 | My Lyrical Life |  |
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LYRICS OF LOVE.
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SWEET SPIRIT OF MY LOVE.
Sweet Spirit of my love!
Through all the world we walk apart:
Thou mayst not in my bosom lie;
I may not press Thee to my heart
Nor see the love-thoughts light thine eye:
Yet art Thou with me. All my life
Orbs out in thy warm beauty's sphere;
My loftiest dreams of Thee are rife,
And coloured with thy presence dear.
Through all the world we walk apart:
Thou mayst not in my bosom lie;
I may not press Thee to my heart
Nor see the love-thoughts light thine eye:
Yet art Thou with me. All my life
Orbs out in thy warm beauty's sphere;
My loftiest dreams of Thee are rife,
And coloured with thy presence dear.
Sweet Spirit of my love!
I know how beautiful Thou art,
But never tell the starry thought:
I only whisper to my heart,
“She lights with heaven thy earthliest spot.”
And birds that night and day rejoice,
And winds and waves give back to me
Their music murmuring of thy voice;
And warble into songs of Thee.
I know how beautiful Thou art,
But never tell the starry thought:
I only whisper to my heart,
“She lights with heaven thy earthliest spot.”
And birds that night and day rejoice,
And winds and waves give back to me
Their music murmuring of thy voice;
And warble into songs of Thee.
Sweet Spirit of my love!
No Spring, or Summer bloom-bedight,
That garlands earth with rainbow-showers;
No breath of Morn, or eyes that Light
Doth open in the waking flowers;
No Bee goes honey-laden by,
No flash of water, sigh of tree;
Never a New Moon mounts the sky
But draws my heart's love-tide to Thee!
No Spring, or Summer bloom-bedight,
That garlands earth with rainbow-showers;
No breath of Morn, or eyes that Light
Doth open in the waking flowers;
No Bee goes honey-laden by,
No flash of water, sigh of tree;
Never a New Moon mounts the sky
But draws my heart's love-tide to Thee!
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Sweet Spirit of my love!
When Night's soft silence clothes the earth,
To wake the passionate bird of love,
And Stars laugh out in lofty mirth,
And yearning souls divinelier move;
When Stillness hallows every spot,
And, lapped in feeling's luxury,
The heart's break-full of tender thought;
Then art Thou with me, still with me.
When Night's soft silence clothes the earth,
To wake the passionate bird of love,
And Stars laugh out in lofty mirth,
And yearning souls divinelier move;
When Stillness hallows every spot,
And, lapped in feeling's luxury,
The heart's break-full of tender thought;
Then art Thou with me, still with me.
Sweet Spirit of my love!
I listen for thy footfall, feel
Thy look is burning on me, such
As reads my heart; 'twill sometimes reel
And throb, expectant for thy touch!
For by the voice of birds and brooks,
And flowers with dews of heaven wet,
And earnest stars with yearning looks,
I know that we shall mingle yet.
I listen for thy footfall, feel
Thy look is burning on me, such
As reads my heart; 'twill sometimes reel
And throb, expectant for thy touch!
For by the voice of birds and brooks,
And flowers with dews of heaven wet,
And earnest stars with yearning looks,
I know that we shall mingle yet.
Sweet Spirit of my love!
Strange places on me smile, as Thou
Hadst passed, and left thy beauty's tints:
Even the wild flowers seem to know,
And light and shade flash mystic hints.
Methinks, like olden Gods, Thou'lt come
In cloud; but mine anointed eyes
Shall see the glory burn through gloom,
And clasp Thee, Sweet! with large surprise.
Strange places on me smile, as Thou
Hadst passed, and left thy beauty's tints:
Even the wild flowers seem to know,
And light and shade flash mystic hints.
Methinks, like olden Gods, Thou'lt come
In cloud; but mine anointed eyes
Shall see the glory burn through gloom,
And clasp Thee, Sweet! with large surprise.
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NOT I, SWEET SOUL, NOT I.
All glorious as the Rainbow's birth,
She came in Spring-tide's golden hours;
When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,
And May was crowned with buds and flowers.
The mounting devil at my heart
Clomb faintlier, as my life did win
The charmèd heaven, she wrought apart,
To wake its better Angel in.
With radiant mien she trode serene,
And passed me smiling by!
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
She came in Spring-tide's golden hours;
When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,
And May was crowned with buds and flowers.
The mounting devil at my heart
Clomb faintlier, as my life did win
The charmèd heaven, she wrought apart,
To wake its better Angel in.
With radiant mien she trode serene,
And passed me smiling by!
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
The dewy eyelids of the Dawn
Ne'er oped such heaven as hers did show:
It seemed her dear eyes might have shone
As jewels in some starry brow.
Her face flashed glory like a shrine,
Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;
Where came and went love-thoughts divine,
As low winds walk the leaves in light:
She wore her beauty with the grace
Of Summer's star-clad sky;
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
Ne'er oped such heaven as hers did show:
It seemed her dear eyes might have shone
As jewels in some starry brow.
Her face flashed glory like a shrine,
Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;
Where came and went love-thoughts divine,
As low winds walk the leaves in light:
She wore her beauty with the grace
Of Summer's star-clad sky;
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit
Of love were ripening to be pressed:
Her voice, that shook my heart's red root,
Might not have broken a Babe's rest,—
More liquid than the running brooks;
More vernal than the voice of Spring,
When Nightingales are in their nooks,
And all the leafy thickets ring.
The love she coyly hid at heart
Was shyly conscious in her eye;
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
Of love were ripening to be pressed:
Her voice, that shook my heart's red root,
Might not have broken a Babe's rest,—
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More vernal than the voice of Spring,
When Nightingales are in their nooks,
And all the leafy thickets ring.
The love she coyly hid at heart
Was shyly conscious in her eye;
O! who that looked could help but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
LOVE ME.
“
All
dear as the feeling when first flowers start,
Thou cam'st in thy musical lightness:
And the cloud wept itself in rich rain on my heart,
That had hidden thy beauty and brightness.
'Twas as Life's topmost window oped suddenly, bright
With the glittering face of an Angel,
The sweet secret out-flashed on thy forehead of light,
And thy voice was thy own love's Evangel!
O how shall I crown thee, Love, on my heart's throne,
Thou art so far, far above me?”
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love in my own,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
Thou cam'st in thy musical lightness:
And the cloud wept itself in rich rain on my heart,
That had hidden thy beauty and brightness.
'Twas as Life's topmost window oped suddenly, bright
With the glittering face of an Angel,
The sweet secret out-flashed on thy forehead of light,
And thy voice was thy own love's Evangel!
O how shall I crown thee, Love, on my heart's throne,
Thou art so far, far above me?”
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love in my own,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
“My Belovèd is fair as some beautiful Star
That walks in a pleasaunce of glory;
And her large-hearted looks and her lineaments are
As some Queen's of the old Greek story!
There's never night now, since those dear eyes of thine
Smiled on me with soft sweet splendour,
And I drank of the wine of thy kisses divine:
O what for such love shall I render?”
And aye, as I knelt at my true Love's shrine,
She bent in her beauty above me:
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love into mine,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
That walks in a pleasaunce of glory;
And her large-hearted looks and her lineaments are
As some Queen's of the old Greek story!
There's never night now, since those dear eyes of thine
Smiled on me with soft sweet splendour,
And I drank of the wine of thy kisses divine:
O what for such love shall I render?”
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She bent in her beauty above me:
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love into mine,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
“O could my heart, mountain-regioned in bliss,
Thy life with Love's affluence dower,
Thou shouldst have heaven in a world e'en like this,
And the joy of a life in each hour!
Thou shouldst go forth like a conquering Queen,
Reaping rich heartfuls of treasure,
Nor strive where the worn of heart wearily glean
But handfuls, in harvesting pleasure.”
And aye, as I knelt at my true Love's shrine,
She bent in her beauty above me:
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love into mine,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
Thy life with Love's affluence dower,
Thou shouldst have heaven in a world e'en like this,
And the joy of a life in each hour!
Thou shouldst go forth like a conquering Queen,
Reaping rich heartfuls of treasure,
Nor strive where the worn of heart wearily glean
But handfuls, in harvesting pleasure.”
And aye, as I knelt at my true Love's shrine,
She bent in her beauty above me:
And aye, as her dear eyes looked love into mine,
The Maiden answered, “Love me.”
THE PATRIOT TO HIS BRIDE.
Can you leave the fond bosom of Home, where
Joy hath been from your earliest waking?
Can you give its endearments to come, where
Life hath many a hot heart-aching?
Have you counted the cost to stand by me,
In the battle I fight for Man?
Shall your womanly love deify me,
Who stand under the world's dark ban?
A daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
Joy hath been from your earliest waking?
Can you give its endearments to come, where
Life hath many a hot heart-aching?
Have you counted the cost to stand by me,
In the battle I fight for Man?
Shall your womanly love deify me,
Who stand under the world's dark ban?
A daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
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Sweet! know you of gallant hearts perishing,—
The fine spirits that dumbly bow?
For a little of Fortune's cherishing,
They are breaking in agony now!
And without the sunshine that life needeth,
Alas! Sweet! for me and for you:
But little the careless world heedeth
For love like ours, tender and true!
A daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
The fine spirits that dumbly bow?
For a little of Fortune's cherishing,
They are breaking in agony now!
And without the sunshine that life needeth,
Alas! Sweet! for me and for you:
But little the careless world heedeth
For love like ours, tender and true!
A daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
Well, you've sworn, I have sworn, God hath bound us,
And the world shall not tear us apart:
I have flung my love's war-cloak around us,
And you live in each pulse of my heart!
It may be our name in Earth's story
Shall endure when we are no more;
For love lives while the Stars burn in glory,
And the Flowers bud on Earth's green floor.
But a daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
And the world shall not tear us apart:
I have flung my love's war-cloak around us,
And you live in each pulse of my heart!
It may be our name in Earth's story
Shall endure when we are no more;
For love lives while the Stars burn in glory,
And the Flowers bud on Earth's green floor.
But a daring high soul you will need, dear Love,
To brave the life-battle with me:
For your true heart may oftentimes bleed, dear Love,
And your sweet eyes dim tearfully.
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A POOR MAN'S WIFE.
Her dainty hand nestled in mine, wee and white,
And timid as trembling dove;
And it twinkled about me, a jewel of light,
As she garnished our banquet of love:
'Twas the queenliest hand in all lady-land,
And she but a poor Man's wife!
O! little I dreamed how that dainty white hand
Could dare in the battle of Life.
And timid as trembling dove;
And it twinkled about me, a jewel of light,
As she garnished our banquet of love:
'Twas the queenliest hand in all lady-land,
And she but a poor Man's wife!
O! little I dreamed how that dainty white hand
Could dare in the battle of Life.
Her heart it was lowly as maiden's might be,
But hath climbed to heroic height,
And burned like a shield in defence of me,
On the field of sorest fight!
And startling as fire, it hath often flashed up
In her eyes, the good heart and rare;
As she drank down her half of our bitterest cup,
And taught me how to bear.
But hath climbed to heroic height,
And burned like a shield in defence of me,
On the field of sorest fight!
And startling as fire, it hath often flashed up
In her eyes, the good heart and rare;
As she drank down her half of our bitterest cup,
And taught me how to bear.
Her sweet eyes that seemed, with their smile sublime,
Made to look me and light me to heaven,
They have triumphed through bitter tears many a time,
Since their love to my life was given:
And the maiden-meek voice of the womanly Wife
Still bringeth the heavens nigher;
For it rings like the voice of God over my life,
Aye bidding me climb up higher.
Made to look me and light me to heaven,
They have triumphed through bitter tears many a time,
Since their love to my life was given:
And the maiden-meek voice of the womanly Wife
Still bringeth the heavens nigher;
For it rings like the voice of God over my life,
Aye bidding me climb up higher.
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I hardly dared think it was human, when
I first looked in that glorified face;
For it shone as the heavens had opened then,
And clad it with splendour and grace!
But dearer the innermost light of it grew
In our dark and most desolate day,
As the Rainbow, when heaven hath no break of blue,
Smileth the storm away.
I first looked in that glorified face;
For it shone as the heavens had opened then,
And clad it with splendour and grace!
But dearer the innermost light of it grew
In our dark and most desolate day,
As the Rainbow, when heaven hath no break of blue,
Smileth the storm away.
'Twas a shape of the lithest Loveliness,—
Just an armful of heaven to enfold!
But the form that bends flower-like in love's caress,
With the Victor's strength may be souled!
In the light of her presence transfigured I stand,
And the poor Man's English home
She fills with the Beauty of Greece the grand,
Or the fairest Madonna in Rome.
Just an armful of heaven to enfold!
But the form that bends flower-like in love's caress,
With the Victor's strength may be souled!
In the light of her presence transfigured I stand,
And the poor Man's English home
She fills with the Beauty of Greece the grand,
Or the fairest Madonna in Rome.
MY BONNY LADY.
You say Eve gave her Daughters to restore
The Eden that their Mother lost of yore;
They lead us through the Angel-guarded door,
And where they smile it blooms for evermore?
Then Dearest of Eve's Daughters dear is she
Who makes an Eden in my Home for me;
My Bonny Lady.
The Eden that their Mother lost of yore;
They lead us through the Angel-guarded door,
And where they smile it blooms for evermore?
Then Dearest of Eve's Daughters dear is she
Who makes an Eden in my Home for me;
My Bonny Lady.
No seeming beauty perilous to know,
Like dream of ripeness on the sour sloe,
But sweet to the true heart as summer fruit,
And sound and strong to love's most secret root;
A soul made human by its kindling life!
A woman ripened to the perfect Wife!
My Bonny Lady.
Like dream of ripeness on the sour sloe,
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And sound and strong to love's most secret root;
A soul made human by its kindling life!
A woman ripened to the perfect Wife!
My Bonny Lady.
She grows in graces as the flowers bloom;
Her robe of beauty woven in Heaven's loom!
She wears her jewels in her lips and eyes:
Diamond sparks! warm rubies! pearls of price!
And see what shapely sweetness may be shown
Supremely, in a simple morning gown!
My Bonny Lady.
Her robe of beauty woven in Heaven's loom!
She wears her jewels in her lips and eyes:
Diamond sparks! warm rubies! pearls of price!
And see what shapely sweetness may be shown
Supremely, in a simple morning gown!
My Bonny Lady.
Upon her dear brow is no band of care
That binds the heavy burden souls must bear;
The dew of childhood's Heaven yet lingering lies
Cool in the shadows of her morning eyes;
So may some spirit in its brightness wait
With welcome at the beautiful heaven-gate.
My Bonny Lady.
That binds the heavy burden souls must bear;
The dew of childhood's Heaven yet lingering lies
Cool in the shadows of her morning eyes;
So may some spirit in its brightness wait
With welcome at the beautiful heaven-gate.
My Bonny Lady.
Eyelids once lifted with the kiss of Love,
Droop tender after as the brooding dove!
Lips, when the soul of joy is tasted, will
Hush its loud sound of laughter, and be still.
Yet is she happy as the lark that sings,
Winnowing out the music with its wings;
My Bonny Lady.
Droop tender after as the brooding dove!
Lips, when the soul of joy is tasted, will
Hush its loud sound of laughter, and be still.
Yet is she happy as the lark that sings,
Winnowing out the music with its wings;
My Bonny Lady.
Lo, how she bows with soft and settled bliss,
Over her babe in breathing tenderness!
Her image my Madonna bends above,
To mingle One in my heart's sea of Love!
Thus hath she doubled love and Love's caress,
With doubled blessing, doubled power to bless.
My Bonny Lady.
Over her babe in breathing tenderness!
Her image my Madonna bends above,
To mingle One in my heart's sea of Love!
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With doubled blessing, doubled power to bless.
My Bonny Lady.
Her smile the sum of sweetness infinite!
Her neck a throne where many graces sit!
Like music of the soul her motion is,
But none can know the inner sanctities;
Outside they stand in wonder, I alone,
Pass in adoring at the spirit-throne.
My Bonny Lady.
Her neck a throne where many graces sit!
Like music of the soul her motion is,
But none can know the inner sanctities;
Outside they stand in wonder, I alone,
Pass in adoring at the spirit-throne.
My Bonny Lady.
Behold her in religious lustre stand,
Clothed all in white and fit for spirit-land!
Her thankful eyes uplift for angel food;
And you might worship her, so pure, so good;
For all shy beauty, all sweet shadowy grace,
Breaks into brightness through my Lady's face;
My Bonny Lady.
Clothed all in white and fit for spirit-land!
Her thankful eyes uplift for angel food;
And you might worship her, so pure, so good;
For all shy beauty, all sweet shadowy grace,
Breaks into brightness through my Lady's face;
My Bonny Lady.
I think of her and mine eyes softly close
While all my heart with sweetness overflows;
Each breath it breathes in blessing sets astir
Some gracious balm, and sweet as hidden myrrh.
My Rest while toiling up the hill of life!
A Halfway House to Heaven! my Angel-Wife!
My Bonny Lady.
