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To A Golden Heart That He Wore Round His Neck.
Oh thou token loved of joys now perish'dThat I still wear from my neck suspended,Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd?Or canst thou prolong love's days untimely ended?Lily, I fly from thee! I still am doom'd to rangeThro' countries strange,Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee!Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fallSo soon away from me!As when a bird bath broken from his thrall,And seeks the forest green,Proof of imprisonment he bears behind him,A morsel of the thread once used to bind him;The free-born bird of old no more is seen,For he another's prey bath been.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Years Ago.
Near the banks of that lone river, Where the water-lilies grow,Breathed the fairest flower that ever Bloomed and faded years ago.Now we met and loved and parted, None on earth can ever know--Nor how pure and gentle-hearted Beamed the mourned one years ago!Like the stream with lilies laden, Will life's future current flow,Till in heaven I meet the maiden Fondly cherished years ago.Hearts that love like mine forget not; They're the same in weal or wo;And that star of memory set not In the grave of years ago.
George Pope Morris
Love Thee, Dearest!
Love thee, dearest?--Hear me.--NeverWill my fond vows be forgot!May I perish, and for ever,When, dear maid, I love thee not!Turn not from me, dearest!--Listen!Banish all thy doubts and fears!Let thine eyes with transport glisten!What hast thou to do with tears?Dry them, dearest!--Ah, believe me,Love's bright flame is burning still!Though the hollow world deceive thee,Here's a heart that never will!Dost thou smile?--A cloud of sorrowBreaks before Joy's rising sun!Wilt thou give thy hand?--To-morrow,Hymen's bond will make us one!
To Sophia [Miss Stacey].
1.Thou art fair, and few are fairerOf the Nymphs of earth or ocean;They are robes that fit the wearer -Those soft limbs of thine, whose motionEver falls and shifts and glancesAs the life within them dances.2.Thy deep eyes, a double Planet,Gaze the wisest into madnessWith soft clear fire, - the winds that fan itAre those thoughts of tender gladnessWhich, like zephyrs on the billow,Make thy gentle soul their pillow.3.If, whatever face thou paintestIn those eyes, grows pale with pleasure,If the fainting soul is faintestWhen it hears thy harp's wild measure,Wonder not that when thou speakestOf the weak my heart is weakest.4.As dew beneath the wind of morning,As the sea which whirlwinds wak...
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Gifts
Gifts of one who loved me,--'T was high time they came;When he ceased to love me,Time they stopped for shame.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
At the Opera
The curtain rose, the play began,The limelight on the gay garbs shone;Yet carelessly I gazed uponThe painted players, maid and man,As one with idle eyes who seesThe marble figures on a frieze.Long lark-notes clear the first act close,So the soprano: then a hush,The tenor, tender as a thrush;Then loud and high the chorus rose,Till, with a sudden rush and strong,It ended in a storm of song.The curtain fell, the music died,The lights grew bright, revealing thereThe flash of jewelled fingers fair,And wreaths of pearls on brows of pride;Then, with a quick-flushed cheek, I turned,And into mine her dark eyes burned.Such eyes but once a man may see,And, seeing once, his fancy diesTo thought of any other eyes:
Victor James Daley
Dora.
A waxing moon that, crescent yet,In all its silver beauty set,And rose no more in the lonesome nightTo shed full-orbed its longed-for light.Then was it dark; on wold and lea, In home, in heart, the hours were drear.Father and mother could no light see, And the hearts trembled and there was fear.- So on the mount, Christ's chosen three,Unware that glory it did shroud,Feared when they entered into the cloud.She was the best part of love's fairAdornment, life's God-given care,As if He bade them guard His own,Who should be soon anear His throne.Dutiful, happy, and who sayWhen childhood smiles itself away,'More fair than morn shall prove the day.'Sweet souls so nigh to God that rest,How shall be bettering of your best!<...
Jean Ingelow
Comrades
LifeYou have been good to me....You have not made yourself too dearto juggle with.
Lola Ridge
Nay, not To-night
Nay, not to-night; - the slow, sad rain is fallingSorrowful tears, beneath a grieving sky,Far off a famished jackal, faintly calling,Renders the dusk more lonely with its cry.The mighty river rushes, sobbing, seawards,The shadows shelter faint mysterious fears,I turn mine eyes for consolation theewards,And find thy lashes tremulous with tears.If some new soul, asearch for incarnation,Should, through our kisses, enter Life again,It would inherit all our desolation,All the soft sorrow of the slanting rain.When thou desirest Love's supreme surrender,Come while the morning revels in the light,Bulbuls around us, passionately tender,Singing among the roses red and white.Thus, if it be my sweet and sacred duty,Subservient...
