I myself, myself! behold me! Blood of my beating heart, behold me! O awake, awake, beloved! Onaway! awake, beloved! _i^„^^j,n^,^ \ V V p 'rT^j i Because You Love Me BECAUSE you love me, I have found New joys that were not mine before; New stars that lightened up my sky With glories growing more and more. Because you love me I can rise To the heights of fame and realms of power; Because you love me I may learn The highest use of every hour. Because you love mc I can choose To look through your dear eyes and see Beyond the beauty of the Now Far onward to Eternity. Because you love me I can wait With perfect patience well possessed; Because you love me, all my life Is circled with unquestioned rest; Yes, even Life and even Death Is all unquestioned and all blest. 209 / Waited Till the Twilight I WAITED till the twilight, And yet he did not come; I strayed along the brookside, And slowly wandered home; When who should come behind me, But him I would have chid; He said he came to find me — Do you really think he did? He said since last we parted. He'd thought of naught so sweet, As of this very moment, — The moment we should meet. He showed me where, half-shaded, A cottage home lay hid, He said for me he'd made it — Do you really think he did? He said when first he saw me, Life seemed at once divine. V ^r-% w:^Sf^M y j^A Each night he dreamed of angels, And every face was mine; Sometimes a voice in sleeping Would all his hopes forbid; And then he'd waken weeping — Do you really think he did? Twin Stars TWIN stars, aloft in ether clear. Around each other roll away. Within one common atmosphere Of their own mutual hght and day. And myriad happy eyes are bent Upon their changeless love alway; As strengthened by their one intent. They pour the flood of hfe and day. So we, through this world's waning night, ShaK, hand in hand, pursue our way; Shed round us order, love, and light. And shine unto the perfect day. f^^^^A^^ ^ / When Shall We Meet Again .' WHEN shall we meet again Dearest and best? Thou going Eastward, and I going West. Thou in whose love my heart Seeks for its rest; When shall we meet again, Dearest and best? Not in love's common way Was my love spoken ^ — No sweet confession made Sealed by sweet token: Calmly I uttered it Though half heart-broken; Not in love's common way Was my love spoken. 212 rj^^ /. What will its issue be? Cloud-shadows fall — All is uncertainty — Yet over all One guideth steadily Great things and small What will the issue be? God guideth all. ■Clarke W/i X Three Words w 'HEN, in that time and place, I spoke to her. Requiring, tho' I knew it was mine own. Yet for the pleasure that I took to hear. Requiring at her hand the greatest gift, A woman's heart, the heart of her I loved; And in that time and place she answered me; And in the compass of three little words, More musical than ever came in one, The silver fragments of a broken voice, Made me most happy, faltering," I am thine." 213 — Tennyson Son^ B k : ELI EVE me, if all those endearing i/\ , young charms, y ..v^ "V..-^* ^ ^ * • " * A? •^