While all my heart with sweetness overflows;
Each breath it breathes in blessing sets astir
Some gracious balm, and sweet as hidden myrrh.
My Rest while toiling up the hill of life!
A Halfway House to Heaven! my Angel-Wife!
My Bonny Lady.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
Proudly I stood in the rare Sunrise,
As the dawn of your beauty brake;
But I feared for the storm, as I looked at the skies,
And trembled for your sweet sake!
And O, may the evil days come not, I said,
As I yearned o'er my tender blossom:
Strong arm of love! shelter the dearest one's head;
And I nestled you deep in my bosom.
May the tears never dim the love-light of her eye,—
May her Life be all Spring-weather!—
Was the prayer of my heart, ere you, Love, and I,
Were Husband and Wife together.
As the dawn of your beauty brake;
But I feared for the storm, as I looked at the skies,
And trembled for your sweet sake!
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As I yearned o'er my tender blossom:
Strong arm of love! shelter the dearest one's head;
And I nestled you deep in my bosom.
May the tears never dim the love-light of her eye,—
May her Life be all Spring-weather!—
Was the prayer of my heart, ere you, Love, and I,
Were Husband and Wife together.
But the suns will shine, and the rains will fall,
On the loftiest, lowliest spot!
And there's mourning and merriment mingled for all
That inherit the human lot.
So we've suffered and sorrowed and grown more strong,
Heart-to-heart, side-to-side, we have striven,
With the love that is summer-tide all the year long,
And the spirit that makes its own heaven!
We clung the more close as the storm swept by,
We kept the nest warm in cold weather;
And seldom we've faltered since you, Love, and I,
Have been Husband and Wife together!
On the loftiest, lowliest spot!
And there's mourning and merriment mingled for all
That inherit the human lot.
So we've suffered and sorrowed and grown more strong,
Heart-to-heart, side-to-side, we have striven,
With the love that is summer-tide all the year long,
And the spirit that makes its own heaven!
We clung the more close as the storm swept by,
We kept the nest warm in cold weather;
And seldom we've faltered since you, Love, and I,
Have been Husband and Wife together!
Like the sweet happy flowers of the wilderness,
You have dwelt life to life with Nature;
And caught the wild beauty and grace of her ways,
And grown to her heavenlier stature!
In prospering calm, and in quickening strife,
Hath your womanly worth unfolden;
And sunshine and shower have enriched your life,
And ripened its harvest golden.
There is good in the grimmest cloud o' the sky,
There are blessings in wintry weather:
Even Grief hath its glory, since you, Love, and I,
Have been Husband and Wife together.
You have dwelt life to life with Nature;
And caught the wild beauty and grace of her ways,
And grown to her heavenlier stature!
In prospering calm, and in quickening strife,
Hath your womanly worth unfolden;
And sunshine and shower have enriched your life,
And ripened its harvest golden.
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There are blessings in wintry weather:
Even Grief hath its glory, since you, Love, and I,
Have been Husband and Wife together.
O, Life is not perfect with Love's first kiss:
Who winneth the blessing must wrestle;
And the deeper the trouble, the dearer the bliss,
That may in the core of it nestle!
Our Angels oft greet us in tearful guise,
Our saviours will come in sorrow:
While the murkiest midnight that frowns from the skies,
Is at heart a radiant Morrow!
We laugh and we cry, we sing and we sigh,
And Life will have wintry weather!
So we'll hope, and love on, since you, Love, and I,
Are Husband and Wife together.
Who winneth the blessing must wrestle;
And the deeper the trouble, the dearer the bliss,
That may in the core of it nestle!
Our Angels oft greet us in tearful guise,
Our saviours will come in sorrow:
While the murkiest midnight that frowns from the skies,
Is at heart a radiant Morrow!
We laugh and we cry, we sing and we sigh,
And Life will have wintry weather!
So we'll hope, and love on, since you, Love, and I,
Are Husband and Wife together.
WHEN I COME HOME.
Around me Life's hell of fierce Ardours burns,
When I come home, when I come home;
Over me Heav'n starry-heartedly yearns,
When I come home, when I come home.
For a feast of Gods garnished, the palace of Night
At a thousand star-windows is throbbing with light.
London makes mirth! but I think God hears
The sobs in the dark, and the dropping of tears;
For I feel that He listens down Night's great dome:
When I come home, when I come home;
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
When I come home, when I come home;
Over me Heav'n starry-heartedly yearns,
When I come home, when I come home.
For a feast of Gods garnished, the palace of Night
At a thousand star-windows is throbbing with light.
London makes mirth! but I think God hears
The sobs in the dark, and the dropping of tears;
For I feel that He listens down Night's great dome:
When I come home, when I come home;
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
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I walk under Midnight's triumphal arch,
When I come home, when I come home;
Exulting with life like a Conqueror's march,
When I come home, when I come home.
I pass by the vast-chambered mansions that shine,
Overflowing with splendour like flagons with wine:
I have fought, I have vanquished the dragon of Toil,
And before me my golden Hesperides smile!
And O but Love's Apples make rich the gloam,
When I come home, when I come home!
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
When I come home, when I come home;
Exulting with life like a Conqueror's march,
When I come home, when I come home.
I pass by the vast-chambered mansions that shine,
Overflowing with splendour like flagons with wine:
I have fought, I have vanquished the dragon of Toil,
And before me my golden Hesperides smile!
And O but Love's Apples make rich the gloam,
When I come home, when I come home!
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
O the sweet, merry mouths will up-turn to be kissed,
When I come home, when I come home!
How the younglings yearn from the hungry nest,
When I come home, when I come home!
My weary, worn heart into sweetness is stirred,
And it dances and sings like a singing Bird,
On the branch nighest heaven,—a-top of my life:
As She meets me and greets me, my welcoming Wife!
And her pale cheek is tinted with tenderest bloom,
When I come home, when I come home;
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
When I come home, when I come home!
How the younglings yearn from the hungry nest,
When I come home, when I come home!
My weary, worn heart into sweetness is stirred,
And it dances and sings like a singing Bird,
On the branch nighest heaven,—a-top of my life:
As She meets me and greets me, my welcoming Wife!
And her pale cheek is tinted with tenderest bloom,
When I come home, when I come home;
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
Clouds furl off the shining face of my life,
When I come home, when I come home,
And leave heaven bare on her bosom, sweet Wife,
When I come home, when I come home.
With her brave smiling Energies,—Faith warm and bright,—
With love glorified and serenely alight,—
With her womanly beauty and queenliest calm,
She steals to my heart in a blessing of balm;
And O but the wine of Love sparkles with foam,
When I come home, when I come home!
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
When I come home, when I come home,
And leave heaven bare on her bosom, sweet Wife,
When I come home, when I come home.
With her brave smiling Energies,—Faith warm and bright,—
With love glorified and serenely alight,—
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She steals to my heart in a blessing of balm;
And O but the wine of Love sparkles with foam,
When I come home, when I come home!
Home, home, when I come home,
Late in the night when I come home.
LOVE'S FAIRY-RING.
While Titans war with social Jove,
My own sweet Wife and I,
We make Elysium in our love,
And let the world go by!
O never hearts beat half so light
With crownèd Queen or King!
O never world was half so bright
As is our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
My own sweet Wife and I,
We make Elysium in our love,
And let the world go by!
O never hearts beat half so light
With crownèd Queen or King!
O never world was half so bright
As is our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
Our world of empire is not large,
But priceless wealth it holds;
A little heaven links marge to marge,
But what rich realms it folds!
And clasping all from outer strife
Sits Love with folded wing,
A-brood o'er dearer life-in-life,
Within our fairy ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
But priceless wealth it holds;
A little heaven links marge to marge,
But what rich realms it folds!
And clasping all from outer strife
Sits Love with folded wing,
A-brood o'er dearer life-in-life,
Within our fairy ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
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Thou leanest thy true heart on mine,
And bravely bearest up!
Aye mingling Love's most precious wine
In Life's most bitter cup!
And evermore the circling hours
New gifts of glory bring;
We live and love like happy flowers,
All in our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
And bravely bearest up!
Aye mingling Love's most precious wine
In Life's most bitter cup!
And evermore the circling hours
New gifts of glory bring;
We live and love like happy flowers,
All in our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
We've known a many sorrows, Sweet!
We've wept a many tears,
And often trod with trembling feet
Our pilgrimage of years.
But when our sky grew dark and wild,
All closelier did we cling:
Clouds broke to beauty as you smiled,
Peace crowned our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
We've wept a many tears,
And often trod with trembling feet
Our pilgrimage of years.
But when our sky grew dark and wild,
All closelier did we cling:
Clouds broke to beauty as you smiled,
Peace crowned our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
Away, you foes of heart and home;
Away, O Hate, and Strife!
