THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE BOOK OF LOVE BY BLANCHE SHOEMAKER WAGSTAFF ATYS THE BOOK OF LOVE WOVEN IN DREAMS THE SONG OF YOUTH THE BOOK OF LOVE BY BLANCHE SHOEMAKER WAGSTAFP COPYRIGHT 1917 BY MITCHELL KENNERLEY PRINTED IN AMERICA "I have attained to look on the beqinnina of Peace." DANTE. "Where thou goest I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people; thy God, my God." RUTH. "For one soul is living in two bodies." MICHELANGELO. 62S033 THE BOOK OF LOVE "JV/fY heart exults with the Spring. The glow- ing essences of earth infuse me. I am enveloped in celestial harmony. I hear no longer the discords of terrestrial life. I am in tune with all the Universe. No wind of God has the glory of my soul ! No sea-melody has the choristry of my heart. The flaming wings of the sun are mine. The laughter of birds is my chant of glad ness. I am upborne upon the luminant banners of the dawn. The song of the spring-pulsed birds is the song of my being. The blithe clouds mirror my joy. I am liberated in loveliness. Beatitude crowns me, and the serene kisses of the stars. I am incorporate with all beauty. I am immortal. I love. The Book of Love TT7"HAT hush is this upon my soul? What gladness is this crowning me? . . . O, the eyes of my Beloved are the sea pools of the South ! O, the hands of my Beloved are white roses in the wind! O, the hair of my Beloved is tawny as the autumn sun! O, the cheek of my Beloved is like sudden blossoms after rain! O, the mouth of my Beloved is like the fruit of June! O, the teeth of my Beloved are golden as fresh wheat! O, the breast of my Beloved is whiter than falling snowflakes. O, the throat of my Beloved is fairer than amorous doves in flight. O, the body of my Beloved is like a reed of hyacinth. The Book of Love T WALK alone and cry out under the stars. As one in a desert I hunger for refreshment. I have need of the coolness of some azure pool. O, I would anoint my bosom with the clear water! O, I would immerse myself in the emulous depths ! O, I would drink of ineffable dreams. You, Beloved, are the silvery lake shimmer ing in the desert of my youth. You only can allay the fever of my spirit ! On your lips I shall drain the fountain of life. On your white breast I shall breathe the per fume of numberless lilies. Therein I shall die a thousand deaths and arise reborn in the awful splendor of your love. . . . The Book of Love AY your hands, softer than dove's wings, ^ in my hands so I may feel your young life flowing into mine thro' your finger-tips. Lay your eyes upon my eyes that I may grow tremulous beneath the flutter of your eyelids. Lay your heart against my heart that I may hear your love summoning me to forgetfulness. Lay your tresses about me that I may feel their warm sun streaming thro' my veins. Lay your mouth on my mouth until all dis solves in mist about me. . . . (Is it life? Is it death?) The Book of Love are as a million birds that sing unto my heart, O, Beloved. Thro' the long nights I hear the chanting of blithe voices. What divine minstrelsy! What ravish ment. . . . Is this multitudinous melody the rapture of your kiss? Come to me, press upon my brow the cool ness of your young lips that I may hear the thunder of your love in the night. . . . The Book of Love \\7 HEN will it end, the long vigil. . . . What dawn will bring you forever unto me, O, my Beloved? Life is but shadow. Only you, my Beloved, are more real than shadow. Beneath your caresses I am as one awakened unto life. Your finger-tips bear presage of divinity. Your heart-beats are a threnody sublime. O, Beloved, you are as a white nenuphar lifting its snowy breast on a stream. In your bosom are all the treasures of Elysium. The scent of your skin is like jasmine and honey suckle. Why is such loveliness withheld from me, O, Beloved? When can I look upon you and say: "Be hold! all this beauty is mine forever." When will it end, the long vigil. . . . The Book of Love r\ MIRACLE of love! ^'S You whom I adore unto delirium, Your arms are white lilies upon my bosom. Stars encircle me when your lips lean down to mine. There is the sound of many waters falling. There is the murmur of a million nightingales, and the flash of brilliant light ning. Caress celestial! Moon-path of my dreams! O, miracle of Love my divinity and my crucifixion. . . The Book of Love T N the presence of my Beloved I am as one * sanctified. He is the chrism wherein I am cleansed and hallowed. Looking upon him my spirit swells with joy. To die for him! To fill myself with his incomparable beauty. To bathe in the libation of his tears. To kiss his feet in silent rapture. Multiple is his loveliness. Hearing his voice, I am transported with delight. He is my shrine; he sheds upon me the in effable splendor of eternity. Together our two spirits are