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June Night
Oh Earth, you are too dear to-night,How can I sleep while all aroundFloats rainy fragrance and the farDeep voice of the ocean that talks to the ground?Oh Earth, you gave me all I have,I love you, I love you, oh what have IThat I can give you in returnExcept my body after I die?
Sara Teasdale
Lady Mine
Lady mine, most fair thou art With youth's gold and white and red;'Tis a pity that thy heart Is so much harder than thy head.This has stayed my kisses oft, This from all thy charms debarr'd,That thy head is strangely soft, While thy heart is strangely hard.Nothing had kept us apart, I had loved thee, I had wed,Hadst thou had a softer heart Or a harder head.But I think I'll bear Love's smart Till the wound has healed and fled,Or thy head is like thy heart, Or thy heart is like thy head.
H. E. Clarke
Love
For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2:8.Christ might have called the angels downTo bear him safe above,To shield his brow from sorrow's crown,From death's cold blight, and bitter frown,Had it not been for love.Our glorious King, our Prince of Peace,Has left his throne aboveTo give our souls from sin release,To make our pain and anguish cease,And all because of love.By faith in him, we all may seeIn realms of light above,Through streams of blood on Calvary,A joyful immortality;The purchase price was love.
Nancy Campbell Glass
The Dream.
It was the morning; through the shutters closed, Along the balcony, the earliest rays Of sunlight my dark room were entering; When, at the time that sleep upon our eyes Its softest and most grateful shadows casts, There stood beside me, looking in my face, The image dear of her, who taught me first To love, then left me to lament her loss. To me she seemed not dead, but sad, with such A countenance as the unhappy wear. Her right hand near my head she sighing placed; "Dost thou still live," she said to me, "and dost Thou still remember what we were and are?" And I replied: "Whence comest thou, and how, Beloved and beautiful? Oh how, how I Have grieved, still grieve for thee! Nor did I think...
Giacomo Leopardi
A Song of Love.
"Hey, rose, just bornTwin to a thorn;Was't so with you, O Love and Scorn?"Sweet eyes that smiled,Now wet and wild;O Eye and Tear - mother and child."Well: Love and PainBe kinsfolk twain:Yet would, Oh would I could love again."
Sidney Lanier
Loveliness
How good it is, when overwrought,To seek the woods and find a thought,That to the soul's attentive senseDelivers much in evidenceOf truths for which man long has soughtTruths, which no vulture years contriveTo rob the heart of, holding itTo all the glory infiniteOf beauty that shall aye survive.Still shall it lure us. Year by yearAddressing now the spirit earWith thoughts, and now the spirit eyeWith visions that like gods go by,Filling the mind with bliss and fearIn spite of modern man who mocksThe Loveliness of old, nor mindsThe ancient myths, gone with the winds,And dreams that people woods and rocks.
Madison Julius Cawein
Heaven Is But The Hour
Eyes wide for wisdom, calm for joy or pain,Bright hair alloyed with silver, scarcely gold.And gracious lips flower pressed like buds to holdThe guarded heart against excess of rain.Hands spirit tipped through which a genius playsWith paints and clays,And strings in many keys -Clothed in an aura of thought as soundless as a floodOf sun-shine where there is no breeze.So is it light in spite of rhythm of blood,Or turn of head, or hands that move, unite -Wind cannot dim or agitate the light.From Plato's idea stepping, wholly wroughtFrom Plato's dream, made manifest in hair,Eyes, lips and hands and voice,As if the stored up thoughtFrom the earth sphereHad given down the being of your choiceConjured by the dream long sought. ...
Edgar Lee Masters
New Love And Old
In my heart the old loveStruggled with the new;It was ghostly wakingAll night through.Dear things, kind things,That my old love said,Ranged themselves reproachfullyRound my bed.But I could not heed them,For I seemed to seeThe eyes of my new loveFixed on me.Old love, old love,How can I be true?Shall I be faithless to myselfOr to you?
Earths Immortalities
FameSee, as the prettiest graves will do in time,Our poets wants the freshness of its prime;Spite of the sextons browsing horse, the sodsHave struggled thro its binding osier-rods;Headstone and half-sunk footstone lean awry,Wanting the brick-work promised by-and-by;How the minute grey lichens, plate oer plate,Have softened down the crisp-cut name and date!LoveSo, the years done with(Love me for ever!)All March begun with,Aprils endeavour;May-wreaths that bound meJune needs must sever;Now snows fall round me,Quenching Junes fever,(Love me for ever!)
Robert Browning
To a Pansy-Violet
Found Solitary Among the Hills.I.O pansy-violet,With early April wet,How frail and pure you lookLost in this glow-worm nookOf heaven-holding hills:Down which the hurrying rillsFling scrolls of melodies:O'er which the birds and beesWeave gossamers of song,Invisible, but strong:Sweet music webs they spinTo snare the spirit in.II.O pansy-violet,Unto your face I setMy lips, and - do you speak?Or is it but some freakOf fancy, love impartsThrough you unto the heart'sDesire? whispering lowA secret none may know,But such as sit and dreamBy forest-side and stream.III.O pansy-violet,O darling floweret,Hued like the timid gem...
At Last.
Many have sung of love a root of bane:While to my mind a root of balm it is,For love at length breeds love; sufficient blissFor life and death and rising up again.Surely when light of Heaven makes all things plain,Love will grow plain with all its mysteries;Nor shall we need to fetch from over seasWisdom or wealth or pleasure safe from pain.Love in our borders, love within our heart,Love all in all, we then shall bide at rest,Ended for ever life's unending quest,Ended for ever effort, change and fear:Love all in all; - no more that better partPurchased, but at the cost of all things here.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
To the Rev. George Coleridge
A blesséd lot hath he, who having passedHis youth and early manhood in the stirAnd turmoil of the world, retreats at length,With cares that move, not agitate the heart,To the same dwelling where his father dwelt;And haply views his tottering little onesEmbrace those agéd knees and climb that lap,On which first kneeling his own infancyLisp'd its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend!Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy.At distance did ye climb Life's upland road,Yet cheered and cheering: now fraternal loveHath drawn you to one centre. Be your daysHoly, and blest and blessing may ye live!To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispens'dA different fortune and more different mindMe from the spot where first I sprang to lightToo soon trans...
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Eve's Flowers
Eve must have wept to leave her flowers,And plucked some roots to tellOf Eden's happy, sinless bowers,Where she in bliss did dwell.Roses and lilies, pansies gay,Violets with azure eyes,Her favorites must have been, for theySeem born in paradise.And when they drooped, did she not sighAnd kiss their petals fair,Thinking, "Alas, ye too must dieAnd in our sorrow share"?And then perhaps unto her soulThis answer sweet was given,"Like you we fade and perish here;For you we'll bloom in heaven."Roses and lilies are the typeOf him who from above,The lamb of God, gave up his life,A sacrifice of love.He was her hope in those sad hoursOf blight and sure decay;The sin that drove her from her f...
The Maiden Speaks.
How grave thou loookest, loved one! wherefore so?Thy marble image seems a type of thee;Like it, no sign of life thou giv'st to me;Compared with thee, the stone appears to glow.Behind his shield in ambush lurks the foe,The friend's brow all-unruffled we should see.I seek thee, but thou seek'st away to flee;Fix'd as this sculptured figure, learn to grow!Tell me, to which should I the preference pay?Must I from both with coldness meet alone?The one is lifeless, thou with life art blest.In short, no longer to throw words away,I'll fondy kiss and kiss and kiss this stone,Till thou dost tear me hence with envious breast.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A Prayer For My Daughter
Once more the storm is howling, and half hidUnder this cradle-hood and coverlidMy child sleeps on. There is no obstacleBut Gregory's wood and one bare hillWhereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;And for an hour I have walked and prayedBecause of the great gloom that is in my mind.I have walked and prayed for this young child an hourAnd heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,And-under the arches of the bridge, and screamIn the elms above the flooded stream;Imagining in excited reverieThat the future years had come,Dancing to a frenzied drum,Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.May she be granted beauty and yet notBeauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,Or hers before a looking-glass...
William Butler Yeats
Farewells
They are so sad to say: no poem tellsThe agony of hearts that dwellsIn lone and last farewells.They are like deaths: they bring a wintry chillTo summer's roses, and to summer's rill;And yet we breathe them still.For pure as altar-lights hearts pass away;Hearts! we said to them, "Stay with us! stay!"And they said, sighing as they said it, "Nay."The sunniest days are shortest; darkness tellsThe starless story of the night that dwellsIn lone and last farewells.Two faces meet here, there, or anywhere:Each wears the thoughts the other face may wear;Their hearts may break, breathing, "Farewell fore'er."
Abram Joseph Ryan
Félise
Mais où sont les neiges dantan?What shall be said between us hereAmong the downs, between the trees,In fields that knew our feet last year,In sight of quiet sands and seas,This year, Félise?Who knows what word were best to say?For last years leaves lie dead and redOn this sweet day, in this green May,And barren corn makes bitter bread.What shall be said?Here as last year the fields begin,A fire of flowers and glowing grass;The old fields we laughed and lingered in,Seeing each our souls in last years glass,Félise, alas!Shall we not laugh, shall we not weep,Not we, though this be as it is?For love awake or love asleepEnds in a laugh, a dream, a kiss,A song like this.I tha...
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Evening Solace.
The human heart has hidden treasures,In secret kept, in silence sealed;The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,Whose charms were broken if revealed.And days may pass in gay confusion,And nights in rosy riot fly,While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,The memory of the Past may die.But there are hours of lonely musing,Such as in evening silence come,When, soft as birds their pinions closing,The heart's best feelings gather home.Then in our souls there seems to languishA tender grief that is not woe;And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguishNow cause but some mild tears to flow.And feelings, once as strong as passions,Float softly back, a faded dream;Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,The tale...
Charlotte Bronte