Hence, revellers, reeling drunken from
Your feast of human life!
Heaven shield our little Goshen round,
From ills that with them spring,
And never be their footprints found
Within our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
Away, O Hate, and Strife!
Hence, revellers, reeling drunken from
Your feast of human life!
Heaven shield our little Goshen round,
From ills that with them spring,
And never be their footprints found
Within our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
But, come ye who the Truth dare own,
Or work in Love's dear name;
Come all who wear the Mystic's crown,
Or Martyr's robe of flame!
Sweet souls a heartless world may doom
Like Birds made blind to sing!
For such we'll aye make welcome room
Within our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
Or work in Love's dear name;
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Or Martyr's robe of flame!
Sweet souls a heartless world may doom
Like Birds made blind to sing!
For such we'll aye make welcome room
Within our fairy-ring,
Dear love!
Our hallowed fairy-ring.
TO THE BELOVED ONE.
Heaven hath its crown of Stars, the Earth
Her glory-robe of flowers—
The Sea its pearls—the grand old Woods
Their songs and greening showers:
The Birds have homes, where leaves and blooms
In beauty wreathe above;
High yearning hearts, their rainbow-dream—
And we, Sweet! we have love.
Her glory-robe of flowers—
The Sea its pearls—the grand old Woods
Their songs and greening showers:
The Birds have homes, where leaves and blooms
In beauty wreathe above;
High yearning hearts, their rainbow-dream—
And we, Sweet! we have love.
We walk not with the worldly Great,
Where Love's dear name is sold;
Yet have we wealth we would not give
For all their mines of gold!
We revel not in Corn and Wine,
Yet have we from above
Manna divine, and will not pine,
While we may live and love.
Where Love's dear name is sold;
Yet have we wealth we would not give
For all their mines of gold!
We revel not in Corn and Wine,
Yet have we from above
Manna divine, and will not pine,
While we may live and love.
There's sorrow for the toiling poor,
On Misery's bosom nursed:
Rich robes for ragged souls, and Crowns
For branded brows Cain-cursed!
But Cherubim, with clasping wings,
Ever about us be,
And, happiest of God's happy things!
There's love for you and me.
On Misery's bosom nursed:
Rich robes for ragged souls, and Crowns
For branded brows Cain-cursed!
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Ever about us be,
And, happiest of God's happy things!
There's love for you and me.
Thy lips, that kiss till death, have turned
Life's water into wine;
The sweet life melting through thy looks
Hath made my life divine.
All Love's dear promise hath been kept,
Since thou to me wert given;
A ladder for my soul to climb,
And summer high in heaven.
Life's water into wine;
The sweet life melting through thy looks
Hath made my life divine.
All Love's dear promise hath been kept,
Since thou to me wert given;
A ladder for my soul to climb,
And summer high in heaven.
I know, dear heart! that in our lot
May mingle tears and sorrow;
But, Love's rich Rainbow's built from tears
To-day, with smiles To-morrow.
The sunshine from our sky may die,
The greenness from Life's tree,
But ever, 'mid the warring storm,
Thy nest shall sheltered be.
May mingle tears and sorrow;
But, Love's rich Rainbow's built from tears
To-day, with smiles To-morrow.
The sunshine from our sky may die,
The greenness from Life's tree,
But ever, 'mid the warring storm,
Thy nest shall sheltered be.
I see thee! Ararat of my life,
Smiling the waves above!
Thou hail'st me Victor in the strife,
And beacon'st me with love.
The world may never know, dear heart!
What I have found in thee;
But, though nought to the world, dear heart!
Thou'rt all the world to me.
Smiling the waves above!
Thou hail'st me Victor in the strife,
And beacon'st me with love.
The world may never know, dear heart!
What I have found in thee;
But, though nought to the world, dear heart!
Thou'rt all the world to me.
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MATRIMONY.
Two human Stars in passing areAttracted as through heaven they float;
Sometimes they form a double Star;
Sometimes they put each other out:
And sometimes one and one make three,
Our World's most perfect Trinity.
THE LOVE-LETTER.
The Lover felt a warm wave comingBefore her Written Message came;
The World within and round him blooming
Burst into a flower of fragrant flame:
As if with mouth to mouth he met her;
Or, as two Spirits meet above:
“If such a Wave foreran her letter,
How deep the ocean of her love.”
LOVE-IN-IDLENESS.
We sit serenely 'neath the night,
As still as stars with swift delight;
In tears, that show how in Life's deep
The hidden pearls of beauty sleep!
And quiet, as of sleeping trees,
And silence, as of dreaming seas.
The channels of our bliss run filled,
Their faintest happy murmur stilled.
As still as stars with swift delight;
In tears, that show how in Life's deep
The hidden pearls of beauty sleep!
And quiet, as of sleeping trees,
And silence, as of dreaming seas.
The channels of our bliss run filled,
Their faintest happy murmur stilled.
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Upon thy forehead rests my palm,
And on my spirit rests thy calm.
I cannot see thy cheek, but know
Its tint of rose-bloom hath a glow
Like ruby light, and richly lies
The dew i' the shadow of thine eyes:
Deep eyes! dear wells of tenderness,
That ask how they may soothliest bless!
And on my spirit rests thy calm.
I cannot see thy cheek, but know
Its tint of rose-bloom hath a glow
Like ruby light, and richly lies
The dew i' the shadow of thine eyes:
Deep eyes! dear wells of tenderness,
That ask how they may soothliest bless!
Warm incense like the soul o' the South,
Is round us, and thy damask mouth
With the sweet spirit of its breath,
Dissolves me in delicious death.
Musk-roses breathing in the gloom,
Drop fragrance fainting in the room;
Such sensuous sadness fills the air,
Ripe life a bloom of dew doth wear.
Is round us, and thy damask mouth
With the sweet spirit of its breath,
Dissolves me in delicious death.
Musk-roses breathing in the gloom,
Drop fragrance fainting in the room;
Such sensuous sadness fills the air,
Ripe life a bloom of dew doth wear.
The harping hand hath dulled the lyre
Of thrilling heartstrings—by their fire
That droops, the dreamy Passions doze
In large luxuriance of repose.
While we our fields of pleasure reap,
Our Babes lie in the wood of Sleep:
One, first love's dream of beauty wrought!
One the more perfect afterthought.
Of thrilling heartstrings—by their fire
That droops, the dreamy Passions doze
In large luxuriance of repose.
While we our fields of pleasure reap,
Our Babes lie in the wood of Sleep:
One, first love's dream of beauty wrought!
One the more perfect afterthought.
We sit with silent glory crowned,
And Love's arms wound like heaven round:
Or on rich clouds our spirits swim
The summer twilight cool and dim.
I only see—that thou art near;
I only feel—I have thee dear!
I only hear thy beating heart,
I only know we cannot part.
And Love's arms wound like heaven round:
Or on rich clouds our spirits swim
The summer twilight cool and dim.
I only see—that thou art near;
I only feel—I have thee dear!
I only hear thy beating heart,
I only know we cannot part.
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A BALLAD OF THE OLD TIME.
Sweet Night, drop down from thy starry bower
Thy influence dewily mild;
Softly bend over my love's tender flower,
As a Mother bends over her child.
Hush the hills in a deep, dark dream;
To slumber stretch valley and lea;
Fold over all thy purple and pall,
And bring my Love to me.
Thy influence dewily mild;
Softly bend over my love's tender flower,
As a Mother bends over her child.
Hush the hills in a deep, dark dream;
To slumber stretch valley and lea;
Fold over all thy purple and pall,
And bring my Love to me.
You white witching Moon, with your beautiful smile;
You flowers that fondle his feet;
You weird wee Women of fairyland, wile
Not my Love with your kisses sweet.
For him my bower in the old gray tower
Is dighted and dainty to see:
All gentle Powers that walk the night-hours,
Hasten my Love to me.
You flowers that fondle his feet;
You weird wee Women of fairyland, wile
Not my Love with your kisses sweet.
For him my bower in the old gray tower
Is dighted and dainty to see:
All gentle Powers that walk the night-hours,
Hasten my Love to me.
I count my love's rosary over again,
With its feelings and fancies and fears;
Till it breaks in my brain with the tension of pain,
And my pearls are but trembling tears!
I sorrow and sing with the thorn at my breast;
Mine eyes watch unweariedly:
Come crown them, and calm them, and kiss them to rest;
Dear my Love, hasten to me.
With its feelings and fancies and fears;
Till it breaks in my brain with the tension of pain,
And my pearls are but trembling tears!
