The fairy poet takes a sheet
Of moonbeam, silver white;
His ink is dew from daisies sweet,
His pen a point of light.

My love I know is fairer far
Than his, (though she is fair,)
And we should dwell where fairies are —
For I could praise her there.

I

What is love of one's land? ...
I don't know very well.
It is something that sleeps
For a year, for a day,
For a month — something that keeps
Very hidden and quiet and still,
And then takes
The quiet heart like a wave,
The quiet brain like a spell,
The quiet will
Like a tornado; and that shakes
The whole of the soul.

II

It is omnipotent like love;
It is deep and quiet as the grave,

Some tell of Thebes and some relate
Of Phrygian wars the conflicts dire;
But I, who feel no martial fire,
A captive, glory in my fate.

Of fleets victorious am I
No slave; nor yet an army's prize:
My conquerors they are the sly
Foes darting fires from my love's eyes.

Like a child engrossed in play, you sit, young mother, by the cradle, and your mock-serious face looks so childishly charming, childishly charming the face and childlike blue the eyes .
With smile-wreathed lips sleeps the child in the cradle; it is also time for the little lovely mother to retire ... Yet the little, lovely mother with her head nods: nay ...

O had we ne'er looed one anither
We had neer been curs'd togither
Never shunned and never hated
Had we never been created

Woman in her own true nature
Is a fair and lovely creature
Man a savage from the wild
But when loved a very child

Had they ne'er been put togither
They'd ne'er slighted ane anither
Rift and scar[r]ed like clouds o' thunder
Now they're lost and lone asunder

Lost in crowds and lone togither
Love says love ye one anither
Love's anither name for sorrow
Which from hate we often borrow

She could have loved — her woman-passions beat
Deeper than theirs, or else she had not known
How to have dropped her heart beneath their feet
A living stepping-stone:

The little hands — did they not clutch her heart?
The guarding arms — was she not very tired?
Was it an easy thing to walk apart,
Unresting, undesired?

She gave away her crown of woman-praise,
Her gentleness and silent girlhood grace

Among all the millions of human eyes the chosen pair in sweetness. Smooth hair, fragrant like soul — and above it the aureole of love.
A forehead, clear as a child's thought, and hands that never did caress me yet, and lips, where only truth is spoken and where every word is sweet song.
And in the two-and-twenty year old breast a heart that knew of no sin, and where the breath of the god of love daily writes anew his Tenth Commandment.
And in the blessed, deep heart a stream of pity for my sea of pain.

My ain heart love is thine
If I'd the mair to spare
Love thoughts are pure as heaven divine
They're Truth and naething mair
And thine is truth or has been sae
Till parting made us twain
The spring that makes the grasses grow
Will sure come green again

Thy voice will come a shorter way
Than e'er it did of yore
For we've been married many a day
And coyness now is o'er
Ive wiped the gold dust frae thy shoe
As we clomb the King Cup hill
And brush'd thy new gown often too
And I felt no kind of ill —

My love is like the Gilliflower
I planted by mysell
My love is like a Willowflower
A blossom wi'out smell

2

How sweet and very fair my love
Like diamonds are her eyes
Like dew drops sparkling from above
That on the white rose lies

3

Her cheeks are like the Red rose tree
Her bosom like the white
Her thoughts from Heaven surely be
To give to man delight

4

My love is like the white thorn tree
When its leaves are blown away
His cheeks are red as haw berry
His dress is never gay

2

My love is like the Bramble bushes
Whose leaves lie on the ground
While hes sitting on the rushes
His looks have power to wound

3

His dress — that does not make the man
In one dress all the year
Wi coarse smock frock as brown as tan