Night, sing to her
All of thy songs.
Night, bring to her
Dreams that will cling to her,
Dreams that will move her with tears for my wrongs.
Night, sing to her.

Night, care for her —
All of her sins,
Night, bear for her —
Beauty's a prayer for her,
Beauty's a prayer which she ends and begins —
Night, care for her.

Night, sing to her
All that has lain
Like a dead thing to her —

I sent her a fortnight ago
A lily, a rose and a song;
Three fair little symbols to show
That Love had forgiven the wrong.
And I said to the flowers, " Be fair , "
And I said to the song, " Be my voice " ;
And I took and I placed them with care
In a book that had made her rejoice.

To-day she returned them to me
Unanswered, untouched and untried —
And I wept, when I found them, to see

" While the world is soothed with sleep,
Wrapped in fever I am lying,
And I hear the angels weep —
Who is it that lies a-dying? "
" Dearest, dearest,
What thou hearest
Are the winds that wander sighing. "

" Nay, for I can see his face,
Burning with its fearful story;
Look — it glares at me through space
Like a death-head, scarred and gory. "
" Dearest, dearest,
What thou fearest

Every night I climb the stair,
And with every fresh ascending
Comes the moment of despair.
Will she meet me — will she dare
And each night (oh happy ending)
She is there!

People fear the house — they say
It has stood unclaimed, unwanted
Since a dying lover lay
While he heard his love betray;
Sprang up — and the rooms are haunted
To this day.

But we come here where no eye
Watches us, where all that hovers

" Only of thee and me the nightwind sings,
Only of us the sailors speak at sea,
The earth is filled with wondered whisperings
Only of thee and me.

" Only of thee and me the breakers chant,
Only of us the stir in bush and tree;
The rain and sunshine tell the eager plant
Only of thee and me.

" Only of thee and me, till all shall fade;
Only of us the whole world's thoughts can be —
For we are Love, and God Himself is made

Away with doleful maundering, away with fretful days,
Away with all that smacks of grief, of tears and banners furled,
An end to dull perplexities, an end to old dismays,
There is promise in her eyes — there is promise in the world.
Her mood is subtly changing; she has whispers for me now;
Her eyes meet mine more quickly, and more quickly leave my gaze.
Her heart perhaps has melted to a word somewhere, somehow —

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress:
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God, our Father dear:
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine:
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
All I can do is blame it on her youth.

Joy of my life, full oft for loving you
I blesse my lot, that was so lucky placed:
But then the more your owne mishap I rew,
That are so much by so meane love embased.
For had the equall hevens so much you graced
In this as in the rest, ye mote invent
Som hevenly wit, whose verse could have enchased
Your glorious name in golden moniment.
But since ye deignd so goodly to relent
To me your thrall, in whom is little worth,
That little that I am, shall all be spent,
In setting your immortall prayses forth.
Whose lofty argument uplifting me,

Fayre bosome fraught with vertues richest tresure,
The neast of love, the lodging of delight:
The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure,
The sacred harbour of that hevenly spright.
How was I ravisht with your lovely sight,
And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray?
Whiles diving deepe through amorous insight,
On the sweet spoyle of beautie they did pray.
And twixt her paps like early fruit in May,
Whose harvest seemd to hasten now apace:
They loosely did theyr wanton winges display,
And there to rest themselves did boldly place.