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Farewell.
Fare thee well, we've no wish to detain thee,For the loved ones are bidding thee come,And, we know, a bright welcome awaits theeIn the smiles and the sunshine of home,Thou art safe on the crest of the billow,And safe in the depths of the sea;For the God we have worshipped togetherIs Almighty, and careth for thee.And when, in the home of thy fathers,Thy fervent petition shall riseFor the loved who are circling around thee,The joy and delight of thine eyes,Oh, then, for the weak and the faltering,Should a prayer, as sweet incense, ascendTo the God we have worshipped together,Remember thy far-distant friend.We miss the calm light of thy spirit,We miss thy encouraging smile;But we bless the unslumbering Shepherd...
Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney
Pleasure! why thus desert the heart
Pleasure! why thus desert the heartIn its spring-tide?I could have seen her, I could part,And but have sigh'd!O'er every youthful charm to stray,To gaze, to touch....Pleasure! why take so much away,Or give so much?
Walter Savage Landor
The Year of Love
There were four loves that one by one,Following the seasons and the sun,Passed over without tears, and fellAway without farewell.The first was made of gold and tears,The next of aspen-leaves and fears,The third of rose-boughs and rose-roots,The last love of strange fruits.These were the four loves faded. HoldSome minutes fast the time of goldWhen our lips each way clung and cloveTo a face full of love.The tears inside our eyelids met,Wrung forth with kissing, and wept wetThe faces cleaving each to eachWhere the blood served for speech.The second, with low patient browsBound under aspen-coloured boughsAnd eyes made strong and grave with sleepAnd yet too weak to weepThe third, with eager mouth...
Algernon Charles Swinburne
To Love.
I'm free from thee; and thou no more shalt hearMy puling pipe to beat against thine ear.Farewell my shackles, though of pearl they be;Such precious thraldom ne'er shall fetter me.He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke,Submits his neck unto a second yoke.
Robert Herrick
Psyche, Before The Tribunal Of Venus.
Lift up thine eyes, sweet Psyche! What is sheThat those soft fringes timidly should fallBefore her, and thy spiritual browBe shadowed as her presence were a cloud?A loftier gift is thine than she can give -That queen of beauty. She may mould the browTo perfectness, and give unto the formA beautiful proportion; she may stainThe eye with a celestial blue - the cheekWith carmine of the sunset; she may breatheGrace into every motion, like the playOf the least visible tissue of a cloud;She may give all that is within her ownBright cestus - and one silent look of thine,Like stronger magic, will outcharm it all.Ay, for the soul is better than its frame,The spirit than its temple. What's the brow,Or the eye's lustre, or the step of air,
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Song
What shall a man rememberIn days when he is old,And Life is a dying ember,And Fame a story told?Power, that came to leave him?Wealth, to the wild waves blown?Fame, that came to deceive him?Ah, no! Sweet Love alone!Honour, and Wealth, and PowerMay all like dreams depart,But Love is a fadeless flowerWhose roots are in the heart.
Victor James Daley
Only Thine.
I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that thou art fair;And lovelier than the orange-flowers That bind thy glossy hair:That thou hast every gentle grace Which nature can design--I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that I am thine: Yes, thine, my love, I'm thine, my love, Thine, thine, and only thine.I know that thou art true, my love, And welcome as the breezeWhich comes, with healing on its wings, Across the summer seas:That thou hast every winning charm Which culture may refine--I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that I am thine. Yes, thine, my love, I'm thine, my love, Thine, thine, and only thine.
George Pope Morris
Sonnet: - I.
My soul goes out to meet her, and my heartFlings wide the portals of its love, and yearnsTo have her enter its serene retreat.A poor stray lamb, not wand'ring from the fold,But all unstudied in the worldling's art,Turning life's mintage into seeming gold,Wherewith to purchase love and love's returns;Unknowing that love's waters, though so sweet,Lead to some bitter Marah. So my soulGoes out to meet her, and it clasps her home,And seeks to bear her upward to the goalAt which the righteous enter. From the domeOf starriest Night two blest Immortals come,To bear us spheral-ward to God's own mercy-seat.
Charles Sangster
Laudamus
The Lord shall slay or the Lord shall save!He is righteous whether He save or slay,Brother, give thanks for the gifts He gave,Though the gifts He gave He hath taken away.Shall we strive for that which is nothing? Nay.Shall we hate each other for that which fled?She is but a marvel of modelled clay,And the smooth, clear white, and the soft, pure red,That we coveted, shall endure no day.Was it wise or well that I hated youFor the fruit that hung too high on the tree?For the blossom out of our reach that grew,Was it well or wise that you hated me?My hate has flown, and your hate shall flee.Let us veil our faces like children chid,Can that violet orb we swore by seeThrough that violet-veind, transparent lid?Now the Lord forbid that thi...