I sorrow and sing with the thorn at my breast;
Mine eyes watch unweariedly:
Come crown them, and calm them, and kiss them to rest;
Dear my Love, hasten to me.
The ripe swelling buds that are quickened with spring,
Will peep from their silken fold;
And my broidered belt is too short to cling
Round my waist with its girdling gold.
But my Love he will bring the plain gold ring;
Base-born his Babe shall not be!
Leal is his love as the heaven above:
He never will lightly me.
Will peep from their silken fold;
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Round my waist with its girdling gold.
But my Love he will bring the plain gold ring;
Base-born his Babe shall not be!
Leal is his love as the heaven above:
He never will lightly me.
My Love he hath little of silver or gold;
Of land he hath never a sod;
But my Love is a gay gallant gentleman—
He's a king by the grace of God.
He has borne up the battle-tide broadsword in hand!
He is comely as any ladye!
O and were I a King's daughter,
None other should marry me.
Of land he hath never a sod;
But my Love is a gay gallant gentleman—
He's a king by the grace of God.
He has borne up the battle-tide broadsword in hand!
He is comely as any ladye!
O and were I a King's daughter,
None other should marry me.
My Love shall not wait at the Castle-gate,
My Love shall not tirl at the pin;
My Love he will climb to my bower-window;
Sing O, but my Love shall come in.
The dragon below lieth weary and old,
Sleeping all under the tree;
While I feast my Love on the apples of gold—
But soft! He is coming to me.
My Love shall not tirl at the pin;
My Love he will climb to my bower-window;
Sing O, but my Love shall come in.
The dragon below lieth weary and old,
Sleeping all under the tree;
While I feast my Love on the apples of gold—
But soft! He is coming to me.
IN THE NIGHT.
Earth like a Lady poor and low
Adores Night's kingly beauty now,
While I, on fire in breast and brow,
Awake to weep for thee, Love!
The distant glories of the night,
The Moon that walks in soft white light,
These cannot win my charmèd sight,
Nor lure a thought from thee, Love.
Adores Night's kingly beauty now,
While I, on fire in breast and brow,
Awake to weep for thee, Love!
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The Moon that walks in soft white light,
These cannot win my charmèd sight,
Nor lure a thought from thee, Love.
I'm thinking of the short sweet hour
Our fond hearts felt Love's growth of power,
And summered as in Eden's bower
When I was blest with thee, Love!
There burned no beauty on the trees,
There woke no song of birds or bees,
But Love's cup for us held no lees,
And I was blest with thee, Love.
Our fond hearts felt Love's growth of power,
And summered as in Eden's bower
When I was blest with thee, Love!
There burned no beauty on the trees,
There woke no song of birds or bees,
But Love's cup for us held no lees,
And I was blest with thee, Love.
Then many-coloured fancies spring
From out my heart on splendid wing,
Like Chrysalis from Life's wintering,
Burst bright and summeringly, Love!
And as a Chief of battle lost
Counts, and recounts his stricken host,
Stands tearful Memory making most
Of all that's touched with thee, Love.
From out my heart on splendid wing,
Like Chrysalis from Life's wintering,
Burst bright and summeringly, Love!
And as a Chief of battle lost
Counts, and recounts his stricken host,
Stands tearful Memory making most
Of all that's touched with thee, Love.
Perhaps in Pleasure's brilliant bower
Thy heart may half forget Love's power,
But at this still and starry hour
Does it not turn to me, Love?
O, by all pangs for thy sweet sake,
In my deep love thy heart-thirst slake,
Or, all-too-full, my heart must break:
Break! break! with loving thee, Love!
Thy heart may half forget Love's power,
But at this still and starry hour
Does it not turn to me, Love?
O, by all pangs for thy sweet sake,
In my deep love thy heart-thirst slake,
Or, all-too-full, my heart must break:
Break! break! with loving thee, Love!
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FALLEN.
As the White Snow crowns the Hills, and the arms of Ether fills,With the lustre of its loveliness—a presence as of light,
And it looks up in Heaven's face with all a Virgin's trusting grace:
So the Maiden walked on Purity's white height.
But the Snow will blush for bliss, at the red Dawn's fervent kiss;
And fall from its high throne, and lose the brightness from its brow;
And be trodden on the highways, and be trampled in the by-ways:
So the Maiden's life is stained and trampled now.
DESERTED.
Love came to me in a golden cloud,
With a rosy glory kissed;
And caught me up, and in heaven we rode,
Till it melted in mournful mist.
Gone! gone! is the light that shone,
With the dream of my earlier day:
And the wild winds moan; alone! alone!
I wander my weary way.
With a rosy glory kissed;
And caught me up, and in heaven we rode,
Till it melted in mournful mist.
Gone! gone! is the light that shone,
With the dream of my earlier day:
And the wild winds moan; alone! alone!
I wander my weary way.
The days come and go, and the seasons roll,—
In their glory they pass me by;
And the lords of life and the happy in soul
Walk under a smiling sky.
And the sweet spring-tide comes back to us o'er
The soothèd winter sea;
But He will return no more, no more,
Never come back to me.
In their glory they pass me by;
And the lords of life and the happy in soul
Walk under a smiling sky.
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The soothèd winter sea;
But He will return no more, no more,
Never come back to me.
It were better that I lay sleeping
With his baby upon my breast,
Where the weary have done with their weeping,
And the wretched are rocked to their rest.
The world is a desolate, dreary one,
Full of sad tears at best:
God, take back Thy wandering weary one,
Like a wounded bird home to its nest.
With his baby upon my breast,
Where the weary have done with their weeping,
And the wretched are rocked to their rest.
The world is a desolate, dreary one,
Full of sad tears at best:
God, take back Thy wandering weary one,
Like a wounded bird home to its nest.
DROWNED.
'Tis Midnight hour and the Dead have power
Over the Wronger now!
He is tortured and torn till the coming of morn;
Pierced to the heart with the Crown of thorn
That he set on the Suicide's brow.
Over the Wronger now!
He is tortured and torn till the coming of morn;
Pierced to the heart with the Crown of thorn
That he set on the Suicide's brow.
Wind him around in the toil of your charms;
Nestle him close, young Bride!
At the Midnight hour he is drawn from your arms;
Through the dark with the Dead he must ride!
Nestle him close, young Bride!
At the Midnight hour he is drawn from your arms;
Through the dark with the Dead he must ride!
Spirit from body is consciously drawn;
Death comes not to kindly unsheathe;
And the closer you cling the more anguish you wring
From the form you so fondly enwreathe!
Death comes not to kindly unsheathe;
And the closer you cling the more anguish you wring
From the form you so fondly enwreathe!
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The rose of her mouth is red-wet, red-warm,
She smiles in her haven of calm!
Troubled and tossed and lashed by the Lost,
Slumber for him hath no balm!
She smiles in her haven of calm!
Troubled and tossed and lashed by the Lost,
Slumber for him hath no balm!
Again that ghostly groping along
The Corridor of Dreams!
And a dark Desolation luridly lit
Is his face by Lightning gleams!
The Corridor of Dreams!
And a dark Desolation luridly lit
Is his face by Lightning gleams!
Love's cup flushes up for his crowning kiss,
But, with his lip at the brim,
The Dead uncurtain his bower of bliss,
Stretching their arms for him!
But, with his lip at the brim,
The Dead uncurtain his bower of bliss,
Stretching their arms for him!
Wind him around in the toil of your charms;
Nestle him close, young Bride!
Yet, at Midnight hour he is torn from your arms;
Through the dark with the Dead he must ride:
Nestle him close, young Bride!
Yet, at Midnight hour he is torn from your arms;
Through the dark with the Dead he must ride:
And the Dark, ah, the Dark! hath a million Eyes,
All of his secret tell!
And whispering winds pursue him like fiends
That hiss in his ears of Hell!
All of his secret tell!
And whispering winds pursue him like fiends
That hiss in his ears of Hell!
Warm in her bed the young Bride lies,
Breathing her peaceful breath:
Dead Mother and Babe with their drownèd eyes
Stare dim through the watery death.
Breathing her peaceful breath:
Dead Mother and Babe with their drownèd eyes
Stare dim through the watery death.
'Tis Midnight hour and the Dead have power
Over the Wronger now!
He is tortured and torn till the coming of morn;
Pierced to the heart with the Crown of thorn
That he set on the Suicide's brow.
Over the Wronger now!
He is tortured and torn till the coming of morn;
Pierced to the heart with the Crown of thorn
That he set on the Suicide's brow.
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JILTED.
Well! Friend! this arrow hath missed its mark,
But, Man! you have more in your quiver.
All over no doubt with your Pleasure-bark,
But swim like a lusty liver!
