love poem

My best-loved color? Well, I think I like
A soft and tender dewy green—for grass.
Sometimes a pink my fancy too will strike—
In lobster purée or a Sauterne glass.

Blue is a color, too, I greatly love.
It’s sort of satisfying to my eyes.
’Tis their own color; and I’m quite fond of
This hue also for soft Italian skies.

For blushes, give me red, nor hesitate
To pile it on; I like it good and strong
Upon the cheeks of her I call my Fate,
The loveliest of all the lovely throng.

A BOOK is an aristocrat:
’Tis pampered—lives in state;
Stands on a shelf, with naught whereat
To worry—lovely fate!

Enjoys the best of company;
And often—ay, ’tis so—
Like much in aristocracy,
Its title makes it go.

"But, ah! if thou hadst loved me--had I been
All to thy dreams that to mine own thou art."

The branches o’ the woodbine hide
My little cottage wall,
An’ though ’tis but a humble thatch,
I envy not the hall.

The wooded hills before my eyes
Are spread both far and wide;
An’ Nature’s grandeur seems to dress,
In all her lovely pride.

It is, indeed, a lovely spot,
O’ singing birds an’ flowers;
’Mid Nature’s grandeur it is true,
I pass away my hours.

Yet think not ’tis this lovely glen,
So dear in all its charms;
Its blossomed banks and rippled reels,

O welcome, lovely summer,
Wi’ thi golden days so long,
When the throstle and the blackbird
Do charm us wi’ ther song;
When the lark in early morning
Takes his aerial flight;
An’ the humming bat an’ buzzard
Frolic in the night.

O! welcome, lovely summer,
With her rainbow’s lovely form;
Her thunner an’ her leetnin’,
An’ her grandeur in the storm:
With her sunshine an’ her shower,
An’ her whirlin’ of the dust,
An’ the maiden with her flagon,
To sleck the mower’s thirst.

He heard it first upon the lips of love,
And loved it for love’s sake;
A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change,
Nor lone heart-break.

It sung across his heart-strings like a breath
Of Heaven’s faithfulness, that whispered “Never
To part, to lose, to linger from your gaze.”
She said, “I love for ever.”

He heard it then upon the lips of death,
Of things that fade and die;
A word of sorrow never to be stilled,
An ever echoing sigh.

And loneliness within his soul did dwell,

I

The young moon is white,
But the willows are blue:
Your small lips are red,
But the great clouds are grey:
The waves are so many
That whisper to you;
But my love is only
One flight of spray.


II

The bright drops are many,
The dark wave is one:
The dark wave subsides,
And the bright sea remains!
And wherever, O singing
Maid, you may run,
You are one with the world
For all your pains.

Here in the silent doorway let me linger
One moment, for the porch is still and lonely;
That shadow's but the rose vine in the moonlight;
All are asleep in peace, I waken only,
And he I wait, by my own heart's beating
I know how slow to him the tide creeps by,
Nor life, nor death, could bar our hearts from meeting;
Were worlds between, his soul to mine would fly.

Oh, shame! to think a heap of paltry metal
Should overbalance manhood's noblest graces;
A film of gold had gilt his worth and honor,

Lift up your brown eyes, darling,
Not timidly and shy,
As in the fair, lost past, not thus
I'd have you meet my eye.
But grave, and calm, and earnest,
Thus bravely should we part,
Not sorrowfully, not lightly,
And so farewell, dear heart.

Yes, fare thee well, farewell,
Whate'er shall me betide
May gentlest angels comfort thee,
And peace with thee abide;
Our love was but a stormy love,
'Tis your will we should part--
So smile upon me once, darling,
And then farewell, dear heart.

All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,
Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
The forms of men shall be as they had never been;
The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green;
The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song,
And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long;
The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,
And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.
The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox,