Part 2
And fearfully we tread cold space, Naked of flesh and winged with flame, ... Until we find us face to face, Each calling on the other’s name!
_Irene Rutherford McLeod_
AN INCANTATION
O strong sun of heaven, harm not my love, Sear him not with your flame, blind him not with your beauty, Shine for his pleasure!
O gray rains of heaven, harm not my love, Drown not in your torrent the song of his heart, Lave and caress him!
O swift winds of heaven, harm not my love, Bruise not nor buffet him with your rough humor, Sing you his prowess!
O mighty triad, strong ones of heaven, Sun, rain and wind, be gentle, I charge you; For your mad mood of wrath have me, I am ready-- But spare him, my lover, most proud and most dear-- O sun, rain and wind, strong ones of heaven!
_Marguerite Wilkinson_
LOVE SONG
There is a strong wall about me to protect me: It is built of the words you have said to me.
There are swords about me to keep me safe: They are the kisses of your lips.
Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm: It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.
All the wishes of my mind know your name, And the white desires of my heart They are acquainted with you. The cry of my body for completeness, That is a cry to you. My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless-- Your name, your name.
_Mary Carolyn Davies_
THE HEART’S COUNTRY
Hill people turn to their hills; Sea folk are sick for the sea: Thou art my land and my country, And my heart calls out for thee.
The bird beats his wings for the open, The captive burns to be free; But I--I cry at thy window, For thou art my liberty.
_Florence Wilkinson_
RHAPSODY
As the mother bird to the waiting nest, As the regnant moon to the sea, As joy to the heart that hath first been blest-- So is my love to me.
Sweet as the song of the lark that soars From the net of the fowler free, Sweet as the morning that song adores-- So is my love to me!
As the rose that blossoms in matchless grace Where the canker may not be, As the well that springs in a desert place-- So is my love to me.
_Florence Earle Coates_
“WHEN ON THE MARGE OF EVENING”
When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken, And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar, Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken, On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning’s dying star,
I think of thee (oh mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!) Whose greater noonday splendors the many share and see, While sacred and forever, some perfect law is keeping The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me.
_Louise Imogen Guiney_
“BELOVÈD, MY BELOVÈD, WHEN I THINK”
Belovèd, my belovèd, when I think That thou wast in the world a year ago, What time I sat alone here in the snow, And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink No moment at thy voice, but link by link, Went counting all my chains as if that so They never could fall off at any blow Struck by thy possible hand,--why, thus I drink Of life’s great cup of wonder! Wonderful, Never to feel thee thrill the day or night With personal act or speech, nor ever cull Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull, Who cannot guess God’s presence out of sight.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
APOLOGY
Be not angry with me that I bear Your colors everywhere, All through each crowded street, And meet The wonder-light in every eye, As I go by.
Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze, Blinded by rainbow haze, The stuff of happiness, No less, Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds Of peacock golds.
Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way Flushes beneath its gray. My steps fall ringed with light, So bright, It seems a myriad suns are strown About the town.
Around me is the sound of steepled bells, And rich perfumèd smells Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud, And shroud Me from close contact with the world. I dwell impearled.
You blazon me with jeweled insignia. A flaming nebula Rims in my life. And yet You set The word upon me, unconfessed To go unguessed.
_Amy Lowell_
RAIN
I have always hated the rain, And the gloom of grayed skies. But now I think I must always cherish Rain-hung leaf and the misty river; And the friendly screen of dripping green Where eager kisses were shyly given And your pipe-smoke made clouds in our damp, close heaven.
The curious laggard passed us by, His wet shoes soughed on the shining walk. And that afternoon was filled with a blurred glory-- That afternoon, when we first talked as lovers.
_Jean Starr Untermeyer_
THE NAME
I’ve learned to say it carelessly, So no one else can see By any little look or sign How dear it is to me.
But, oh, the thrill, as though you kissed My tingling finger-tips Each time the golden syllables Fall lightly from my lips!
_Williamina Parrish_
“I LEANED OUT MY WINDOW”
I leaned out my window, I smelt the white clover, Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate; Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover-- Hush, nightingale, hush! Oh, sweet nightingale, wait Till I listen and hear If a step draweth near, For my love he is late!
“The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree, The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer: To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see? Let the star-clusters grow, Let the sweet waters flow, And cross quickly to me.
“You night moths that hover where honey brims over From sycamore blooms, or settle or sleep; You glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover To him that comes darkling along the rough steep. Ah, my sailor, make haste, For the time runs to waste, And my love lieth deep--
“Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover, I’ve conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night.” By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover, Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight; But I’ll love him more, more Than e’er wife loved before, Be the day dark or bright.
_Jean Ingelow_
RAIN, RAIN!
Rain, rain,--fall, fall, In a heavy screen-- That my lover be not seen!
Wind, wind,--blow, blow, Till the leaves are stirred-- That my lover be not heard!
Storm, storm,--rage, rage, Like a war around-- That my lover be not found!
... Lark, lark,--hush ... hush ... Softer music make-- That my lover may not wake....
_Zoë Akins_
THE HAWTHORN TREE
Across the shimmering meadows-- Ah, when he came to me! In the spring-time, In the night-time, In the starlight, Beneath the hawthorn tree.
Up from the misty marshland-- Ah, when he climbed to me! To my white bower, To my sweet rest, To my warm breast, Beneath the hawthorn tree.
Ask of me what the birds sang, High in the hawthorn tree; What the breeze tells, What the rose smells, What the stars shine-- Not what he said to me!
_Willa Sibert Cather_
ECSTASY
Cover mine eyes, O my Love! Mine eyes that are weary of bliss As of light that is poignant and strong. Oh, silence my lips with a kiss, My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my Love! My soul is bent low with the pain And the burden of love, like the grace Of a flower that is smitten with rain; Oh, shelter my soul from thy face!
_Sarojini Naidu_
THE MAN WITH A HAMMER
My Dear was a mason And I was his stone. And quick did he fashion A house of his own.
As fish in the waters, As birds in a tree, So natural and blithe lives His spirit in me.
_Anna Wickham_
THE GREAT MAN
I cannot always feel his greatness. Sometimes he walks beside me, step by step, And paces slowly in the ways-- The simple, wingless ways That my thoughts tread. He gossips with me then, And finds it good; Not as an eagle might, his great wings folded, be content To walk a little, knowing it his choice, But as a simple man, My friend. And I forget.
Then suddenly a call floats down From the clear airy spaces, The great keen, lonely heights of being. And he who was my comrade hears the call And rises from my side, and soars, Deep-chanting, to the heights. Then I remember. And my upward gaze goes with him, and I see Far off against the sky The glint of golden sunlight on his wings.
_Eunice Tietjens_
I KNOW
Oh! I know why the alder trees Lean over the reflecting stream; And I know what the wandering bees Heard in the woods of dream.
I know how the uneasy tide Answers the signal of the moon, And why the morning-glories hide Their eyes in the forenoon.
And I know all the wild delight That quivers in the sea-bird’s wings, For in one little hour last night Love told me all these things.
_Elsa Barker_
REST
As a little child I come To be gathered to your breast So tired that my lips are dumb, So sad that my warm heart is numb: Belovèd, let me rest.
Oh, how all the noises die, All the cruel voices cease, I can sleep when you are by, And I am too faint to cry: Here at last is peace.
Hold me, nurse me, love me ... so ... Almost I could learn to weep! Hush, I feel my spirit grow ... When you tire ... let me go ... I shall be ... asleep.
_Irene Rutherford McLeod_
“IF THOU MUST LOVE ME, LET IT BE FOR NOUGHT”
If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love’s sake only. Do not say, “I love her for her smile, her look, her way Of speaking gently, for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day”; For these things in themselves, belovèd, may Be changed, or change for thee: and love so wrought May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry: A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby. But love me for love’s sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on through love’s eternity.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
THE TIRED WOMAN
O my Lover, blind me, Take your cords and bind me, Then drive me through a silent land, With the compelling of your open hand!
There is too much of sound, too much for sight, In thunderous lightnings of this night, There is too much of freedom for my feet, Bruised by the stones of this disordered street.
I know that there is sweetest rest for me, In silent fields, and in captivity. O Lover! drive me through a stilly land, With the compelling of your open hand.
_Anna Wickham_
“HOW DO I LOVE THEE?”
