love poetry

I.

I THINK I've looked on eyes that shone
With equal splendour,
And some, but they are dimmed and gone,
As wildly tender.
I never looked on eyes that shed
Such home-light mingled with such beauty, —
That 'mid all lights and shadows said,
" I love and trust and will be true to ye. "

II.

I've seen some lips almost as red,

I.

Why should not I take her unto my heart!
She has not a morsel of guile or art;
Why should not I make her my happy wife,
And love her and cherish her all my life?
I've met with a few of as shining eyes,
I've met with a hundred of wilder sighs,
I think I met some whom I loved as well —
But none who loved me like my Darling Nell.

II.

She's ready to cry when I seem unkind,
But she smothers her grief within her mind;
And when my spirit is soft and fond,
She sparkles the brightest of stars beyond.

I.

The summer brook flows in the bed,
The winter torrent tore asunder;
The sky-lark's gentle wings are spread,
Where walk the lightning and the thunder:
And thus you'll find the sternest soul
The greatest tenderness concealing,
And minds, that seem to mock control,
Are ordered by some fairy feeling.

II.

Then, maiden! start not from the hand
That's hardened by the swaying sabre —

I.

O H ! lady, think not that my heart has grown cold,
 If I woo not as once I could woo;
Though sorrow has bruised it, and long years have rolled,
 It still doats on beauty and you;
And were I to yield to its inmost desire
 I would labour by night and by day,
'Till I won you to flee from the home of your sire,
 To live with your love far away.

II.

But it is that my country's in bondage, and I
 Have sworn to shatter her chains!
By my duty and oath I must do it or lie

I.

To the conqueror his crowning,
First freedom to the slave
And air unto the drowning,
Sunk in the ocean's wave —
And succour to the faithful,
Who fight their flag above,
Are sweet, but far less grateful
Than were my lady's love.

II.

I know I am not worthy
Of one so young and bright;
And yet I would do for thee
Far more than others might;

Little leafy brothers! You can feel
Warmth o' the sun,
Cool sap streams run,
The slow soft nuzzling creep
Of roots sent deep,
And a close-anchored flowing
In winds smooth blowing.
And in the spring! The spring!
When the stars sing —
The world's love in you grows
Into the rose.

Little hairy brothers! You can feel
The kind sun too;
Winds play with you,
Water is live delight —
In your own swift flight
Of wings or leaping feet
Life rushes sweet —
And in the Spring! the spring!

In the early summer morning
I stand and watch them come,
The Children to the School-house;
They chatter and laugh and hum.

The little boys with satchels
Slung round them, and the Girls
Each with hers swinging in her hand;
I love their sunny curls.

I love to see them playing,
Romping and shouting with glee,
The boys and girls together,
Simple, fearless, free.

I love to see them marching
In squads, in file, in line,
Advancing and retreating
Tramping, keeping time.

(With his first book of " Songs. " )

" My Sweet, my Child, through all this night
Of dark and wind and rain,
Where thunder crashes, and the light
Sears the bewildered brain,

" It is your Face, your lips, your eyes
I see rise up; I hear
Your Voice that sobs and calls and cries,
Or shrills and mocks at fear.

" O this that's mine is yours as well,
For side by side our feet
Trod through these bitter brakes of hell.
Take it, my Child, my Sweet! "

" MY BABY GIRL, THAT WAS BORN AND DIED ON THE SAME DAY . "

" With wild torn heart I see them still,
Wee unused clothes and empty cot.
Though glad my love has missed the ill
That falls to woman's lot.

" No tangled paths for her to tread
Throughout the coming changeful years;
No desperate weird to dree and dread;
No bitter lonely tears!

" No woman's piercing crown of thorns

" ESAU . "

Was it for nothing in the years gone by,
O my love, O my friend,
You thrilled me with your noble words of faith? —
Hope beyond life, and love, love beyond death!
Yet now I shudder, and yet you did not die,
O my friend, O my love!

Was it for nothing in the dear dead years,
O my love, O my friend,
I kissed you when you wrung my heart from me,
And gave my stubborn hand where trust might be?