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A Valentine.
My life is grown a witchcraft placeThrough gazing on thy form and face.Now 't is thy Smile's soft sorceryThat makes my soul a melody.Now 't is thy Frown, that comes and goes,That makes my heart a page of prose.Some day, perhaps, a word of thineWill change me to thy VALENTINE.
Madison Julius Cawein
Light Love
'Oh, sad thy lot before I came, But sadder when I go;My presence but a flash of flame, A transitory glow Between two barren wastes like snow.What wilt thou do when I am gone, Where wilt thou rest, my dear?For cold thy bed to rest upon, And cold the falling year Whose withered leaves are lost and sere.'She hushed the baby at her breast, She rocked it on her knee:'And I will rest my lonely rest, Warmed with the thought of thee, Rest lulled to rest by memory.'She hushed the baby with her kiss, She hushed it with her breast:'Is death so sadder much than this - Sure death that builds a nest For those who elsewhere cannot rest?''Oh, sad thy note, my mateless dove, With t...
Christina Georgina Rossetti
In The Firelight.
My dear wife sits beside the fire With folded hands and dreaming eyes,Watching the restless flames aspire, And rapt in thralling memories.I mark the fitful firelight fling Its warm caresses on her brow, And kiss her hands' unmelting snow,And glisten on her wedding-ring.The proud free head that crowns so well The neck superb, whose outlines glideInto the bosom's perfect swell Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide,The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, The gracious charm her beauty wears, Fill my fond eyes with tender tearsAs in the days of long ago.Days long ago, when in her eyes The only heaven I cared for lay,When from our thoughtless Paradise All care and toil dwelt far away;
John Hay
Vow To Venus
Happily I had a sightOf my dearest dear last night;Make her this day smile on me,And I'll roses give to thee!
Robert Herrick
A Study From The Antique.
Behold, my love, the curious gem Within this simple ring of gold;'Tis hallow'd by the touch of them Who lived in classic hours of old.Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps, Upon her hand this gem displayed,Nor thought that time's succeeding lapse Should see it grace a lovelier maid.Look, dearest, what a sweet design! The more we gaze, it charms the more;Come--closer bring that cheek to mine, And trace with me its beauties o'er.Thou seest, it is a simple youth By some enamored nymph embraced--Look, as she leans, and say in sooth Is not that hand most fondly placed?Upon his curled head behind It seems in careless play to lie,Yet presses gently, half inclined To bring the truant's ...
Thomas Moore
A Letter To His Friend Isaac. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.)
But yesterday the earth drank like a childWith eager thirst the autumn rain.Or like a wistful bride who waits the hourOf love's mysterious bliss and pain.And now the Spring is here with yearning eyes;Midst shimmering golden flower-beds,On meadows carpeted with varied hues,In richest raiment clad, she treads.She weaves a tapestry of bloom o'er all,And myriad eyed young plants upspring,White, green, or red like lips that to the mouthOf the beloved one sweetly cling.Whence come these radiant tints, these blended beams?Here's such a dazzle, such a blaze,As though each stole the splendor of the stars,Fain to eclipse them with her rays.Come! go we to the garden with our wine,Which scatters sparks of hot desire,Within our hand 't is cold, ...
Emma Lazarus
To Ianthe.
I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake;Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek,Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak,Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake;But more when o'er thy fitful slumber bendingThy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart,Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending,All that thy passive eyes can feel impart:More, when some feeble lineaments of her,Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom,As with deep love I read thy face, recur, -More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom;Dearest when most thy tender traits expressThe image of thy mother's loveliness.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
After A Reading
For the seven times seventh time love would renew the delight without end or alloyThat it takes in the praise as it takes in the presence of eyes that fulfil it with joy;But how shall it praise them and rest unrebuked by the presence and pride of the boy?Praise meet for a child is unmeet for an elder whose winters and springs are nineWhat song may have strength in its wings to expand them, or light in its eyes to shine,That shall seem not as weakness and darkness if matched with the theme I would fain make mine?The round little flower of a face that exults in the sunshine of shadowless daysDefies the delight it enkindles to sing of it aught not unfit for the praiseOf the sweetest of all things that eyes may rejoice in and tremble with love as they gaze.Such tricks and such meanings abo...
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Remembered
Here in the dusk I see her face againAs then I knew it, ere she fell asleep;Renunciation glorifying pain Of her soul's inmost deep.I shall not see its like again! the browOf passive marble, purely aureoled, -As some pale lily in the afterglow, - With supernatural gold.As if a rose should speak and, somehow heardBy some strange sense, the unembodied soundGrow visible, her mouth was as a word A sweet thought falters 'round.So do I still remember eyes imbuedWith far reflections - as the stars suggestThe silence, purity and solitude Of infinite peace and rest.She was my all. I loved her as men loveA high desire, religion, an ideal -The meaning purpose in the loss whereof God shall alone revea...
