love poetry

ON SENDING HER MY LAST SONGS .

A Mademoiselle ...

These songs receive, wherein my Muse hath tried
To paint Love ready to desert my side;
And boasts of Glory, whose misguiding shade
A day may dissipate — a day hath made.
In one divinity no charm you find;
The other captivates your daring mind!
Still — as for Love — Hortense, I hold it true,
That he's the less deceitful of the two.

Self love's th'Arcadian streame,
A brittle Lookeinglasse,
A transitory dreame,
Of what nor is, nor shall ere come to passe
How doth it falsifye the face
Of our abilityes, and make us seeme
Cedars, that are but grasse.

The poisno'us Cockatrice,
If shee chance to surveye
Her owne effigies,
In a cleare Mirroir, doth her owne self slay:
So while wee prye in thee all day,
Doteing upon our selves, with partiall eyes,
Our lives wee weare away.

The crooked Camel loves

Where art thou, oh! my Beautiful? Afar
I seek thee sadly, till the day is done,
And o'er the splendour of the setting sun,
Cold, calm, and silvery, floats the evening star;
Where art thou? Ah! where art thou, hid in light
That haunts me, yet still wraps thee from my sight?

Not wholly — ah! not wholly — still Love's eyes
Trace thy dim beauty through the mystic veil,
Like the young moon that glimmers faint and pale,
At noontide through the sun-web of the skies;
But ah! I ope mine arms, and thou art gone,

LAYING THE CORNER-STONE, NORUMBEGA, WELLESLEY COLLEGE .

I N loving faith this stone we place;
God is our trust, — in Him we build;
All noble works through Him are wrought,
All life is with His pulse-beat thrilled.

O Life of life! O Light of light!
Our breath, our joy, our hope, our aim, —
We plant our corner-stone, we rear
Our home, in honor of Thy name!

In love o'er all the work preside

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF MADAME AMEDEE DE V ...

Couplet

Long may this album of a songster tell,
Whose ripened age his tender tone belies;
Who saw in thee grace, goodness, candor dwell,
And was, one moment, duped by thy bright eyes.
Through love? Ah! no — love could no more beguile;
But by thy flattering notice led astray,
He deemed that Beauty's smile
Was Glory's ray!

Les pigeons de la Bourse

Pigeons, who erst to Love's own car
 Were harnessed by the Muse,
Say, whither now ye speed your way?
Alas! to Brussels ye convey
 The money-market news
Thus noble rips and upstart fools,
 In all things bent on trade,
Have Venus' gentle messengers,
Into stock-brokers made

What! then, on poesy and love
 Mankind in vain were nursed;
And now-a-days for golden pelf,
That withers, ay, even Beauty's self,
 With fevered frenzy thirst!
To punish us, O faithful birds,

The Glacier-nymph, with love so soft,
For the young hunter burned,
And from her icy palace oft
Fond looks upon him turned.
But rough the chamois-hunter's heart
As is the world he walks;
Her winnings — warnings — could not start
The hero of the rocks.

Ofttimes her blooming head she 'ld bow,
A tender Alpine rose,
Then as a zephyr fan his brow,
And lull him to repose;
Oft as a misty ghost she 'ld frown
From Schreckborn-peaks on him,
Through snow-fields oft come roaring down

Love took me softly by the hand,
Love led me all the country o'er,
And show'd me beauty in the land,
That I had never dreamt before,
Never before, Oh! Love! sweet Love!

There was a glory in the morn,
There was a calmness in the night,
A mildness by the south wind borne,
That I had never felt aright,
Never aright, Oh! Love! sweet Love!

But now it cannot pass away,
I see it wheresoe'er I go,
And in my heart by night and day,
Its gladness waveth to and fro,

I love to go among my dear comrades the people,
Loafing in streets with my spirit alert and approving,
Not afraid to admit the bad with the good or losing faith when evil brags and blasphemes,
Giving my whole self for the whole self of the crowd,
Withholding nothing from the free interchange of the hours,
Liberal with life as the crowd is liberal with life,
In the sacred stream without question of precedence commingling.
You, dear comrades — you, the people: the common gang:
You draw me out — you go to my roots and get your pay:

We were just brothers — that was all:
Just two men who loved each other and never gave an account of our love,
Just workers in the world whose work was the sorrow and the joy of each other in days of failure and days of success.
I used to ask my brother why he loved me and he said he did not know,
And then he would ask me why I loved him and I too said I did not know:
And so we went about with each other happy in our sweet secret,
Went about with each other not being too curious regarding the mystery of our dear partnership.