 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
LOVE.
Love, gentle fair, can boast a source divine,
Whatever be its earthly form and feature,
It flows like Sol's life-giving beams benign,
From the Creator to the humblest creature.
It is the very life and soul,
Of all that live, and breathe, and move;
There 's not a pulse from pole to pole
But vibrates solely from the power of love.
The largest form, the smallest thing,
That Nature's boundless kingdom holds,
Whether it move by feet or wing,
Or finny oar, or sinuous folds;
All, all exist on this mysterious plan,
From viewless insects up to lordly man.
Whatever be its earthly form and feature,
It flows like Sol's life-giving beams benign,
From the Creator to the humblest creature.
It is the very life and soul,
Of all that live, and breathe, and move;
There 's not a pulse from pole to pole
But vibrates solely from the power of love.
The largest form, the smallest thing,
That Nature's boundless kingdom holds,
Whether it move by feet or wing,
Or finny oar, or sinuous folds;
All, all exist on this mysterious plan,
From viewless insects up to lordly man.
Love, in its essence, ever flows the same,
But when recipient vessels are defiled,
They change its nature, purity, and aim,
To earthly passions, selfish, fierce, and wild;
To envy, malice, covetous desire,
Revenge, ambition, pride, and jealous ire,
Till Love's benignant, pure, celestial flame,
Is thus converted to infernal fire!
But when recipient vessels are defiled,
160
To earthly passions, selfish, fierce, and wild;
To envy, malice, covetous desire,
Revenge, ambition, pride, and jealous ire,
Till Love's benignant, pure, celestial flame,
Is thus converted to infernal fire!
Not so, in hearts like thine, my fair,
Guarded by knowledge, truth, and reason,
For vice can find no entrance there,
By open force, or subtle treason.
Such hearts, like mirrors, catch the rays
Of Love's benignant flame,
Reflecting back a milder blaze,
Of humble gratitude and praise,
To bless the giver's name.
They throw around inspiring gleams
Of bliss that angels taste above,
And these are but reflected beams
From the pure flame of love.
But if a true, congenial heart,
Of firmer texture, catch its light,
Into one focal point will dart
The rays of both, and there unite.
Resign the lens to Cupid's care,
While Hymen's torch shall blaze above:
Such be thy happy lot, my fair,
For this will be connubial love.
Guarded by knowledge, truth, and reason,
For vice can find no entrance there,
By open force, or subtle treason.
Such hearts, like mirrors, catch the rays
Of Love's benignant flame,
Reflecting back a milder blaze,
Of humble gratitude and praise,
To bless the giver's name.
They throw around inspiring gleams
Of bliss that angels taste above,
And these are but reflected beams
From the pure flame of love.
But if a true, congenial heart,
Of firmer texture, catch its light,
Into one focal point will dart
The rays of both, and there unite.
Resign the lens to Cupid's care,
While Hymen's torch shall blaze above:
Such be thy happy lot, my fair,
For this will be connubial love.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |