love poem

1. Sweet rivers of redeeming love Lie just before my eyes,
Had I the pinions of a dove, I'd to those regions rise;
2. While I'm imprisoned here below, In anguish, pain and smart,
Sometimes those troubles I forego, When love sustains my heart;
I'd rise superior to my pain, With joy outstrip the wind,
In darkest shadows of the night, Faith mounts the upper sky,
I'd cross proud Jordan's swelling flood, And leave the world behind. hind.
I then behold my heart's delight, And would rejoice to die. die.

3. A few more days or years at most

Time was you heard the music of a sigh,
And Love awoke; and with it Song was born,—
Song glad as young birds carol in the morn,
And tender as the blue and brooding sky,
When all the earth feels Spring's warm witchery,
And with fresh flowers her bosom doth adorn;
And lovers love, and cannot love forlorn,
Since Love is of the gods, and may not die.

In after years may come some wildering light,—
Some sweet delusion, followed for a space,—
Such fitful fire-flies flash athwart the night,
But fade before the shining of that face

Soft ruler of the feeling heart,
Whose very pains more bliss impart
Than stupid Folly's joy—
Delightful Love! my soul inspire,
Teach me to tune I ERNE'S Lyre
To social amity.

Warm'd by thy beautifying ray,
The gentle virgin's charms display
A more resistless grace;
Thy presence decks her lovely mein,
And points her eyes with light serene,
Mild-beaming o'er her face.

Fair sister of meek Charity,
O! condescend to live with me,
Thy willing votary;
My mind with lively pity move,

Down in the valley,
Valley so low,
Hang your head over,
Hear the train blow.

Hear the train blow, love,
Hear the train blow,
Hang your head over,
Hear the train blow.

If you don't love me,
Love whom you please,
But throw your arms round me,
Give my heart ease.

Step right up to me,
Before it's too late.
Throw your arms round me,
Feel my heart break.

I'll write you a letter,
Only three lines:
"Answer my question,
Will you be mine?'

Go build me a castle,

You say this world's dire need is love,
But O, in this be not misled;
Your hope must fiercely shine above
An epicure's indulgent bed.

Better the fiercest hatred born
Than that amœban death in life
That waits, with liquid eyes forlorn,
A happiness exempt from strife:

That octopus whose filthy arms
Would clasp the world to feed its ease:
That siren whose lascivious charms
Are bent her sickly lust to please.

Love stands upon the mountain height
And bids you strain your keenest nerve

You ask, my soul, that this our mutual love
In fondness, as duration, might excel:
Great gods direct that she but constant prove,
And that she speaks but true, who speaks so well!
Then, gently bound in friendship's holy tie,
We'll both together live, together die!

Think'st thou, I'd rail at her I prize,
The nymph that's dearer than these eyes?
I ne'er had any cause, I vow!
Or, if I had, my ardent love
Too strong an obstacle would prove——
But Tappo's sland'rous; so art thou!

Tho' I hate, yet I love!—you'll perhaps ask me, how?
I can't tell; but I'm vext, and I feel that I do.

No nymph, amid the much-lov'd few,
Is lov'd, as thou art lov'd by me:
No love was e'er so fond, so true,
As my fond love, sweet maid, for thee!

Yes, e'en thy faults, bewitching fair!
With such delights my soul possess;
That whether faithless, or sincere,
I cannot love thee more, nor less!

My nymph averr'd, that mine alone
She'd be, and Jove himself despise;
Tho' courted to partake his throne,
And reign the empress of the skies!

Thus did the flatt'rer fondly swear;
But what, alas, are woman's vows?
Fit to be written but on air,
Or on the stream that swiftly flows!