Adam Lindsay Gordon
Famine Song
Death and Famine on every side And never a sign of rain,The bones of those who have starved and died Unburied upon the plain.What care have I that the bones bleach white? To-morrow they may be mine,But I shall sleep in your arms to-night And drink your lips like wine!Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death, And the brave red blood set free,The glazing eye and the failing breath, - But what are these things to me?Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright And your blood is red like wine,And I shall sleep in your arms to-night And hold your lips with mine!I hear the sound of a thousand tears, Like softly pattering rain,I see the fever, folly, and fears Fulfilling man's tale of pain.But ...
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
Roots And Leaves Themselves Alone
Roots and leaves themselves alone are these;Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side,Breast-sorrel and pinks of love--fingers that wind around tighter than vines,Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen;Breezes of land and love--breezes set from living shores out to you on the living sea--to you, O sailors!Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs, offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are,Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you;If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanche...
Walt Whitman
The Violin.
Touch gently, friend, and slow, the violin, So sweet and low,That my dreaming senses may be beckoned soInto a rest as deep as the long past "years ago!"So softly, then, begin;And ever gently touch the violin,Until an impulse grows of a sudden, like windOn the brow of the earth,And the voice of your violin shows its wide-swung girthWith a crash of the strings and a medley of rage and mirth;And my rested senses springLike juice from a broken rind,And the joys that your melodies bringI know worth a life-time to win,As you waken to love and this hour your violin!
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
Fancy
Far in the Further East the skilful craftsman Fashioned this fancy for the West's delight.This rose and azure Dragon, crouching softly Upon the satin skin, close-grained and white.And you lay silent, while his slender needles Pricked the intricate pattern on your arm,Combining deftly Cruelty and Beauty, That subtle union, whose child is charm.Charm irresistible: the lovely something We follow in our dreams, but may not reach.The unattainable Divine Enchantment, Hinted in music, never heard in speech.This from the blue design exhales towards me, As incense rises from the Homes of Prayer,While the unfettered eyes, allured and rested, Urge the forbidden lips to stoop and share;Share in the sweetness ...
Song (Love)
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,Disease that has more Joys than Health;Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,And of Tyranny complain,We are all better'd by thy Reign.What Reason never can bestow,We to this useful Passion owe:Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,And learns a Clown the Art to please:Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;And teaches airy Fops to think.When full brute Appetite is fed,And choaked the Glutton lies and dead;Thou new Spirits dost dispense,And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.Virtue's unconquerable AidThat against Nature can persuade;And makes a roving Mind retire
Aphra Behn
I Shall Forget
Although my life, which thou hast scarred and shaken,Retains awhile some influence of thee,As shells, by faithless waves long since forsaken,Still murmur with the music of the Sea,I shall forget. Not thine the haunting beauty,Which, once beheld, for ever holds the heart,Or, if resigned from stress of Fate or Duty,Takes part of life away: - the dearer part.I gave thee love; thou gavest but Desire.Ah, the delusion of that summer night!Thy soul vibrated at the rate of Fire;Mine, with the rhythm of the waves of Light.It is my love for thee that I regret,Not thee, thyself, and hence, - I shall forget!
Common-Wealth
Give thanks, my soul, for the things that are free!The blue of the sky, the shade of a tree,And the unowned leagues of the shining sea.Be grateful, my heart, for everyman's gold;By road-way and river and hill unfoldSun-coloured blossoms that never are sold.For the little joys sometimes say a grace;The scent of a rose, the frost's fairy lace,Or the sound of the rain in a quiet place.Be glad of what cannot be bought or beguiled;The trust of the tameless, the fearless, the wild,The song of a bird and the faith of a child.For prairie and mountain, windswept and high,For betiding beauty of earth and sky -Say a benediction e'er you pass by.Give thanks, my soul, for the things that are free!The joy of life and the spring'...
Virna Sheard
The Welcome and Farewell.
To meet, and part, as we have met and parted, One moment cherished and the next forgot,To wear a smile when almost broken-hearted, I know full well is hapless woman's lot;Yet let me, to thy tenderness appealing, Avert this brief but melancholy doom--Content that close beside the thorn of feeling, Grows memory, like a rose, in guarded bloom.Love's history, dearest, is a sad one ever, Yet often with a smile I've heard it told!Oh, there are records of the heart which never Are to the scrutinizing gaze unrolled!My eyes to thine may scarce again aspire-- Still in thy memory, dearest let me dwell,And hush, with this hope, the magnetic wire, Wild with our mingled welcome and farewell!
An Easter Flower.
I.The flower that she gave to me Has withered now and died--But yet with fond fidelity Its faded leaves abide.II.The petals that so fragrant then She wore upon her breast--Still clinging to the lifeless stem, With miser care possessed.III.As when in sweetest purity It shed its perfume rare,A symbol dear 'twill ever be Of one divinely fair!IV.Plucked by the cruel hand of Death In beauty's youthful bloom--She perished with his chilling breath, And withered in the tomb.V.But I will cherish ever thus The token that she gaveWhen sun-lit skies were over us, Unclouded by the grave!
George W. Doneghy