Chapter 10

Ah, with this home-thought, darling, Come crowding thoughts of thee. Oh, what know they of harbors Who toss not on the sea!

Mrs. Ernest Radford [1858-

THE SERF'S SECRET

I know a secret, such a one The hawthorn blossoms spider-spun, The dew-damp daisies in the grass Laugh up to greet me as I pass To meet the upland sun.

It is that I would rather be The little page, on bended knee, Who stoops to gather up her train Beneath the porch-lamp's ruby rain Than hold a realm in fee.

It is that in her scornful eye, Too hid for courtly sneer to spy, I saw, one day, a look which said That I, and only I, might shed Love-light across her sky.

I know a secret, such a one The hawthorn blossoms spider-spun, The dew-damp daisies in the grass Laugh up to greet me as I pass To meet the upland sun.

William Vaughn Moody [1869-1910]

"O, INEXPRESSIBLE AS SWEET"

O, inexpressible as sweet, Love takes my voice away; I cannot tell thee when we meet What most I long to say.

But hadst thou hearing in thy heart To know what beats in mine, Then shouldst thou walk, where'er thou art, In melodies divine.

So warbling birds lift higher notes Than to our ears belong; The music fills their throbbing throats, But silence steals the song.

George Edward Woodberry [1855-1930]

THE CYCLAMEN

Over the plains where Persian hosts Laid down their lives for glory Flutter the cyclamens, like ghosts That witness to their story. Oh, fair! Oh, white! Oh, pure as snow! On countless graves how sweet they grow!

Or crimson, like the cruel wounds From which the life-blood, flowing, Poured out where now on grassy mounds The low, soft winds are blowing: Oh, fair! Oh, red! Like blood of slain; Not even time can cleanse that stain.

But when my dear these blossoms holds, All loveliness her dower, All woe and joy the past enfolds In her find fullest flower. Oh, fair! Oh, pure! Oh, white and red! If she but live, what are the dead!

Arlo Bates [1850-1918]

THE WEST-COUNTRY LOVER

Then, lady, at last thou art sick of my sighing? Good-bye! So long as I sue, thou wilt still be denying? Good-bye! Ah, well! shall I vow then to serve thee forever, And swear no unkindness our kinship can sever? Nay, nay, dear my lass! here's an end of endeavor. Good-bye!

Yet let no sweet ruth for my misery grieve thee. Good-bye! The man who has loved knows as well how to leave thee. Good-bye! The gorse is enkindled, there's bloom on the heather, And love is my joy, and so too is fair weather; I still ride abroad, though we ride not together. Good-bye!

My horse is my mate; let the wind be my master. Good-bye! Though Care may pursue, yet my hound follows faster. Good-bye! The red deer's a-tremble in coverts unbroken. He hears the hoof-thunder; he scents the death-token. Shall I mope at home, under vows never spoken? Good-bye!

The brown earth's my book, and I ride forth to read it. Good-bye! The stream runneth fast, but my will shall outspeed it. Good-bye! I love thee, dear lass, but I hate the hag Sorrow. As sun follows rain, and to-night has its morrow, So I'll taste of joy, though I steal, beg, or borrow! Good-bye!

Alice Brown [1857-

"BE YE IN LOVE WITH APRIL-TIDE"

Be ye in love with April-tide? I' faith, in love am I! For now 'tis sun, and now 'tis shower, And now 'tis frost and now 'tis flower, And now 'tis Laura laughing-eyed, And now 'tis Laura shy!

Ye doubtful days, O slower glide! Still smile and frown, O sky! Some beauty unforeseen I trace In every change of Laura's face; - Be ye in love with April-tide? I' faith, in love am I!

Clinton Scollard [1860-1932]

UNITY

Heart of my heart, the world is young: Love lies hidden in every rose! Every song that the skylark sung Once, we thought, must come to a close: Now we know the spirit of song, Song that is merged in the chant of the whole, Hand in hand as we wander along, What should we doubt of the years that roll?

Heart of my heart, we can not die! Love triumphant in flower and tree, Every life that laughs at the sky Tells us nothing can cease to be; One, we are one with a song to-day, One with the clover that scents the wold, One with the Unknown, far away, One with the stars, when earth grows old.

Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind, One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea, One in many, O broken and blind, One as the waves are at one with the sea! Ay! when life seems scattered apart, Darkens, ends as a tale that is told, One, we are one, O heart of my heart, One, still one, while the world grows old.

Alfred Noyes [1880-

THE QUEEN

He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh: The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his glory disappear.

He keeps his state, - keep thou in thine, And shine upon me from afar! So shall I bask in light divine, That falls from love's own guiding star; So shall thy eminence be high, And so my passion shall not die;

But all my life shall reach its hands Of lofty longing toward thy face, And be as one who, speechless, stands In rapture at some perfect grace! My love, my hope, my all shall be To look to heaven and look to thee!