A-top of some Ararat next the skies
You shall clap your wings and crow;
Higher and higher your spirits will rise
While the Deluge is ebbing below.
Thank God some First Loves do miscarry,
Men frequently say when they come to marry.
But, Man! you have more in your quiver.
All over no doubt with your Pleasure-bark,
But swim like a lusty liver!
A-top of some Ararat next the skies
You shall clap your wings and crow;
Higher and higher your spirits will rise
While the Deluge is ebbing below.
Thank God some First Loves do miscarry,
Men frequently say when they come to marry.
Very likely she had some love for you!
Some love till death doth sever:
And some for a Month or a Year or two,
And some they say for ever.
Your love would have lasted, no doubt, my brother,
That at least was eternal:
We all think so, one time or other,
While very young and vernal.
But you might not have found your heaven within
The pretty blue eyes you so wanted to win.
Some love till death doth sever:
And some for a Month or a Year or two,
And some they say for ever.
Your love would have lasted, no doubt, my brother,
That at least was eternal:
We all think so, one time or other,
While very young and vernal.
But you might not have found your heaven within
The pretty blue eyes you so wanted to win.
The Learned will tell you those beautiful eyes
Of witching, bewildering blue,
Are as drumlie waters, or earth-made skies,
Or un-rinsed linen in hue!
For want of clearness their charm is given,
And hearts are whirled away;
Blue is not the Natural colour of heaven
Where dwelleth the perfect day,—
And the woman you thought you were loving, looked through
Far other eyes than you worshipped, at you!
Of witching, bewildering blue,
Are as drumlie waters, or earth-made skies,
Or un-rinsed linen in hue!
For want of clearness their charm is given,
And hearts are whirled away;
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Where dwelleth the perfect day,—
And the woman you thought you were loving, looked through
Far other eyes than you worshipped, at you!
Yes, I know how you stood all a-flame for her,
Your heart of hearts to fill;
I know how you hardly dared to stir
Lest your delight should spill;
Then came the clap on the back, my Friend,
That made the dreamer start,
And, at the awakening whack, my Friend
Found he had lost his heart.
Pass on, nor loiter with longing eye,
'Tis no use looking, unable to buy.
Your heart of hearts to fill;
I know how you hardly dared to stir
Lest your delight should spill;
Then came the clap on the back, my Friend,
That made the dreamer start,
And, at the awakening whack, my Friend
Found he had lost his heart.
Pass on, nor loiter with longing eye,
'Tis no use looking, unable to buy.
You say that she gave you kiss for kiss;
But that is no promise of marriage.
Surely you know in a world like this
A Lady must ride in her carriage?
Although, like a lane I saw last spring,
The way of her life should go,—
One side with violets blossoming,
The other white-wintry with snow.
Of saffron the Greek wedding-robe was of old,
Parents in England prefer it in gold.
But that is no promise of marriage.
Surely you know in a world like this
A Lady must ride in her carriage?
Although, like a lane I saw last spring,
The way of her life should go,—
One side with violets blossoming,
The other white-wintry with snow.
Of saffron the Greek wedding-robe was of old,
Parents in England prefer it in gold.
The old love wasn't the true love;
That you have plainly proved.
Be turning your thoughts to a new love,
Somebody waits to be loved;
Somebody patiently waiting for you,
And the purified love you can give her,
With a soul full of love as the summer dew
Is of sun with its kiss all a-quiver.
To keep the ghost from your vacant chair,
Nothing like nestling a warm wife there.
That you have plainly proved.
Be turning your thoughts to a new love,
Somebody waits to be loved;
Somebody patiently waiting for you,
And the purified love you can give her,
209
Is of sun with its kiss all a-quiver.
To keep the ghost from your vacant chair,
Nothing like nestling a warm wife there.
Do not be wasting the rest of your wine
By pouring it out in the dust.
What of your faith, old comrade of mine,
Can you take your trial on trust?
The knife is sharp and the flesh must shrink,
But, as in the mythical day,
God often perfects the Manhood I think
By cutting the Woman away.
He takes but a Spare-rib and gives you a Wife,
With a heart beating warm in her, life of your life.
By pouring it out in the dust.
What of your faith, old comrade of mine,
Can you take your trial on trust?
The knife is sharp and the flesh must shrink,
But, as in the mythical day,
God often perfects the Manhood I think
By cutting the Woman away.
He takes but a Spare-rib and gives you a Wife,
With a heart beating warm in her, life of your life.
LOVE AND THE LADY.
'Twere vain to ask that one so cold should giveThe vital warmth of heart that makes Love live;
But in thy bosom leave a little room
For Love to die in; marble for a Tomb!
To be imparadised he doth but crave
That she who was his death may be his grave:
The monumental mockery of a Wife,
For ever hard and cold and like to life:
Thus, when the winged Divinity hath flown,
We prize the old Greek statue of Love in stone.
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ICHABOD.
Seven Summers' Suns have set! the world is once more sweetly flooded
With fragrance, for the virgin-leaves and violet-banks have budded:
Heaven claspeth Earth, as round the heart first broodeth Love's rich glow;
A blush of Flowers is mantling where the lush green grasses grow!
All things feel summering sunward, golden tides stream down the air,
Which burns, as Angel-visitants had left a glory there!
But darkness on my aching spirit shrouds the merry shine,—
I long to feel a gush of Spring in this poor heart of mine.
With fragrance, for the virgin-leaves and violet-banks have budded:
Heaven claspeth Earth, as round the heart first broodeth Love's rich glow;
A blush of Flowers is mantling where the lush green grasses grow!
All things feel summering sunward, golden tides stream down the air,
Which burns, as Angel-visitants had left a glory there!
But darkness on my aching spirit shrouds the merry shine,—
I long to feel a gush of Spring in this poor heart of mine.
Morn opes Heaven's secret portal, back the pearly gates are drawn,
And all the fields of glory blossom with the crimson Dawn:
But never comes thy clasping hand, or carol of thy lips,
That made my heart soar like a spirit freed from Death's eclipse.
Sweet voice! it came like magic music, healing angels make,
When pain sat heavy on my brow, and heart was like to break:
Methought such love gave wings to climb some starry throne to win;
Thou didst so lift up earth's horizon—letting heaven in.
And all the fields of glory blossom with the crimson Dawn:
But never comes thy clasping hand, or carol of thy lips,
That made my heart soar like a spirit freed from Death's eclipse.
Sweet voice! it came like magic music, healing angels make,
When pain sat heavy on my brow, and heart was like to break:
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Thou didst so lift up earth's horizon—letting heaven in.
I'm thinking, Darling, of the days when life was all divine,
And love was aye the silver cord that bound my heart to thine;
When life bloomed at thy coming, as the green earth greets the sun,
And, like two dew-drops in a kiss, our twin souls wed in one.
Ah! still I feel ye at my heart! and 'mid the stir and strife,
Ye sometimes lead my feet to walk the angel-side of Life:
The magic music yearns within, as unto thee I turn,
And those dear eyes, a-blaze with soul, through all my being burn.
And love was aye the silver cord that bound my heart to thine;
When life bloomed at thy coming, as the green earth greets the sun,
And, like two dew-drops in a kiss, our twin souls wed in one.
Ah! still I feel ye at my heart! and 'mid the stir and strife,
Ye sometimes lead my feet to walk the angel-side of Life:
The magic music yearns within, as unto thee I turn,
And those dear eyes, a-blaze with soul, through all my being burn.
Come back,—come back; I long to clasp thee in these arms, mine own;
Lavish my heart upon thy lips, and make my love the Crown
And Arc of Triumph to thy life. Why tarry? Time hath cast
Strange shadows on my spirit since we met and mingled last!
Yet there be joys to crown thee with; the sunshine and the sweet
Are hived, like honey, in my heart, to share them should we meet:
How I have hoarded up my life! how tenderly I strove
To make my heart fit home for thee, its nestling Bird of love!
Lavish my heart upon thy lips, and make my love the Crown
And Arc of Triumph to thy life. Why tarry? Time hath cast
Strange shadows on my spirit since we met and mingled last!
Yet there be joys to crown thee with; the sunshine and the sweet
Are hived, like honey, in my heart, to share them should we meet:
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To make my heart fit home for thee, its nestling Bird of love!
God bless thee! once the radiant world thy beauty crownlike wore,
But life hath lost the strange sweet feel that cometh never more!
The flowers will bud again in spring, and happy birds make love,
With melting hearts, a-brooding o'er their passion in the grove.
But thou wilt never more come back, to clothe my heart with spring;
Dear God! Love's sweetest chord is turned to Pain's most jarring string!