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
THE TAXI
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. Streets coming fast, One after the other, Wedge you away from me, And the lamps of the city prick my eyes So that I can no longer see your face. Why should I leave you, To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
_Amy Lowell_
“YOU SAY THERE IS NO LOVE”
You say there is no love, my love, Unless it lasts for aye! Oh, folly, there are interludes Better than the play.
You say lest it endure, sweet love, It is not love for aye? Oh, blind! Eternity can be All in one little day.
_Grace Fallow Norton_
DEBTS
My debt to you, Belovèd, Is one I cannot pay In any coin of any realm On any reckoning day;
For where is he shall figure The debt, when all is said, To one who makes you dream again When all the dreams were dead?
Or where is the appraiser Who shall the claim compute Of one who makes you sing again When all the songs were mute?
_Jessie B. Rittenhouse_
A WOMAN’S QUESTION
Before I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy future give Color and form to mine,-- Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night, for me.
I break all slighter bonds, nor feel One shadow of regret: Is there one link within the past That holds thy spirit yet? Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?...
Is there within thy heart a need That mine cannot fulfill? One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still? Speak now, lest at some future day, my whole life wither and decay....
Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day, And answer to my claim That fate, and that to-day’s mistake, Not thou, had been to blame? Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou--oh, surely thou wilt warn me now!
_Adelaide Anne Procter_
COMRADES
You need not say one word to me, as up the hill we go (Night-time, white-time, all in the whispering snow); You need not say one word to me, although the whispering trees Seem strange and old as pagan priests in swaying mysteries.
You need not think one thought of me, as up the trail we go (Hill-trail, still-trail, all in the hiding snow); You need not think one thought of me, although a hare runs by, And off behind the tumbled cairn we hear a red fox cry.
Oh, good and rare it is to feel, as through the night we go (Wild-wise, child-wise, all in the secret snow), That we are free of heart and foot as hare and fox are free, And yet that I am glad of you, and you are glad of me!
_Fannie Stearns Davis_
IN DEEP PLACES
I love thee, dear, and knowing mine own heart With every beat I give God thanks for this; I love thee only for the self thou art; No wild embrace, no wisdom-shaking kiss, No passionate pleading of a heart laid bare, No urgent cry of love’s extremity-- Strong traps to take the spirit unaware-- Not one of these I ever had of thee. Neither of passion nor of pity wrought Is this, the love to which at last I yield, But shapen in the stillness of my thought And by a birth of agony revealed. Here is a thing to live while we do live Which honors thee to take and me to give.
_Amelia Josephine Burr_
THAT DAY YOU CAME
Such special sweetness was about That day God sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year.
Their common way the great winds blew, The ships sailed out to sea; Yet ere that day was spent I knew Mine own had come to me.
As after song some snatch of tune Lurks still in grass or bough, So, somewhat of the end o’ June Lurks in each weather now.
The young year sets the buds astir, The old year strips the trees; But ever in my lavender I hear the brawling bees.
_Lizette Woodworth Reese_
PARTING
My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me.
So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell; Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
_Emily Dickinson_
AN OLD SONG
And if I came not again After certain days; If no morning sun or rain Met me on their ways;
If the meadows knew no more How my feet go free, And the folded hills forbore Any speech of me;
If you did not find me here, At the door at night, And the cold hearth kept no cheer, And the panes no light;--
Oh, if I came not again, Would you miss me much? Would your fingers once be fain Of my wandering touch?
Would you dream me at your side In the waking wood, Where the old spring hungers hide In blue solitude?
Would you wonder where I passed, Into joy or pain? Oh, to know you cared, at last, Came I not again!
_Fannie Stearns Davis_
“I WILL NOT GIVE THEE ALL MY HEART”
I will not give thee all my heart For that I need a place apart To dream my dreams in, and I know Few sheltered ways for dreams to go: But when I shut the door upon Some secret wonder--still, withdrawn-- Why dost thou love me even more, And hold me closer than before?
When I of Love demand the least, Thou biddest him to fire and feast: When I am hungry and would eat, There is no bread, though crusts were sweet. If I with manna may be fed, Shall I go all uncomforted? Nay! Howsoever dear thou art, I will not give thee all my heart.