Thy eyes shall be the heavenly lights, Thy voice the gentle summer breeze, - What time it sways, on moonlit nights, The murmuring tops of leafy trees; And I shall touch thy beauteous form In June's red roses, rich and warm.

But thou thyself shall come not down From that pure region far above; But keep thy throne and wear thy crown, Queen of my heart and queen of love! A monarch in thy realm complete, And I a monarch - at thy feet!

William Winter [1836-1917]

A LOVER'S ENVY

I envy every flower that blows Beside the pathway where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose.

I envy every poet's rhyme That moves her heart at eventime, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears for her The fruitage of its prime.

I envy every Southern night That paves her path with moonbeams white, And silvers all the leaves for her, And in their shadow weaves for her A dream of dear delight.

I envy none whose love requires Of her a gift, a task that tires: I only long to live to her, I only ask to give to her All that her heart desires.

Henry Van Dyke [1852-1933]

STAR SONG

When sunset flows into golden glows And the breath of the night is new, Love, find afar eve's eager star - That is my thought of you.

O tear-wet eye that scans the sky Your lonely lattice through: Choose any one, from sun to sun - That is my thought of you.

And when you wake at the morning's break To rival rose and dew, The star that stays till the leaping rays - That is my thought of you.

Ay, though by day they seem away Beyond or cloud or blue, From dawn to night unquenched their light - As are my thoughts of you.

Robert Underwood Johnson [1853-

"MY HEART SHALL BE THY GARDEN"

My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own, Into thy garden; thine be happy hours Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers, From root to crowning petal, thine alone. Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown Up to the sky inclosed, with all its showers. But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.

For as these come and go, and quit our pine To follow the sweet season, or, new-corners, Sing one song only from our alder-trees, My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine. Flit to the silent world and other summers, With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.

Alice Meynell [1853-1922]

AT NIGHT

Home, home from the horizon far and clear, Hither the soft wings sweep; Flocks of the memories of the day draw near The dovecote doors of sleep.

Oh which are they that come through sweetest light Of all these homing birds? Which with the straightest and the swiftest flight? Your words to me, your words!

Alice Meynell [1850-1922]

SONG

Song is so old, Love is so new - Let me be still And kneel to you.

Let me be still And breathe no word, Save what my warm blood Sings unheard.

Let my warm blood Sing low of you - Song is so fair, Love is so new!

Hermann Hagedorn [1882-

"ALL LAST NIGHT"

All last night I had quiet In a fragrant dream and warm: She had become my Sabbath, And round my neck, her arm.

I knew the warmth in my dreaming; The fragrance, I suppose, Was her hair about me, Or else she wore a rose.

Her hair, I think; for likest Woodruffe 'twas, when Spring Loitering down wet woodways Treads it sauntering.

No light, nor any speaking; Fragrant only and warm. Enough to know my lodging, The white Sabbath of her arm.

Lascelles Abercrombie [1881-

THE LAST WORD

When I have folded up this tent And laid the soiled thing by, I shall go forth 'neath different stars, Under an unknown sky.

And yet whatever house I find Beneath the grass or snow Will ne'er be tenantless of love Or lack the face I know.

O lips - wild roses wet with rain! Blown hair of drifted brown! O passionate eyes! O panting heart - When in that colder town

I lie, the one inhabitant, My hands across my breast, How warm through all eternity The summer of my rest!

To each frail root beneath the ground That thrusts its flower above, I shall impart a fiercer sap - I who have known your love!

And growing things will lean to me To learn what love hath won, Till I shall whisper to the dust That secret of the Sun.

Yea, though my spirit never wake To hear the voice I knew, Even an endless sleep would be Stirred by the dreams of You!

Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]

"HEART OF MY HEART"

Heart of my heart, my life, my light! If you were lost what should I do? I dare not let you from my sight Lest Death should fall in love with you.

Such countless terrors lie in wait! The gods know well how dear you are! What if they left me desolate And plucked and set you for their star!

Then hold me close, the gods are strong, And perfect joy so rare a flower No man may hope to keep it long - And I may lose you any hour.

Then kiss me close, my star, my flower! So shall the future grant me this: That there was not a single hour We might have kissed, and did not kiss!

Unknown

MY LADDIE

Oh, my laddie, my laddie, I lo'e your very plaidie, I lo'e your very bonnet Wi' the silver buckle on it, I lo'e your collie Harry, I lo'e the kent ye carry; But oh! it's past my power to tell How much, how much I lo'e yoursel!

Oh, my dearie, my dearie, I could luik an' never weary At your een sae blue an' iaughin', That a heart o' stane wad saften, While your mouth sae proud an' curly Gars my heart gang tirlie-wirlie; But oh! yoursel, your very sel, I lo'e ten thousand times as well!