The Glory hath departed! and my spirit pants to go
Where, 'mid Life's troubled waters, 'twill not see the wreck below.
But life hath lost the strange sweet feel that cometh never more!
The flowers will bud again in spring, and happy birds make love,
With melting hearts, a-brooding o'er their passion in the grove.
But thou wilt never more come back, to clothe my heart with spring;
Dear God! Love's sweetest chord is turned to Pain's most jarring string!
The Glory hath departed! and my spirit pants to go
Where, 'mid Life's troubled waters, 'twill not see the wreck below.
A VILLAGE COURTING.
O shy and simple Village Girl,
With daisy-drooping eyes;
Like light asleep within the pearl,
Love in your young life lies.
A hundred times in meadow and lane
With careless hearts we walked;
But we shall never meet again,
And talk as we have talked.
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
With daisy-drooping eyes;
Like light asleep within the pearl,
Love in your young life lies.
A hundred times in meadow and lane
With careless hearts we walked;
But we shall never meet again,
And talk as we have talked.
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In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
When last I met you, tearful-meek
The emerald gloaming came;
Some veil fell from you, in your cheek
The live rose was aflame!
So distant and so dear you grew,
More near, yet more estranged,
And at your parting touch I knew
That all the world was changed.
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
The emerald gloaming came;
Some veil fell from you, in your cheek
The live rose was aflame!
So distant and so dear you grew,
More near, yet more estranged,
And at your parting touch I knew
That all the world was changed.
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
Your fairness haunts me all night long,
I walk in a dream by day;
My silent heart breaks into song,
And the prayerless kneels to pray.
Ten times a day the hot tears start,
For very pride of you:
Would God you were safe at home in my heart,
To rest the rough world through.
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
I walk in a dream by day;
My silent heart breaks into song,
And the prayerless kneels to pray.
Ten times a day the hot tears start,
For very pride of you:
Would God you were safe at home in my heart,
To rest the rough world through.
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell you what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
My heart! She comes by lane and stile,
With glances shy and sweet;
Making the sunlight with her smile,
And music with her feet.
Ah! could I clasp her in mine arm
Until she named the hour
When life should move from charm to charm,
And love from flower to flower!
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell her what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
With glances shy and sweet;
Making the sunlight with her smile,
And music with her feet.
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Until she named the hour
When life should move from charm to charm,
And love from flower to flower!
All in a moment life was crossed,
In a fairy spell I'm bound;
Yet fear to tell her what I've lost,
Or know what I have found.
ON A WEDDING-DAY.
Thus, hand in hand, and heart in heart,
Face nestling unto face,
Forgotten things like Spirits start
From many a hiding-place!
There is no sound of Babe or Bird,
And all the stillness seems
Sweet as the music only heard
Adown the land of dreams.
Face nestling unto face,
Forgotten things like Spirits start
From many a hiding-place!
There is no sound of Babe or Bird,
And all the stillness seems
Sweet as the music only heard
Adown the land of dreams.
And if, because it is so proud,
My heart will find a voice,
And in its dear dream love aloud,
And speak of sweet still joys,
It is no genuine gift of God,
But only Goblin Gold,
That withers into dead leaves, should
The secret tale be told.
My heart will find a voice,
And in its dear dream love aloud,
And speak of sweet still joys,
It is no genuine gift of God,
But only Goblin Gold,
That withers into dead leaves, should
The secret tale be told.
Nine years ago you came to me,
And nestled on my breast,
A soft and wingèd mystery
That settled here to rest;
And my heart rocked its Babe of bliss,
And soothed its child of air,
With something 'twixt a song and kiss,
To keep it nestling there.
And nestled on my breast,
A soft and wingèd mystery
That settled here to rest;
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And soothed its child of air,
With something 'twixt a song and kiss,
To keep it nestling there.
At first I thought the fairy form
Too spirit-soft and good
To fill my poor, low nest with warm
And wifely womanhood.
But such a cozy peep of home
Did your dear eyes unfold;
And in their deep and dewy gloom
What tales of love were told!
Too spirit-soft and good
To fill my poor, low nest with warm
And wifely womanhood.
But such a cozy peep of home
Did your dear eyes unfold;
And in their deep and dewy gloom
What tales of love were told!
In dreamy curves your beauty drooped,
As tendrils lean to twine,
And very graciously they stooped
To bear their fruit, my Vine!
To bear such blessed fruit of love
As tenderly increased
Among the ripe vine-branches of
Your balmy-breathing breast.
As tendrils lean to twine,
And very graciously they stooped
To bear their fruit, my Vine!
To bear such blessed fruit of love
As tenderly increased
Among the ripe vine-branches of
Your balmy-breathing breast.
We cannot boast to have bickered not
Since you and I were wed;
We have not lived the smoothest lot,
Nor made the downiest bed!
Time has not passed o'erhead in Stars,
And underfoot in flowers,
With wings that slept on fragrant airs
Through all the happy hours.
Since you and I were wed;
We have not lived the smoothest lot,
Nor made the downiest bed!
Time has not passed o'erhead in Stars,
And underfoot in flowers,
With wings that slept on fragrant airs
Through all the happy hours.
It is our way, more fate than fault,
Love's cloudy fire to clear,
To find some virtue in the salt
That sparkles in a tear!
Pray God it all come right at last,
Pray God it so befall,
That when our day of life is past
The end may crown it all.
Love's cloudy fire to clear,
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That sparkles in a tear!
Pray God it all come right at last,
Pray God it so befall,
That when our day of life is past
The end may crown it all.
Ah, Dear! though lives may pull apart
Down to the roots of love,
One thought will bend us heart to heart,
Till lips re-wed above!
One thought the knees of pride will bow
Down to the grave-yard sod;
You are the Mother of Angels now!
We have two babes with God.
Down to the roots of love,
One thought will bend us heart to heart,
Till lips re-wed above!
One thought the knees of pride will bow
Down to the grave-yard sod;
You are the Mother of Angels now!
We have two babes with God.
Cling closer, closer, for their loss,
About our darlings left,
And let their memories grow like moss
That healeth rent and rift;—
For his dear sake, our Soldier Boy,
For whom we nightly plead
That he may live for God, and die
For England in her need,—
About our darlings left,
And let their memories grow like moss
That healeth rent and rift;—
For his dear sake, our Soldier Boy,
For whom we nightly plead
That he may live for God, and die
For England in her need,—
For her, who like a dancing boat
Leaps o'er life's solemn waves,
Our little Lightheart who can float
And frolic over graves;
And Grace, who making music goes,
As in some shady place
A Brooklet, prattling to the boughs,
Looks up with its bright face.
Leaps o'er life's solemn waves,
Our little Lightheart who can float
And frolic over graves;
And Grace, who making music goes,
As in some shady place
A Brooklet, prattling to the boughs,
Looks up with its bright face.
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Cling closer, closer, life to life,
Cling closer, heart to heart;
The time will come; my own wed Wife,
When you and I must part!
Let nothing break our band but Death,
For in the worlds above
'Tis the breaker Death that soldereth
Our ring of Wedded Love.
Cling closer, heart to heart;
The time will come; my own wed Wife,
When you and I must part!
Let nothing break our band but Death,
For in the worlds above
'Tis the breaker Death that soldereth
Our ring of Wedded Love.
A LYRIC OF LOVE.
The Bird that nestles nearest earth,
To Heaven's gate nighest sings;
And loving thee, my lowly life
Doth mount on Lark-like wings!
Thine eyes are starry promises:
And affluent above
All measure in its blessing, is
The largess of thy love.
To Heaven's gate nighest sings;
And loving thee, my lowly life
Doth mount on Lark-like wings!
Thine eyes are starry promises:
And affluent above
All measure in its blessing, is
The largess of thy love.
Merry as laughter 'mong the hills,
Spring dances at my heart!
And at my wooing, Nature's soul
Into her face will start!
The Queen-moon, in her starry bower,
Looks happier for our love;
A dewier splendour fills the flower,
And mellower coos the Dove.
Spring dances at my heart!
And at my wooing, Nature's soul
Into her face will start!
The Queen-moon, in her starry bower,
Looks happier for our love;
A dewier splendour fills the flower,
And mellower coos the Dove.
My heart may sometimes blind mine eyes
With utterance of tears,
But feels no pang for thee, Beloved!
But all the more endears:
And if life comes with cross and care
Unknown in years of yore,
Lest thou shouldst half the burthen bear,
I shall be strong once more.
With utterance of tears,
But feels no pang for thee, Beloved!
But all the more endears:
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Unknown in years of yore,
Lest thou shouldst half the burthen bear,
I shall be strong once more.
