The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston :: :: University of Virginia Library

232

Have I not dreamed of you all night long,
Love, my Love?
Shall I not tell my dream in a song,
O my Love?

Have I not worshipped you six long years,
Queen, my Queen?
Have I not given you bounteous tears,
O my Queen?

Have I not said, when the spring was here, —
“Sweet, my Sweet,
More than the pride and flower of the year,
O my Sweet”?

Have I not said, in the dawning gray, —
“Heart, my Heart,
I shall see my lady ere close of day,
O my Heart”?

Have I not said, in the silent night, —
“Dove, my Dove,
So soft of voice and rapid of flight,
O my Dove”?

Have I not said, in the summer hours, —
“Rose, my Rose,
Greatly exalted above all flowers,
O my Rose”?

Have I not said, in my great despair, —
“Soul, my Soul,
Love is a grievous burden to bear
O my Soul”?

233

Have I not turned to the sea, and said, —
“Life, my Life,
If she be not mine, be thou my bed,
O my Life”?

Have I not dreamed of your eyes, and cried, —
“Light, my Light,
Lead me where love may be satisfied,
O my Light!”

Have I not trodden a weary road,
Saint, my Saint?
And where, at last, shall be my abode,
O my Saint?

Sometimes I say, in an hour supreme,
“Bride, my Bride!
I shall hold you fast, and not in a dream,
O my Bride!”