Oh! my darlin', my darlin', Let's flit whaur flits the starlin', Let's loll upo' the heather A' this bonny, bonny weather; Ye shall fauld me in your plaidie, My luve, my luve, my laddie; An' close, an' close into your ear I'll tell ye how I lo'e ye, dear.

Amelie Rives [1863-

THE SHADED POOL

A laughing knot of village maids Goes gaily tripping to the brook, For water-nymphs they mean to be, And seek some still, secluded nook. Here Laura goes, my own delight, And Colin's love, the madcap Jane, And half a score of goddesses Trip over daisies in the plain: Already now they loose their hair And peep from out the tangled gold, Or speed the flying foot to reach The brook that's only summer-cold; The lovely locks stream out behind The shepherdesses on the wing, And Laura's is the wealth I love, And Laura's is the gold I sing.

A-row upon the bank they pant, And all unlace the country shoe; Their fingers tug the garter-knots To loose the hose of varied hue. The flashing knee at last appears, The lower curves of youth and grace, Whereat the girls intently scan The mazy thickets of the place. But who's to see except the thrush Upon the wild crab-apple tree? Within his branchy haunt he sits - A very Peeping Tom is he! Now music bubbles in his throat, And now he pipes the scene in song - The virgins slipping from their robes, The cheated stockings lean and long, The swift-descending petticoat, The breasts that heave because they ran, The rounded arms, the brilliant limbs, The pretty necklaces of tan. Did ever amorous God in Greece, In search of some young mouth to kiss, By any river chance upon A sylvan scene as bright as this? But though each maid is pure and fair, For one alone my heart I bring, And Laura's is the shape I love, And Laura's is the snow I sing.

And now upon the brook's green brink, A milk-white bevy, lo, they stand, Half shy, half frightened, reaching back The beauty of a poising hand! How musical their little screams When ripples kiss their shrinking feet! And then the brook embraces all Till gold and white and water meet! Within the streamlet's soft cool arms Delight and love and gracefulness Sport till a flock of tiny waves Swamps all the beds of floating cress; And on his shining face are seen Great yellow lilies drifting down Beyond the ringing apple-tree, Beyond the empty homespun gown. Did ever Orpheus with his lute, When making melody of old, E'er find a stream in Attica So ripely full of pink and gold?

At last they climb the sloping bank And shake upon the thirsty soil A treasury of diamond-drops Not gained by aught of grimy toil. Again the garters clasp the hose, Again the velvet knee is hid, Again the breathless babble tells What Colin said, what Colin did. In grace upon the grass they lie And spread their tresses to the sun, And rival, musical as they, The blackbird's alto shake and run. Did ever Love, on hunting bent, Come idly humming through the hay, And, to his sudden joyfulness, Find fairer game at close of day? Though every maid's a lily-rose, And meet to sway a sceptred king, Yet Laura's is the face I love, And Laura's are the lips I sing.

Norman Gale [1862-

GOOD-NIGHT

Good-night. Good-night. Ah, good the night That wraps thee in its silver light. Good-night. No night is good for me That does not hold a thought of thee. Good-night.

Good-night. Be every night as sweet As that which made our love complete, Till that last night when death shall be One brief "Good-night," for thee and me. Good-night.

S. Weir Mitchell [1829-1914]

THE MYSTIC

By seven vineyards on one hill We walked. The native wine In clusters grew beside us two, For your lips and for mine,

When, "Hark!" you said, - "Was that a bell Or a bubbling spring we heard?" But I was wise and closed my eyes And listened to a bird;

For as summer leaves are bent and shake With singers passing through, So moves in me continually The winged breath of you.

You tasted from a single vine And took from that your fill - But I inclined to every kind, All seven on one hill.

Witter Bynner [1881-

"I AM THE WIND"

I am the wind that wavers, You are the certain land; I am the shadow that passes Over the sand.

I am the leaf that quivers, You the unshaken tree; You are the stars that are steadfast, I am the sea.

You are the light eternal, Like a torch I shall die... You are the surge of deep music, I - but a cry!

Zoe Akins [1886-

"I LOVE MY LIFE, BUT NOT TOO WELL"

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 [1860-1936]

"THIS IS MY LOVE FOR YOU"

I have brought the wine And the folded raiment fine, Pilgrim staff and shoe - This is my love for you.

I will smooth your bed, Lay away your coverlid, Sing the whole day through. This is my love for you.

Mayhap in the night, When the dark beats back the light, I shall struggle too . . . This is my love for you.

In your dream, once more, Will a star lead to my door? To stars and dreams be true This is my love for you . . .

