love poem

Ah, happy air that, rough or soft,
   May kiss that face and stay;
And happy beams that from above
   May choose to her their way;
And happy flowers that now and then
   Touch lips more sweet than they!

But it were not so blest to be
   Or light or air or rose;
Those dainty fingers tear and toss
   The bloom that in them glows;
And come or go, both wind and ray
   She heeds not, if she knows.

But if I come thy choice should be
   Either to love or not --

In this fair stranger’s eyes of grey
Thine eyes, my love, I see.
I shudder: for the passing day
Had borne me far from thee.

This is the curse of life: that not
A nobler calmer train
Of wiser thoughts and feelings blot
Our passions from our brain;

But each day brings its petty dust
Our soon-chok’d souls to fill,
And we forget because we must,
And not because we will.

I struggle towards the light; and ye,
Once-long’d-for storms of love!
If with the light ye cannot be,

A yawning gulf between
My vision-tree and my reality-plant.
A yawning gulf between
The place I love to live and the place I live.
I love to live under the vault of heaven.
Alas, my existence lives
In the valley of the shadow of death.
Peace has escaped my remembrance;
Delight, too.

But I know a swing of the pendulum
Will change my face and fate.
My surrender supreme
Shall marry my dream-boat
With my reality-shore.

They were all fed on many a plaint and tear
The humble blooms on my Parnassus grown;
My tears of love flowed not for you alone,
But also for the land I hold so dear.

My soul was filled with bitterness and fear
At love so scant to a trusting Mother shown;
The thought that no more love from you I've known
Torments and tears me like a wound severe.

All the reward I wished for was that you
With me a poet's timeless fame might share
That native songs our poignant tale might bear;

These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind,
Culled from my bosom, lay it wholly bare;
My heart's a garden: Love is sowing there
Sad elegies each with my longing signed.

You are their sun whose radiance, purblind,
I seek in vain at home and everywhere,
In theatre, on promenade and square,
Midst revels where the chains of dancers wind.

How often through the town with watchful eyes
I wander, praying for a fate more kind,
Yet catch no glimpse of that elusive prize.

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

I cared not what they failings were
They faults I would not see.
I only knew I loved thee well
And thought thee true to me.

I shunned amid life's busy crowd
Those who would thee defame.
For oh, it pained a trusting heart
To hear men idly blame.

I would not heed when meddling friends
Would whisper aught of thee.
I thought not one so seeming true
Could e'er a traitor be.

And then they knew not of thy tone
Of love and fond caress
That would my soul responsive move

A sentinel angel sitting high in glory
Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory:
"Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story!

"I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell.
Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell.
For God is just, and death for sin is well.

"I do not rage against his high decree,
Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be;
But for my love on earth who mourns for me.

"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again
And comfort him one hour, and I were fain

Three sang of love together: one with lips
Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in a glow,
Flushed to the yellow hair and finger-tips;
And one there sang who soft and smooth as snow
Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at a show;
And one was blue with famine after love,
Who like a harpstring snapped rang harsh and low
The burden of what those were singing of.
One shamed herself in love; one temperately
Grew gross in soulless love, a sluggish wife;
One famished died for love. Thus two of three

'Now who shall say he loves me not.'

He wooed her first in an atmosphere
Of tender and low-breathed sighs;
But the pang of her laugh went cutting clear
To the soul of the enterprise;
'You beg so pert for the kiss you seek
It reminds me, John,' she said,
'Of a poodle pet that jumps to 'speak'
For a crumb or a crust of bread.'

And flashing up, with the blush that flushed
His face like a tableau-light,
Came a bitter threat that his white lips hushed
To a chill, hoarse-voiced 'Good night!'