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Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns!
Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!
Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!
Love is best!
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
EARL MERTOUN'S SONG From "The Blot in the 'Scutcheon"
There's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest; And her n.o.ble heart's the n.o.blest, yes, and her sure faith's the surest: And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of l.u.s.ter Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cl.u.s.ter, Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble: Then her voice's music... call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble!
And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were moonless, Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's outbreak tuneless, If you loved me not!" And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her, Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her-- I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me, And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
MEETING AT NIGHT
The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pus.h.i.+ng prow, And quench its speed in the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; Three fields to cross till a farm appears; A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spirt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
PARTING AT MORNING
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me.
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
THE TURN OF THE ROAD
Soft, gray buds on the willow, Warm, moist winds from the bay, Sea-gulls out on the sandy beach, And a road my eager feet would reach, That leads to the Far-away.
Dust on the wayside flower, The meadow-lark's luring tone Is silent now, from the gra.s.ses tipped With dew at the dawn, the pearls have slipped-- Far have I fared alone.
And then, by the alder thicket The turn of the road--and you!
Though the earth lie white in the noonday heat, Or the swift storm follow our hurrying feet What do we care--we two!
Alice Rollit Coe [18--
"MY DELIGHT AND THY DELIGHT"
My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night:
My desire and thy desire Twining to a tongue of fire, Leaping live, and laughing higher;
Through the everlasting strife In the mystery of life.
Love, from whom the world begun, Hath the secret of the sun.
Love can tell, and love alone, Whence the million stars were strown, Why each atom knows its own, How, in spite of woe and death, Gay is life, and sweet is breath:
This he taught us, this we knew, Happy in his science true, Hand in hand as we stood 'Neath the shadows of the wood, Heart to heart as we lay In the dawning of the day.
Robert Bridges [1844-1930]
"O, SAW YE THE La.s.s"
O, saw ye the la.s.s wi' the bonny blue een?
Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen: Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween; She's the loveliest la.s.sie that trips on the green.
The home of my love is below in the valley, Where wild-flowers welcome the wandering bee; But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen Is the maid that I love wi' the bonny blue een.
When night overshadows her cot in the glen, She'll steal out to meet her loved Donald again; And when the moon s.h.i.+nes on the valley so green, I'll welcome the la.s.s wi' the bonny blue een.
As the dove that has wandered away from his nest Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best, I'll fly from the world's false and vanis.h.i.+ng scene, To my dear one, the la.s.s wi' the bonny blue een.
Richard Ryan [1796-1849]
LOVE AT SEA Imitated From Theophile Gautier
We are in love's land to-day; Where shall we go?
Love, shall we start or stay, Or sail or row?
There's many a wind and way, And never a May but May; We are in love's hand to-day; Where shall we go?
Our land-wind is the breath Of sorrows kissed to death And joys that were; Our ballast is a rose; Our way lies where G.o.d knows And love knows where.
We are in love's hand to-day--
Our seamen are fledged Loves, Our masts are bills of doves, Our decks fine gold; Our ropes are dead maids' hair, Our stores are love-shafts fair And manifold.
We are in love's land to-day--
Where shall we land you, sweet?