Grace Fallow Norton [1876-

MY LADY'S LIPS

LIPS AND EYES From "Blurt, Master Constable"

Love for such a cherry lip Would be glad to pawn his arrows; Venus here to take a sip Would sell her doves and team of sparrows. But they shall not so; Hey nonny, nonny no! None but I this lip must owe; Hey nonny, nonny no!

Did Jove see this wanton eye, Ganymede must wait no longer; Phoebe here one night did lie, Would change her face and look much younger. But they shall not so; Hey nonny, nonny no! None but I this lip must owe; Hey nonny, nonny no!

Thomas Middleton [1570?-1627]

THE KISS From "Cynthia's Revels"

O that joy so soon should waste! Or so sweet a bliss As a kiss Might not for ever last! So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious, The dew that lies on roses, When the morn herself discloses, Is not so precious. O, rather than I would it smother, Were I to taste such another, It should be my wishing That I might die with kissing.

Ben Jonson [1573?-1637]

"TAKE, O TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY"

Take, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

Hide, O hide those hills of snow, Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears! But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

The first stanza from " Measure for Measure," by William Shakespeare [1564-1616] The second stanza from "The Bloody Brothers," by John Fletcher [1579-1625]

A STOLEN KISS

Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe; And free access unto that sweet lip lies, From which I long the rosy breath to draw. Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal From those two melting rubies one poor kiss; None sees the theft that would the thief reveal, Nor rob I her of aught that she can miss; Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, There would be little sign I had done so; Why then should I this robbery delay? O, she may wake, and therewith angry grow! Well if she do, I'll back restore that one, And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.

George Wither [1588-1667]

SONG

My Love bound me with a kiss That I should no longer stay; When I felt so sweet a bliss I had less power to part away: Alas! that women do not know Kisses make men loath to go.

Yes, she knows it but too well, For I heard when Venus' dove In her ear did softly tell That kisses were the seals of love: O muse not then though it be so, Kisses make men loath to go.

Wherefore did she thus inflame My desires, heat my blood, Instantly to quench the same And starve whom she had given food? Ay, ay, the common sense can show, Kisses make men loath to go.

Had she bid me go at first I would ne'er have grieved my heart Hope delayed had been the worst; But ah to kiss and then to part! How deep it struck, speak, gods! you know Kisses make men loath to go.

Unknown

TO ELECTRA

I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile, Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee.

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

"COME, CHLOE, AND GIVE ME SWEET KISSES"

Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses, For sweeter sure never girl gave; But why in the midst of my blisses, Do you ask me how many I'd have? I'm not to be stinted in pleasure, Then, prithee, my charmer, be kind, For whilst I love thee above measure, To numbers I'll ne'er be confined.

Count the bees that on Hybla are playing, Count the flowers that enamel its fields, Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying, Or the grain that rich Sicily yields, Go number the stars in the heaven, Count how many sands on the shore, When so many kisses you've given, I still shall be craving for more.

To a heart full of love, let me hold thee, To a heart that, dear Chloe, is thine; In my arms I'll for ever enfold thee, And twist round thy limbs like a vine. What joy can be greater than this is? My life on thy lips shall be spent! But the wretch that can number his kisses, With few will be ever content.

Charles Hanbury Williams [1708-1759]

A RIDDLE

I am just two and two, I am warm, I am cold, And the parent of numbers that cannot be told, I am lawful, unlawful - a duty, a fault - I am often sold dear, good for nothing when bought; An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course, And yielded with pleasure when taken by force.

William Cowper [1731-1800]

TO A KISS

Soft child of love, thou balmy bliss, Inform me, O delicious kiss, Why thou so suddenly art gone, Lost in the moment thou art won?

Yet go! For wherefore should I sigh? On Delia's lips, with raptured eye, On Delia's blushing lips I see A thousand full as sweet as thee.

John Wolcot [1738-1819]

SONG

Often I have heard it said That her lips are ruby-red. Little heed I what they say, I have seen as red as they. Ere she smiled on other men, Real rubies were they then.

When she kissed me once in play, Rubies were less bright than they, And less bright than those which shone In the palace of the Sun. Will they be as bright again? Not if kissed by other men.

Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE

Away with your fictions of flimsy romance, Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove! Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.

Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!

If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove, Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, And try the effect of the first kiss of love.

I hate you, ye cold compositions of art! Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove, I court the effusions that spring from the heart, Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.

Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes, Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move: Arcadia displays but a region of dreams; What are visions like these to the first kiss of love?

Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth, From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove; Some portion of Paradise still is on earth, And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past - For years fleet away with the wings of the dove - The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]

"JENNY KISSED ME"

Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I'm growing old, but add, Jenny kissed me.

Leigh Hunt [1784-1859]

"I FEAR THY KISSES, GENTLE MAIDEN"

I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden; Thou needest not fear mine; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine.

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion; Thou needest not fear mine; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine.

Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822]

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle; - Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea; What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?

Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822]

SONG From "In a Gondola"