love poetry

Dear Heart, this is my book of boyish song,
The changing story of the wandering quest
That found at last its ending in thy breast —
The love it sought and sang astray so long
With wild young heart and happy eager tongue
Much meant it all to me to seek and sing,
Ah, Love, but how much more to-day to bring
This " rhyme that first of all he made when young."

Take it and love it, 'tis the prophecy
For whose poor silver thou hast given me gold;
Yea! those old faces for an hour seemed fair

O MIGHTY Queen, our Lady of the fire,
The light, the music, and the honey, all
Blent in one Power, one passionate Desire
Man calleth Love — " Sweet love," the blessed call — :
I come a sad-eyed suppliant to thy knee,
If thou hast pity, pity grant to me;
If thou hast bounty, here a heart I bring
For all that bounty 'thirst and hungering
O Lady, save thy grace, there is no way
For me, I know, but lonely sorrowing —

If in my soul, dear,
An omen should dwell,
Bidding me pause, ere
I love thee too well;
If the whole circle
Of noble and wise,
With stern forebodings,
Between us should rise; —

I will tell them , dear,
That Love reigns — a King,
Where storms cannot reach him,
And words cannot sting;
He counts it dishonor
His faith to recall;

I

A mile of moonlight and the whispering wood:
A mile of shadow and the odorous lane:
One large, white star above the solitude,
Like one sweet wish: and, laughter after pain,
Wild-roses wistful in a web of rain.

II

No star, no rose, to lesson him and lead;
No woodsman compass of the skies and rocks, —
Tattooed of stars and lichens, — doth love need
To guide him where, among the hollyhocks,

THE tender, delicate Flowers,
I saw them fanned by a warm western wind
Fed by soft summer showers,
Shielded by care, and yet, (O Fate unkind!)
Fade in a few short hours.

The gentle and the gay,
Rich in a glorious Future of bright deeds,
Rejoicing in the day,
Are met by Death, who sternly, sadly leads
Them far away.

And Hopes, perfumed and bright,
So lately shining, wet with dew and tears,
Trembling in morning light;
I saw them change to dark and anxious fears
Before the night!

I'm thinking of you to-night, Willie,
Alone in the silence bright;
While heav'n enswathes in a glittering veil
An unreal world of white.

I'm thinking of you to-night, Willie,
In the deathless afterglow
Of ideal love that was pure and white,
Ah! Willie, you know, you know!

I'm thinking of you to-night, Willie,
While out in the quiet street,
A passionate wail of melody
Flows out from a cornet sweet.

The plaint in the air is sad, Willie,
Ah! Sadder could never be,

FROM THE FRENCH

From the same parent, issuing at a birth,
Two different beings tread this changeful earth;
The one call'd Happiness, to whom was given,
With liberal hand, each fairer boon of heaven;
But, from his youth, defrauded of his due,
No kind, no lenient care Misfortune knew,
Till soften'd by his wrongs, the sacred powers
Bade Hermes soothe to milder grief his hours.
He placed Humanity for ever near,
And the sweet pleasures of the social tear;

Wattle blossoms, bright as gold,
Perfume wafting, fold on fold;
Gilding with their yellow sheen
Granite hills and gullies green,
Warm and sweet as Love, I ween.

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM .

Muse's gifts are sweet — but doubly sweet
When to adorn the brow of Truth they're given;
To scatter flow'rs round lovely woman's feet,
And deok the path that leads her up to heaven.

I LOVE those spirits
That men stand off and point at,
Or shudder and hood up their souls —
Those ruined ones,
Where Liberty has lodged an hour
And passed like flame,
Bursting asunder the too small house.