_Grace Hazard Conkling_
GIFTS
You ask me what--since we must part-- You shall bring back to me. Bring back a pure and faithful heart As true as mine to thee.
You talk of gems from foreign lands, Of treasure, spoil, and prize. Ah love! I shall not search your hands But look into your eyes.
_Juliana Horatia Ewing_
MENACE
I came into your room and spoke. Sudden I knew you were not there. The easy, common sentence broke Against the unanswering air.
My heart shook like a frightened bird, And to my ear the terror said, Where nothing spoke and nothing stirred,-- _Dear God, if he were dead!_
I heard your footstep in the house, Your voice brought comfort to my fear. But, fluttering like a frightened mouse, My heart beat at my ear.
The room wore its familiar face; On the warm hearth spirted the flame. Yet--menace of an empty place-- _Lord, if he never came!_
_Katharine Tynan_
LOVE SONG
I love my life, but not too well To give it to thee like a flower, So it may pleasure thee to dwell Deep in its perfume but an hour. I love my life, but not too well.
I love my life, but not too well To sing it note by note away, So to thy soul the song may tell The beauty of the desolate day. I love my life, but not too well.
I love my life, but not too well To cast it like a cloak on thine, Against the storms that sound and swell Between thy lonely heart and mine. I love my life, but not too well.
_Harriet Monroe_
POSSESSION
Walk into the world, Go into the places of trade; Go into the smiling country-- But go, clad, wrapped closely always, Shielded and sustained, In the visible flame of my love.
Let it blaze about you-- A glowing armor for all to see; Flashing around your head-- A tender and valiant halo.
I think there will be many to wonder And many to stand in awe and envy-- But surely no one will come too close to you. No one will dare to claim you,-- Hand or heart,-- As you pass in your shining and terrible garment.
_Jean Starr Untermeyer_
“YET FOR ONE ROUNDED MOMENT”
Yet for one rounded moment I will be No more to you than what my lips may give, And in the circle of your kisses live As in some island of a storm-blown sea, Where the cold surges of infinity Upon the outward reefs unheeded grieve, And the loud murmur of our blood shall weave Primeval silences round you and me.
If in that moment we are all we are, We live enough. Let this for all requite. Do I not know, some wingèd things from far Are borne along illimitable night To dance their lives out in a single flight Between the moonrise and the setting star?
_Edith Wharton_
INSUFFICIENCY
I
There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee; Thou standest alone, as the nightingale sings! And my words that would praise thee are impotent things, For none can express thee, though all should approve thee. I love thee so, dear, that I only can love thee.
II
Say, what can I do for thee? Weary thee, grieve thee? Lean on thy shoulder, new burdens to add? Weep my tears over thee, making thee sad? Oh, hold me not, love me not! let me retrieve thee. I love thee so, dear, that I only can leave thee.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
“I MUST NOT YIELD”
I must not yield ... but if he would not sing! My stilling hands upon my breast can feel Its answer tremble like a muted string. Below the vaulted window where I kneel
He sings, he sings, to stars and listening skies. A white and haunted place my garden seems.-- I see the pleading beauty of his eyes As faces glimmer in a pool of dreams.
So wooing wind might sweep a harp awake. (Oh, muting fingers on each quivering string!) I must not yield ... I think my heart will break. Mother of Heaven, if he would not sing!
_Nora May French_
“GO FROM ME”
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual life, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore,-- Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land Doom takes to part us leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double. What I do And what I dream include thee, as the wine Must taste of its own grapes. And, when I sue God for myself, he hears that name of thine, And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
RENOUNCEMENT
I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, I shun the thought that lurks in all delight-- The thought of thee--and in the blue Heaven’s height, And in the sweetest passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright; But it must never, never come in sight; I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day, When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away,-- With the first dream that comes with the first sleep I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.
_Alice Meynell_
A FAREWELL
Good-bye!--no, do not grieve that it is over, The perfect hour; That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover, Flits from the flower.
Grieve not--it is the law. Love will be flying-- Yes, love and all. Glad was the living--blessed be the dying. Let the leaves fall.
_Harriet Monroe_
LOVE’S CHANGE
I went to dig a grave for Love, But the earth was so stiff and cold That, though I strove through the bitter night, I could not break the mould.