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Poems by James Hyslop

... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns

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XXXIX. The Language of Love.
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XXXIX.
The Language of Love.

How dear is the young heart
That loves one with fondness—
The heart where the soul
Can bestow all its kindness!
How dear the deceit,
When the heart is concealing
The deep cherish'd love
Which soft eyes are revealing!
How dear is the lip
That we oft have caressed—
The lip that hath ne'er
By another been pressed!—
The lip that can smile,
And be sweetly denying,
As on yours, all the while,
It is breathing and sighing!
How dear is the language
The thrilling hand speaketh,
When the learner of love
An interpreter seeketh!
The soft hand can speak,
In love's silent expression,
What would redden the cheek
Should sweet lips make confession.

171

How dear is the dark eye
In softness replying,
While warm lips on yours
Are in innocence lying!—
Those fond lips of love
Pressing nearer and nearer!
A soft circling arm
Makes them dearer and dearer.