 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
LOVE.
Love, whilom, volant from his native sky,
Brushed me, by chance, with his ambrosial wings,
Which shed enriching sweetness on all things:
And fanned me, as he went, revivingly,
With airs from heaven which still round him fly:
And wrapped me in an atmosphere, that clings
E'en now to me, and magic round me flings,
Making my footsteps musical and high,
Like to a God's! alas! or ere he came
The world seemed flat, unprofitable all;
But now the commonest things have scope and aim
Divine: Man's daily voice sounds musical
As is Apollo's lute, and Woman's name
Doth Beauty, like a spell, before me call!
Brushed me, by chance, with his ambrosial wings,
Which shed enriching sweetness on all things:
And fanned me, as he went, revivingly,
With airs from heaven which still round him fly:
And wrapped me in an atmosphere, that clings
E'en now to me, and magic round me flings,
Making my footsteps musical and high,
Like to a God's! alas! or ere he came
The world seemed flat, unprofitable all;
But now the commonest things have scope and aim
Divine: Man's daily voice sounds musical
As is Apollo's lute, and Woman's name
Doth Beauty, like a spell, before me call!
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O Love, enriching Love, that mak'st a flower,
A faded flower, worth more than jewels are,
And to vile things giv'st value singular:
Oh! thine, thine is the Beauty and the Power,
Who turn'st a rustic seat into a bower
Of fairy bliss: who makëst treasures far,
Far beyond gold, from things familiar,
And with thyself dost far more richly dower
Peasants than queens without; thou, like the sun,
Dost gild the earth, and strew it o'er with wealth
Unspeakable, and doest good by stealth:
Enriching all, yet poor not making one!
Those who want thee, want so both wealth and health,
And, having all things, yet have use of none!
A faded flower, worth more than jewels are,
And to vile things giv'st value singular:
Oh! thine, thine is the Beauty and the Power,
Who turn'st a rustic seat into a bower
Of fairy bliss: who makëst treasures far,
Far beyond gold, from things familiar,
And with thyself dost far more richly dower
Peasants than queens without; thou, like the sun,
Dost gild the earth, and strew it o'er with wealth
Unspeakable, and doest good by stealth:
Enriching all, yet poor not making one!
Those who want thee, want so both wealth and health,
And, having all things, yet have use of none!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |