To make day fair when they unclose.
Be hushed around her, Night, and keep
Thy silent guard on her repose;
But speed thine hours.
Dear love, sleep on. This weary space
I wake and long for day and thee,
And count the slow stars from their west.
Sleep while I hunger for thy face,
Sleep, dearest, in unbroken rest;
But dream of me.
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SOFT voices of the woods, that make
Winged whispers through the leaves where wakeLong wind-wafts dying in a sigh,Replies of birds from brake to brake,Plash of the runnel on its stones,Soft voices, sweet for summer’s sake,There is a word in all your tones,A word that not till now ye spake,‘Goodbye, goodbye.’And yet, see, dearest, overheadThe branches bar a sultry sky,No earliest fleck…
Birds sing ‘I love you, love’ the whole day through,
But, singing done with, loving’s done with quite,The autumn sunders every twittering two.And I’d not have love make too much adoWith sweet parades of fondness and delight,Lest iterant wont should make caresses trite,Love-names mere cuckoo ousters of the true.Oh heart can hear heart’s sense in senseless nought,And heart that’s sure of heart has little speech.What…
WHITE rose sighed in the morn,
And ‘Sweetest sweetness is ended soon,’And ‘Never heed for the thorn.’‘Love’s hour passes away,’White rose breathed in my ear;Red rose whispered ‘No need to fear;The day is enough for day.’Shall I heed white or red?Shall I heed both aright?Sighing and laughing, red and white,‘Tis ‘Love her’ they both have said.
‘I AM Joy,’ she said; but her voice was low,
‘I am Love ‘; but her eyes lacked Love’s quick glow,And the tear that springs after;‘I am Life’; but she seemed too calm, too still,Like one who waits, but forgets to-morrow;Then she took my hand, and I did her will,And knew she was Sorrow.And she led me on through the world we see,Where smiles are…
SOME quick kind tears, some easy sorrow,
‘Twas sad; yet sadness has its morrow;Blue skies succeed skies overcast:Why should grief last?Something that’s passing, something dying.Well, weep one’s fill,Spend grief’s sweet courtesy, go sighing;But violets break from snow-time’s chill:Who can mourn still?Aye, let me pass. No life will miss meSave few first days.A shudder, stooping down to kiss me,A little love and tardy…
NAY, tell me not. I will not know.
A waste where blow-seeds spring and growThen die because the soil is spent,And leave no token they were there;A soddened mere where marsh-lights gleam,But no star sees the ray it lentBecause of her despoiled and bare.What then? she did a wrong unmeant.Leave me my dream.Tell me no more. I will not know.My life, if she…