Ah! now I see my life was shorn,
That, like the forest-brook
When leaves are shed, my darkling soul
Up in heaven's face might look!
And blessings on the storm that gave
Me haven on thy breast,
Where life hath climaxed like a wave
That breaks in perfect rest.
That, like the forest-brook
When leaves are shed, my darkling soul
Up in heaven's face might look!
And blessings on the storm that gave
Me haven on thy breast,
Where life hath climaxed like a wave
That breaks in perfect rest.
AT EVENTIDE.
I sit beneath my shadowing Palm,
All in the green o' the day at rest:
And pictured in a sea of calm,
The Past arises in my breast.
The winter world takes leafy wing
In that sweet April-tide of ours;
And hidden Love lies listening,
Where nodding smile the bridal flowers.
All in the green o' the day at rest:
And pictured in a sea of calm,
The Past arises in my breast.
The winter world takes leafy wing
In that sweet April-tide of ours;
And hidden Love lies listening,
Where nodding smile the bridal flowers.
I sing, and shut mine eyes and dream
I hear her singing, my young Bride!
Who on a-sudden from Life's stream
Rose Swan-like swimming at my side.
God love her! she was very fair,
And in her eyes, to light my way,
The Love-Star sprang and sparkled where
The hidden Babe of Blessing lay.
I hear her singing, my young Bride!
Who on a-sudden from Life's stream
Rose Swan-like swimming at my side.
God love her! she was very fair,
And in her eyes, to light my way,
The Love-Star sprang and sparkled where
The hidden Babe of Blessing lay.
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With healing as of summer showers
That only nestle down to bless;
And silent ministry of flowers,
That only breathe their tenderness;
She, softly as a starry scheme,
My charmèd world hath circled round,
Till life doth seem a pleasant dream
The Victor dreameth sitting crowned.
That only nestle down to bless;
And silent ministry of flowers,
That only breathe their tenderness;
She, softly as a starry scheme,
My charmèd world hath circled round,
Till life doth seem a pleasant dream
The Victor dreameth sitting crowned.
Gone is the sunshine from her hair,
That made her beauty needless bright,
To tint a many clouds of care,
And cause the dark to smile with light.
But so she lives that when the wind
Of winter shreds the leaves, dear Wife!
Seed ripe for Heaven Death may find
On the poor withered stem of life.
That made her beauty needless bright,
To tint a many clouds of care,
And cause the dark to smile with light.
But so she lives that when the wind
Of winter shreds the leaves, dear Wife!
Seed ripe for Heaven Death may find
On the poor withered stem of life.
THE MISTLETOE BOUGH.
'Twas on a merry Christmas night,
A many years ago,
I saw my Love, with dancing sight,
As she came over the snow.
The Elvish Holly laughed above;
A sweeter red below!
When first I met with my true Love,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
A many years ago,
I saw my Love, with dancing sight,
As she came over the snow.
The Elvish Holly laughed above;
A sweeter red below!
When first I met with my true Love,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
Bright-headed as the merry May-Dawn
She floated down the dance;
I thought some Angel must have gone
Our human way by chance:
I held my hands, and caught my bliss,
Children, I'll show you how!
And Earth touched Heaven in a kiss,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
She floated down the dance;
I thought some Angel must have gone
Our human way by chance:
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Children, I'll show you how!
And Earth touched Heaven in a kiss,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
Ere leaves were green we built our nest,
The March winds whistled wild;
But in our love we were so blessed,
Old Poverty he smiled.
And Love the heart of Winter warmed,
Love blossomed 'neath the snow;
All fairy-land in blessings swarmed
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
The March winds whistled wild;
But in our love we were so blessed,
Old Poverty he smiled.
And Love the heart of Winter warmed,
Love blossomed 'neath the snow;
All fairy-land in blessings swarmed
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
The storms of years have beat our Bark,
That rocks at anchor now;
But She was smiling through the dark,
My Angel at the prow.
And brimming tides of love did bear
Us over the rocks below!
To-night, all safe in harbour here,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
That rocks at anchor now;
But She was smiling through the dark,
My Angel at the prow.
And brimming tides of love did bear
Us over the rocks below!
To-night, all safe in harbour here,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
May you, Boys, win just such a Wife;
Come drink the toast in wine!
And you, Girls, may you light a life
As she has brightened mine.
Dear was the bonny Bride, and yet
I'm prouder of her now
Than on the merry, merry night we met,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
Come drink the toast in wine!
And you, Girls, may you light a life
As she has brightened mine.
Dear was the bonny Bride, and yet
I'm prouder of her now
Than on the merry, merry night we met,
Under the Mistletoe Bough.
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LIFE AND DEATH.
All night the Mother laboured long and sore;All night the Father lingered at Death's door
And could not pass beyond; could not withdraw
From his fast-fading eyes, until he saw
Their coming little one; the Mother strove
To give him this last pledge of visible love;
But vainly strove to bring her babe to birth:
And, at the last grave-edge of crumbling earth,
Where life and death were locked in one last strain,
His spirit clung with glazing gaze in vain:
For when the Infant came, with smiling dawn,
The waiting, watching, weary soul was gone:
Even in Life's gateway Babe and Parent passed
Each other, with Death's shadow overcast.
WOMAN.
My fellow-men, as yet we have but seen
Wife, Sister, Mother and Daughter, not the Queen
Upon her Throne, with all her jewels crowned!
Wife, Sister, Mother and Daughter, not the Queen
Upon her Throne, with all her jewels crowned!
Unknowing how to seek, we have not found
Our Goddess, waiting her Pygmalion
To woo her into Woman from the stone!
Our Goddess, waiting her Pygmalion
To woo her into Woman from the stone!
Our Husbandry hath lacked essential power
To fructify the promise of the flower;
We have not known her nature ripe all round.
To fructify the promise of the flower;
We have not known her nature ripe all round.
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We have but seen her beauty on one side
That leaned in love to us with blush of bride:
The pure white Lily of all Womanhood
With heart all-golden still is in the bud.
That leaned in love to us with blush of bride:
The pure white Lily of all Womanhood
With heart all-golden still is in the bud.
We have but glimpsed a moment in her face
The glory she will give the future race;
The strong heroic spirit knit beyond
All induration of the Diamond.
The glory she will give the future race;
The strong heroic spirit knit beyond
All induration of the Diamond.
She is the natural bringer from above;
The Earthly mirror of Immortal Love;
The chosen Mouthpiece for the Mystic Word
Of Life Divine to speak through; and be heard
With human Voice, that makes its Heavenward call
Not in one Virgin Motherhood, but all.
The Earthly mirror of Immortal Love;
The chosen Mouthpiece for the Mystic Word
Of Life Divine to speak through; and be heard
With human Voice, that makes its Heavenward call
Not in one Virgin Motherhood, but all.
Unworthy of the gift how have Men trod
Her pearls of pureness, Swine-like, in the sod!
How often have they offered her the dust
And ashes of the fanned-out fires of lust;
Or, devilishly inflamed with the divine,
Waxed drunken with the Sacramental wine.
Her pearls of pureness, Swine-like, in the sod!
How often have they offered her the dust
And ashes of the fanned-out fires of lust;
Or, devilishly inflamed with the divine,
Waxed drunken with the Sacramental wine.
How have Men captured her with savage grips,
To stamp the kiss of Conquest on her lips,—
As feather in their crest have worn her grace,
Or brush of fox that crowns the hunter's chase;
Wooed her with Passions that but wed to fire
With Hymen's Torch their own funereal pyre;
Stripped her as Slave and Temptress of Desire;
Embraced the body when her soul was far
Beyond possession as the loftiest star!
Her Whiteness hath been tarnished by their touch;
Her Promise hath been broken in their clutch;
The Woman hath reflected Man too much,—
And made the Bread of Life with earthiest leaven.
To stamp the kiss of Conquest on her lips,—
As feather in their crest have worn her grace,
Or brush of fox that crowns the hunter's chase;
Wooed her with Passions that but wed to fire
With Hymen's Torch their own funereal pyre;
Stripped her as Slave and Temptress of Desire;
Embraced the body when her soul was far
Beyond possession as the loftiest star!
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Her Promise hath been broken in their clutch;
The Woman hath reflected Man too much,—
And made the Bread of Life with earthiest leaven.
Our coming Queen must be the Bride of Heaven;
The Wife who will not wear her bonds with pride
As Adult Doll with fripperies glorified:
The Mother fashioned on a nobler plan
Than Woman who was merely made from Man.
The Wife who will not wear her bonds with pride
As Adult Doll with fripperies glorified:
The Mother fashioned on a nobler plan
Than Woman who was merely made from Man.
| My Lyrical Life | |