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
To A Highland Girl (At Inversneyde, Upon Loch Lomond)
Sweet Highland Girl, a very showerOf beauty is thy earthly dower!Twice seven consenting years have shedTheir utmost bounty on thy head:And these grey rocks; that household lawn;Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;This fall of water that doth makeA murmur near the silent lake;This little bay; a quiet roadThat holds in shelter thy AbodeIn truth together do ye seemLike something fashioned in a dream;Such Forms as from their covert peepWhen earthly cares are laid asleep!But, O fair Creature! in the lightOf common day, so heavenly bright,I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,I bless thee with a human heart;God shield thee to thy latest years!Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;And yet my eyes are filled with tears....
William Wordsworth
To The Beloved
Oh, not more subtly silence strays Amongst the winds, between the voices,Mingling alike with pensive lays, And with the music that rejoices,Than thou art present in my days.My silence, life returns to thee In all the pauses of her breath.Hush back to rest the melody That out of thee awakeneth;And thou, wake ever, wake for me.Full, full is life in hidden places, For thou art silence unto me.Full, full is thought in endless spaces. Full is my life. A silent seaLies round all shores with long embraces.Thou art like silence all unvexed Though wild words part my soul from thee.Thou art like silence unperplexed, A secret and a mysteryBetween one footfall and the next.Most dear...
Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell
The Only Daughter
Illustration Of A PictureThey bid me strike the idle strings,As if my summer daysHad shaken sunbeams from their wingsTo warm my autumn lays;They bring to me their painted urn,As if it were not timeTo lift my gauntlet and to spurnThe lists of boyish rhyme;And were it not that I have stillSome weakness in my heartThat clings around my stronger willAnd pleads for gentler art,Perchance I had not turned awayThe thoughts grown tame with toil,To cheat this lone and pallid ray,That wastes the midnight oil.Alas! with every year I feelSome roses leave my brow;Too young for wisdom's tardy seal,Too old for garlands now.Yet, while the dewy breath of springSteals o'er the tingling air,And spreads and fans...
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Security
Though her eye seek other formsAnd a glad delight below,Yet the love the world that warmsBids for me her bosom glow.She must love me till she findAnother heart as large and true.Her soul is frank as the ocean wind,And the world has only two.If Nature hold another heartThat knows a purer flame than me,I too therein could challenge partAnd learn of love a new degree.
The Heart's Own Day
This is the heart's own day:With dreaming eyesLife seems to look awayBeyond the skiesInto some long-gone May.A May that can not die;Across whose hillsYouth's heart goes singing by,'Mid daffodils,With Love the young and shy.Love of the slender formAnd elvish face;Who with uplifted armPoints to one placeA place of oldtime charm.Where once the lilies grewFor Love to twine,With violets, white and blue,And columbine,Of gold and crimson hue.Gone is the long-ago;Gone like the wind;And Love we used to knowSits dumb and blind,With locks of winter snow.And by him MemorySits sketching backInto the used-to-be,In white and black,One flower on his knee...
Madison Julius Cawein
Samuel.
In Bible times so long ago, And in a far-off city, too,A mother watched her only child As he in strength and beauty grew.And when his little tottering feet Had scarcely learned to go alone,--Before his baby voice could speak Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,--She took her boy and travelled on, Away from home, for many a mile,That with a good and holy man Her darling son might live a while;That he might learn about the God Who made the earth and sea and sky;And then she left him there and turned Back to her home, with many a sigh.She could not place him on her knee And tell him he was very dear;And so she made a little coat And brought it to him every year.But...
H. P. Nichols
Dost Thou Not Care?
I love and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart To love and not to love.Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart Into Thy shrine, which is above,Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care For this mine ill? -I love thee here or there, I will accept thy broken heart, lie still.Lord, it was well with me in time gone by That cometh not again,When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I? I fresh, I cheerful: worn with painNow, out of sight and out of heart; O Lord, how long? -I watch thee as thou art, I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong.'Lie still,' 'be strong,' to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow, What of to-morrow, Lord?Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, Be living gr...
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Young Love
Young love, all rainbows in the lane, Brushed by the honeysuckle vines,Scattered the wild rose in a dream: A sweeter thing his arm entwines.Ah, redder lips than any rose! Ah, sweeter breath than any beeSucks from the heart of any flower; Ah, bosom like the Summer sea!A fairy creature made of dew And moonrise and the songs of birds,And laughter like the running brook, And little soft, heart-broken words.Haunted as marble in the moon, Her whiteness lies on young love's breast.And living frankincense and myrrh Her lips that on his lips are pressed.Her eyes are lost within his eyes, His eyes in hers are fathoms deep;Death is not stiller than these twain That smile as in a magic...
Richard Le Gallienne
Love's Exchange
Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place,It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea's face;To mark the lights and shadows flit Across the silver moon of it.I have no other merchandise, No stocks or shares,No other gold but just what liesIn those deep eyes of hers;And, sure, if all the world were wise,It too would bank within her eyes.I buy up all her smiles all day With all my love,And sell them back, cost-price, or, say, A kiss or two above;It is a speculation fine,The profit must be always mine.The world has many things, 'tis true, To fill its time,Far more important things to do Than making love and rhyme;Yet, if it asked me to advise,I'd say - buy up...