touched by the wing-tips of the Infinite. . . . The Book of Love HEN the young moon silvers the sky, the earth is ours. We shall go into the forest and wander in the shadow of the pines. I shall cover you with leaves, and we shall lie on the soft moss entwined like sisters. And all the while I will know that the fra grance of your skin is sweeter to me than the perfume of a million roses. . . . io The Book of Love T ET me enfold you in my hair. ' Let me wind you as in a golden skein. Give me the curve of your throat, milky white and rose, that I may place about it the glossy fillets of my hair. Don it as a shining mantilla. . . . Let my hair shower about you until you are radiant with perfume; Let it ripple over you like the wind on sum mer wheat. Then give me your lips that we may stand united beneath the downpour of its sunlight. Let us be intermingled as two trees that have but one single root. . . . The Book of Love II T TREMBLE at the sight of my Beloved. ^ For he is the handicraft of god. He is the miracle of all beauty which is love. To look upon him is to be blest. To hear his voice is to be transported unto beatitude. Wherefore do I desire the happiness of my Beloved more than my own? . . . The Book of Love 13 TELL me that all your beauty is for me alone. I gaze upon you, white as a pillar of ivory, your limbs supple and firm, your arms moulded like April lilies, your feet fragrant and cool like a curved shell, your lips like ripe fruit. Tell me that all this beauty is for me alone ! Your laughter like the warbling of birds, your hair like the tawny meadow grasses, your glorious youth golden as honeycomb. Tell me that all this beauty is for me alone. 14 The Book of Love * I A O love you like the midnight storm ! To take you swooning unto death as the wind sweeps the waves in tempest! To transport you unto delirium ! To hear the wild beating of your veins; to feel flame shuddering your blood and to agon ize you with my ardor. To crush you as a flower upon my breast, To bear you away to some secret valley where I would love you unto insensibility. . . . The Book of Love 15 to me, Beloved. We will go to the meadows and lie beneath the willow trees. We will eat of honey like the bees and hunt for humming birds in the sunlight. I will make for you a crown of daisies; I will strew at your feet asphodel and roses. Come to me, Beloved. . . . We will go to the meadows and walk beside a shimmering stream; we will bathe in the amber water. I will take you shivering into the cool eddies of a shadowy pool; I will lave your body with the sparkling drops; they will fall upon you like bright diamonds. And your thighs will be a white birch rising out of the dark waters. Come to me, Beloved. . . . We will walk amid the swirling currents of the stream and my kisses will be the wind upon your bosom, shining in the midday sun light. . . . 1 6 The Book of Love LOSE your eyes upon the world, Beloved ! I would have you blind unto all things save my love. I would have you no longer possess any image but mine. I would have you live only within the radi ance of my smile. I would have you seal me within the sanc tuary of your heart where we would dwell inviolate together. I would have you surrounded by an intermi nable darkness, lit only by the moonstar of my love! I would then be no longer jealous of your thoughts, of your silence, of the rose you hold in your hand, of the bird you watch soaring into the sky. . . . Be blind to all that is not our love ! Close your eyes upon the world, Beloved ! Together we shall pass into the interminable night. . . . The Book of Love 17 T F I think of you, I quiver from head to foot. If I think of you tears flood my eyes. If I pass you my heart quickens to suffocation and the blood seems to leave my body. If I look into your eyes a sudden fire burns in my veins. If I touch you I am as one possessed with madness ; my arms tremble and my limbs totter beneath me. To love you is to suffer the pangs of an intolerable agony. 1 8 The Book of Love T OVE me, O Beloved; not with laughter, * ' song or flowers, but with your silence and your tears. . . . Let me respire the beauty of this immortal moment. Lie in my arms as a child in the arms of a mother. Be not afraid; tremble not beneath my caresses. Let my tenderness penetrate you like the aroma of honeysuckle. Love me not with laughter, song or flowers, but with your silence and your tears. The Book of Love 19 T IFE, I laugh at you, for have I not the lips *-' of my Beloved? Sorrow, I am unafraid of you, for have I not the dove-soft bosom of my Beloved? Death, I welcome you, for have I not the warm arms of my Beloved? Visit me, Death! Have I not the caresses of my Beloved? I drink upon his lips the coolness of the stars. I breathe eternal beauty at the fount of his love. Pass, Life, pass. . . . (Death, I defy you, for have I not the kisses of my Beloved?) 