A Faun's Song.
Cool! cool! cool!Cool and sweetThe feel of the moss at my feet!And sweet and coolThe touch of the wind, of the wind!Cool wind out of the blue,At the touch of youA little wave crinkles and flowsAll over me down to my toes."Coo-loo! Coo-loo!"Hear the doves in the tree-tops croon."Coo-loo! Coo-loo!"Love comes soon."June! June!"The veery sings,Sings and sings,"June! June!"--A pretty tune!Wind with your weight of perfume,Bring me the bluebells' bloom!
Bliss Carman
Tis Sweet To Think.
'Tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear.And that, when we're far from the lips we love, We've but to make love to the lips, we are near.The heart, like a tendril, accustomed to cling, Let it grow where it will, can not flourish alone,But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing It can twine with itself and make closely its own.Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove, To be sure to find something still that is dear,And to know, when far from the lips we love, We've but to make love to the lips we are near.'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise. To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there;And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes, 'Twere a pity t...
In The Morning Of Life.
In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, And the light that surrounds us is all from within;Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy time We can love, as in hours of less transport we may;--Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime, But affection is truest when these fade away.When we see the first glory of youth pass us by, Like a leaf on the stream that will never return;When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn;Then, then is the time when affection holds sway With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew;Love, nursed among pleasures, is faith...
Life's Joys.
I have been pondering what our teachers call The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought After it's half-blind reaching out has caughtThis truth and held it fast. We may not fall Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy, Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.Sometimes they steal across us like a breath Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room, These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloomSeeking some common thing, and from its sheath Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky Like a quick flash after a heated day. A moment, where the sombrous shadows layWe see a glory. Though it passed us by No earthly power can filch that ...
Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley
The Dream of Love.
I've had the heart-ache many times,At the mere mention of a nameI've never woven in my rhymes,Though from it inspiration came.It is in truth a holy thing,Life-cherished from the world apart--A dove that never tries its wing,But broods and nestles in the heart.That name of melody recallsHer gentle look and winning waysWhose portrait hangs on memory's walls,In the fond light of other days.In the dream-land of Poetry,Reclining in its leafy bowers,Her bright eyes in the stars I see,And her sweet semblance in the flowers.Her artless dalliance and grace--The joy that lighted up her brow--The sweet expression of her face--Her form--it stands before me now!And I can fancy that I hearThe woodland songs she used ...
George Pope Morris
To M. C. N.
Thou hast no wealth, nor any pride of power,Thy life is offered on affection's altar.Small sacrifices claim thee, hour by hour,Yet on the tedious path thou dost not falter.To the unknowing, well thy days might seemCircled by solitude and tireless duty,Yet is thy soul made radiant by a dreamOf delicate and rainbow-coloured beauty.Never a flower trembles in the wind,Never a sunset lingers on the sea,But something of its fragrance joins thy mind,Some sparkle of its light remains with thee.Thus when thy spirit enters on its rest,Thy lips shall say, "I too have known the best!"
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
A Flower Given To My Daughter
Frail the white rose and frail areHer hands that gaveWhose soul is sere and palerThan time's wan wave.Rosefrail and fair, yet frailestA wonder wildIn gentle eyes thou veilest,My blueveined child.
James Joyce
To my Daughter on her Birthday.
Darling child, to thee I owe,More than others here will know;Thou hast cheered my weary days,With thy coy and winsome ways.When my heart has been most sad,Smile of thine has made me glad;In return, I wish for thee,Health and sweet felicity.May thy future days be blest,With all things the world deems best.If perchance the day should come,Thou does leave thy childhood's home;Bound by earth's most sacred ties,With responsibilities,In another's life to share,Wedded joys and worldly care;May thy partner worthy prove, -Richest in thy constant love.Strong in faith and honour, just, -With brave heart on which to trust.One, to whom when troubles come,And the days grow burdensome,Thou canst fly, with confidenceIn...
John Hartley
Lilith
Yea, there are some who always seekThe love that lasts an hour;And some who in love's language speak,Yet never know his power.Of such was I, who knew not whatSweet mysteries may riseWithin the heart when 't is its lotTo love and realize.Of such was I, ah me! till, lo,Your face on mine did gleam,And changed that world, I used to know,Into an evil dream.That world wherein, on hill and plain,Great blood-red poppies bloomed,Their hot hearts thirsty for the rain,And sleepily perfumed.Above, below, on every partA crimson shadow lay,As if the red sun streamed athwartAnd sunset was alway.I know not how, I know not when,I only know that thereShe met me in the haunted glen,A poppy in...