In the past days I chafed at pain and waiting, Grasping at gladness as the children do; Now it is sweet to wait and joy to suffer, Because of you.
In the long years of silences that part us Dimmed by my tears and darkened to my view, Close shall I hold my memories and my madness, Because of you.
Whether our lips shall touch or hands shall hunger, Whether our love be fed or joys be few, Life will be sweeter and more worth the living, Because of you.
Sophia Almon Hensley [1866-
THEN
I give thee treasures hour by hour, That old-time princes asked in vain, And pined for in their useless power, Or died of passion's eager pain.
I give thee love as God gives light, Aside from merit, or from prayer, Rejoicing in its own delight, And freer than the lavish air.
I give thee prayers, like jewels strung On golden threads of hope and fear; And tenderer thoughts than ever hung In a sad angel's pitying tear.
As earth pours freely to the sea Her thousand streams of wealth untold, So flows my silent life to thee, Glad that its very sands are gold.
What care I for thy carelessness? I give from depths that overflow, Regardless that their power to bless Thy spirit cannot sound or know.
Far lingering on a distant dawn, My triumph shines, more sweet than late; When, from these mortal mists withdrawn, Thy heart shall know me - I can wait.
Rose Terry Cooke [1827-1892]
THE MISSIVE
I that tremble at your feet Am a rose; Nothing dewier or more sweet Buds or blows; He that plucked me, he that threw me Breathed in fire his whole soul through me.
How the cold air is infused With the scent! See, this satin leaf is bruised - Bruised and bent, Lift me, lift the wounded blossom, Soothe it at your rosier bosom!
Frown not with averted eyes! Joy's a flower That is born a god, and dies In an hour. Take me, for the Summer closes, And your life is but a rose's.
Edmund Gosse [1849-1928]
PLYMOUTH HARBOR
Oh, what know they of harbors Who toss not on the sea! They tell of fairer havens But none so fair there be
As Plymouth town outstretching Her quiet arms to me; Her breast's broad welcome spreading From Mewstone to Penlee.
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.