The Lover's Year (Moods Of Love.)

Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve,
    My Summer and my Winter, Spring and Fall;
    For Nature left on thee a touch of all
The moods that come to gladden or to grieve
The heart of Time, with purpose to relieve
    From lagging sameness. So do these forestall
    In thee such o'erheaped sweetnesses as pall
Too swiftly, and the taster tasteless leave.

Scenes that I love to me always remain
    Beautiful, whether under summer's sun
Beheld, or, storm-dark, stricken across with rain.
    So, through all humors, thou 'rt the same sweet one:
Doubt not I love thee well in each, who see
Thy constant change is changeful constancy.

George Parsons Lathrop

George Parsons Lathrop (August 25, 1851 – April 19, 1898) was an American poet, novelist, and editor. He was closely associated with the literary world of New England and was a prominent figure in the late 19th century. Lathrop was also known for his marriage to Rose Hawthorne, the daughter of famed novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, and for his efforts in editing and preserving Hawthorne's works. His contributions spanned various literary forms including poetry and prose.

George Parsons Lathrop

The Singing Wire

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

Burial-Song For Sumner.

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

Sunset And Shore

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

In Absence. (Moods Of Love.)

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

English

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The Lover's Year

Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve,
My summer and my winter, spring and fall;
For Nature left on thee a touch of all
The moods that come to gladden or to grieve
The heart of Time, with purpose to relieve
From lagging sameness. So do these forestall
In thee such o'erheaped sweetnesses as pall
Too swiftly, and the taster tasteless leave.

Scenes that I love to me always remain
Beautiful, whether under summer sun
Beheld, or, storm-dark, stricken across with rain.
So, through all humors, thou 'rt the same sweet one:
Doubt not I love thee well in each, who see
Thy constant change is changeful constancy.

George Parsons Lathrop

South-Wind Song. (Moods Of Love.)

Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease
    (Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!)
    Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed
'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these
Loth blushes faint and maidenly - rich Breeze,
    Still doth thy honeyed blowing bring a shade
    Of sad foreboding. In thy hand is laid
The power to build or blight rich fruit of trees,
The deep, cool grass, and field of thick-combed grain.

Even so my Love may bring me joy or woe,
    Both measureless, but either counted gain
Since given by her. For pain and pleasure flow
    Like tides upon us of the self-same sea.
    Tears are the gems of joy and misery!

George Parsons Lathrop

The Seasons of Love.

The spring-time of love
    Is both happy and gay,
For joy sprinkles blossoms
    And balm in our way;
The sky, earth, and ocean,
    In beauty repose,
And all the bright future
    Is COLEUR DE ROSE.

The summer of love
    Is the bloom of the heart,
When hill, grove, and valley,
    Their music impart;
And the pure glow of heaven
    Is seen in fond eyes,
As lakes show the rainbow
    That's hung in the skies.

The autumn of love
    Is the season of cheer--
Life's mild Indian summer,
    The smile of the year!
Which comes when the golden
    Ripe harvest is stored,
And yields its own blessings--
    Repose and reward.

The winter of love
    Is the beam that we win
While the storm scowls witho...

George Pope Morris

The Lover Who Thinks.

Dost thou remember, Love, those hours
Shot o'er with random rainy showers,
When the bold sun would woo coy May?
She smiled, then wept - and looked another way.

We, learning from the sun and season,
Together plotted joyous treason
'Gainst maiden majesty, to give
Each other troth, and henceforth wedded live.

But love, ah, love we know is blind!
Not always what they seek they find
When, groping through dim-lighted natures,
Fond lovers look for old, ideal statures.

What then? Is all our purpose lost?
The balance broken, since Fate tossed
Uneven weights? Oh well beware
That thought, my sweet: 't were neither fit nor fair!

Seek not for any grafted fruits
From souls so wedded at the roots;
But whatsoe'er our fibres hold,
Let tha...

George Parsons Lathrop

South-Wind

Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease
(Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!)
Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed
'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these
Loth blushes faint and maidenly: - rich breeze,
Still doth thy honeyed blowing bring a shade
Of sad foreboding. In thy hand is laid
The power to build or blight the fruit of trees,
The deep, cool grass, and field of thick-combed grain.

Even so my Love may bring me joy or woe,
Both measureless, but either counted gain
Since given by her. For pain and pleasure flow
Like tides upon us of the self-same sea.
Tears are the gems of joy and misery.

George Parsons Lathrop

Wedding-Night. (Moods Of Love.)

At night, with shaded eyes, the summer moon
    In tender meditation downward glances
    At the dark earth, far-set in dim expanses,
And, welcomer than blazoned gold of noon,
Down through the air her steady lights are strewn.
    The breezy forests sigh in moonlit trances,
    And the full-hearted poet, waking, fancies
The smiling hills will break in laughter soon.

Oh thus, thou gentle Nature, dost thou shine
    On me to-night. My very limbs would melt,
Like rugged earth beneath yon ray divine,
    Into faint semblance of what they have felt:
Thine eye doth color me, O wife, O mine,
With peace that in thy spirit long hath dwelt!

George Parsons Lathrop