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1178
MORE THAN HIS SHARE.
"Martha, does thee love me?" asked a quaker youth of one at whose shrine his heart's fondest feelings had been offered up.
"Why, Seth," answered she, "we are commanded to love one another, are we not?"
"Aye, Martha; but does thee regard me with that feeling that the world calls love?"
"I hardly know what to tell thee, Seth; I have greatly feared that my heart was an erring one. I have tried to bestow my love on all; but I have sometimes thought, perhaps, that thee was getting rather more than thy share."
--_Christian Observer._
1179
No disguise can long conceal love where it is, nor feign it where it is not.
--_Rochefoucauld._
1180
LOVE.
Naught sweeter is than love. Whom that doth bless Regardeth all things less.
If thou first taste of love, then shalt thou see Honey shall bitter be!
What roses are, they never know, who miss Fair Cytherea's kiss.
--_Nossis, Greek._ _Translated by Lilla Cabot Perry._
1181
How often love is maintained by wealth: When all is spent adversity then breeds The discontent.
--_Herrick._
1182
The moment one is in love one becomes so amiable.
1183
ONE WHO LOVES.
I had so fixed my heart upon her, That whereso'er I fram'd a scheme of life For time to come, she was my only joy With which I used to sweeten future cares: I fancy'd pleasures, none but one who loves And doats as I did, can imagine like them.
1184
The secret _of being loved_ is _in being_ lovely, and the secret _of being_ lovely, is _in being_ unselfish.
1185
A lover never sees the faults of the one he loves till the enchantment is over.
1186
THE TRAGEDY OF FICKLE LOVE.
He came too late! Neglect had tried Her constancy too long; Her love had yielded to her pride And the deep sense of wrong.
She scorned the offering of a heart Which lingered on its way, Till it could no delight impart, Nor spread one cheering ray.
He came too late! At once he felt That all his power was o'er; Indifference in her calm smile dwelt-- She thought of him no more.
Anger and grief had pa.s.sed away, Her heart and thoughts were free; She met him, and her words were gay No spell had memory.
He came too late! Her countless dreams Of hope had long since flown; No charms dwelt in his chosen themes, Nor in his whispered tone.
And when, with word and smile, he tried Affection still to prove, She nerved her heart with woman's pride And spurned his fickle love.
--_Unknown._
1187
OH, NO! WE NEVER MENTION HIM.
Oh, no! we never mention him, his name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak that once familiar word: From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret; And when they win a smile from me, they think that I forget.
They bid me seek in change of scene the charms that others see; But were I in a foreign land, they'd find no change in me.
'Tis true that I behold no more the valley where we met, I do not see the hawthorn-tree; but how can I forget?
For oh! there are so many things recall the past to me-- The breeze upon the sunny hills, the billows of the sea; The rosy tint that decks the sky before the sun is set;-- Ay, every leaf I look upon forbids me to forget.
They tell me he is happy now, the gayest of the gay; They hint that he forgets me too,--but I heed not what they say: Perhaps like me he struggles with each feeling of regret; But if he loves as I have loved, he never can forget.
--_Thomas Haynes Bayley, 1797-1839._
1188
Is it possible a man can be so changed by love that one would not know him for the same person?
1189
