love poetry

Hark, 'tis the voice of the long-parted years!
An hundred generations, joining tongues
From every land to swell the choral song,
While angels bear it to the throne of God.

Where'er the patient dead lie waiting for
The Resurrection trump, their very graves
Are vocal with thy imagery divine,
That speaks the language of Freemasonry.

The living, loving groups in mystic round,
Whisper those words their fathers knew and loved;
While kindled eye and burning heart confess
That time but strengthens thee, Freemasonry.

I kept a beggar's hut till Love
Knocked at my sullen door;
I knew not what a spirit then
Footed that earthen floor.

No lights were in his tangled hair,
His bare feet bled with cold,
But all his frail hands chanced upon
Flamed into sudden gold.

I

My heart is a bright dagger no hand may draw
From the sheath of his love — save that
Of my Lover.


II

Like a fountain pool
The yellow leaves have shrouded,
His kisses stifle my laughter.


III

The cadence of the fountain is a secret ever
Between falling water
And my dreaming passion —
The drops fall on my heart — as I listen
Again I am with him ...

To You — this blue flame of a well-burned life —
Angel or demon sprung of Love's hot hour,
An azure ghost of passion's molten strife —
Lone reveller o'er a grave of fire,
As Daphne — fleeing to the laurel night,
As Psyche — glancing ere she quenched the light.

With the fair tree so famous, Hymen now
His hallowed sacrificial torch is feeding
And with its verdant garlands crowns his brow
Thy grief O Love! and thy despair not heeding:
And thou that oftimes around it hover
Like a starved bird after it's loved food greeding,
In its sweet shade no more shalt find a cover
Peace, Love, is gone, and thou tow'rd scorn art speeding.

While of the age in which the heart but ill
Defends itself — and in thy native land,
Love and thine eyes unable to withstand
They won me, and though distant dazzle still.
Hither I came, intent my mind to fill,
With Wisdom, study — gathered from on high,
But loathed to part, so that to stay or fly
Kept, and still keep sore struggle in my will.
And now all careless of the heat and cold
With ceaseless vigils Laura , night and day,
That thou a worthier lover may'st behold
For thee to Fame I strive to win my way:

Now, while the thunder peal of battle is heard,
Earth with the tramping of legions is stirred,
Turn from the battle, Brothers, take from above,
Words OF Peace AND L OVE !

Hearts of consolation, bide ye the vow!
Hands, never weary in charity now!
Tongues rich in sympathy, oh, take from above
Words OF Peace AND L OVE !

Blood like a river flowing, smokes o'er the plain;
Tears, bitter weeping,—oh, who can retrain!
Stay, stay the slaughter, Brothers, stay this distress,
Speak the Words OF Peace !

Flaunting our Banners on the breeze,
Flashing the mystic steel above.
The Knights of Golgotha are these,
And linked in holy links of love.

Stained with the dust of many a clime,
Weary and travel-worn we are,
But see how gleams the Cross sublime!
In C HRIST we make the Holy War.

Ah, who can speak our warrior bliss,
Bound in a blood-cemented chain!
Our life has had no scene like this,
And few will see the like again.

Hands, in a mighty union grasp, —

Star of my Love! upon the deep
Struggling through Night's dim misty veil
Whilst low winds o'er the waters creep
Still heaving from the by-gone gale,
And solitary sea-birds wail —
Though all below are sunk in sleep —
Beneath the lazy flapping sail,
My lonely midnight watch I keep,
Thy holy light once more to hail
Star of my Love!

Star of my Love! too well! — too well! —

What is the sweetest?
The Baby's mouth,
With its pure, soft breathing coming and going,
Like perfume of winds from the sunny South,
Over the orange and lime-trees blowing.
Dimples hid in the curving tips,
Rose-leaf bloom on the gracious lips,
Tremulous smiling,
Soul beguiling,
This is the sweetest.

What is the brightest?
The Baby's eyes,
A heaven of gladness within them sleeping;
Questioning light that comes and flies,
Moving our hearts to smiles and weeping,