2O The Book of Love ~D ELOVED, tell me something you have *-* never told another. Let us go before the white throne of the stars and open each to the other the innermost story of our hearts. I will lie at your feet, my eyes mirrored in your eyes. I will gaze into the secret recesses of your being as in the deep crystal of a shining pool. And you will reveal to me some secret you would deny your God. . . . I will hear from your lips what you have never dared to tell another. The Book of Love 21 T T is night and I am alone. There is nothing but the moaning of the wind in the lattice. . . . When will be poured for me the living gob let of your mouth wherein I shall drink your soul, sweeter to me than the waters of a sum mer pool? It is cold. When will be given me the warm light of your eyes, the mother-of-pearl lamp like a moon hung in the Heavens of our love? The wind cries and I am alone. . . . (Beloved, why do you not come to me?) 22 The Book of Love T\ARKNESS. ^-^ Silence that weeps in my heart. Ashes on my hearth and the cry of a lonely bird at the window. The trees that shiver in the wind. Darkness. And youth passing by . . . To listen and hear no footstep. . . . The Book of Love 23 r I A HERE are no words that can express our * love, O, my Beloved. There is no beauty to proclaim its awful joy. There are no songs tender enough to reveal its sorrow. For I have respired you like a wild rose, O, my Beloved. I have drunk of you as of some cool well- water. I have clasped you about me like a circlet of flowers. I have knelt before you, my hands in your hands, my temples beating against your temples. And with silence I have told you of my ado ration. 24 The Book of Love OLEEP, Beloved, with my kisses still warm ^ upon your lips. Sleep, Beloved, with your white arms crossed in the candlelight. Sleep, Beloved, with the hyacinth of your breasts beside me. Sleep, Beloved, while I watch in silent won derment. Sleep, Beloved, miracle of loveliness. Sleep, Beloved, while your tranquil beauty fills me with longing. Sleep, Beloved. (Do you love me in your dreams?) The Book of Love 25 me that always you will be awaiting me in the silence. Tell me that always your love will glow like the eternal stars. Tell me that always you will thirst for my tenderness. Tell me that always you will tremble at the sound of my footfall. Tell me that always the white moon of our love will shimmer in the Heavens. Tell me that never will I seek amidst all faces for the one face that conies not. . . . 26 The Book of Love "V7"OU are as a carved vase of myrrh, my Beloved, whose sweetness I gaze upon with wonderment. When you kneel before me in supplication, your lips and eyelids quivering, you pour at my feet the ambrosia of your love. Kneel, kneel, Beloved. Nestle against me, your hair wound like ivy about my ankles your cheek against my hands. Rest, Beloved, I will respire your silent love liness. I will close your eyes with a thousand kisses. . The Book of Love 27 TXT" HERE are you when my cheeks are wan, my veins beat and my eyes burn from ceaseless weeping? Where are you when my seeking hands reach for you in the great shadows? Where are you when longing seizes me like madness and my heart flutters in my throat? Where are you when my lips cry your name in the silence? When your image possesses me like flame, where are you, O, my Beloved? . . .' 28 The Book of Love T HOLD your face between my hands shim- mering like a moonstone. Thro' my fingers filters the pure gold of your hair. I gaze upon the languor of your drooping eyes lit with fire. I touch your throat of milky whiteness. I kiss the nape of your neck, dewy and fra grant as a summer rose. As a god might fold in his arms the glory of the earth, so I hold within my hands all the wealth and splendor of the world. . . . Beloved, are you not the most wonder ful of treasures? 30 The Book of Love T SEE you coming toward me. . . . * Silently you take me in your arms. Our lips meet and our eyes close. I feel the shuddering of your breast and the beating of your throat against mine. We are enveloped in darkness. We know nothing but the thunder of our veins. . . . We are swept out unto a sea of infinite oblivion. The Book of Love 31 TT7"AS it the shimmer of death that summer ** night, or the glory of a million falling stars ? You held me sobbing in your arms. My cries were as the moaning of one dying. O Love! O Death! Majestic brothers! O pang of too much loveliness! O, fugi tive perfection! You drank my tears, Beloved. Divine unction of beauty. (Drink, Beloved, drink that we may feel again the anguish of our immeasurable love!) THE END UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. MAR18 MAR Form L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES - ;,.