Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed

To last, a love set pendulous betweenSorrow and sorrow ? Nay, I rather thrilled,Distrusting every light that seemed to gildThe onward path, and feared to overleanA finger even. And, though I have grown sereneAnd strong since then, I think that God has willedA still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . ….

And would the sun for thee more coldly shineBecause of grave-damps falling round my head?I marvelled, my Belovèd, when I readThy thought so in the letter. I am thine–But…so much to thee? Can I pour your wineWhile my hands tremble? Then my soul, insteadOf dreams of death, resumes life’s lower range.Then, love me, Love! Look…

Thou canst prevail against my fears and flingThy purple round me, till my heart shall growToo close against thine heart henceforth to knowHow it shook when alone. Why, conqueringMay prove as lordly and complete a thingIn lifting upward, as in crushing low!And as a vanquished soldier yields his swordTo one who lifts him from the…

With childish bounds I used to runTo a garden long deserted.The beds and walks were vanished quite;And wheresoe’er had struck the spade,The greenest grasses Nature laidTo sanctify her right.I called the place my wilderness,For no one entered there but I;The sheep looked in, the grass to espy,And passed it ne’ertheless.The trees were interwoven wild,And spread…

From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,To glance up in some face that proved me dearWith the look of its eyes. I miss the clearFond voices which, being drawn and reconciledInto the music of Heaven’s undefiled,Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,While I call God–call God !–So let thy mouthBe heir to those…

Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight airBeat upward to God’s throne in loud accessOf shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,In souls as countries, lieth silent-bareUnder the blanching, vertical eye-glareOf the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, expressGrief for thy Dead in silence like to death–Most like a monumental statue setIn everlasting watch and moveless woeTill itself crumble to…

In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble throughTheir happy eyelids from an unaverredYet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erredIn that last doubt ! and yet I cannot rueThe sin most, but the occasion–that we twoShould for a moment stand unministeredBy a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,Thou dovelike help ! and, when my fears…

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of everyday’sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old…

To last, a love set pendulous betweenSorrow and sorrow ? Nay, I rather thrilled,Distrusting every light that seemed to gildThe onward path, and feared to overleanA finger even. And, though I have grown sereneAnd strong since then, I think that God has willedA still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . ….

Proveth a truant thing,Whenso some names I love, send it away!For then, eyes swimming o’er,And clasped hands, and smiles in fondness meant,Are much more eloquent —So it had fain begone, and speak no more!Yet shall it come again,Ah, friend belov’d! if so thy wishes be,And, with wild melody,I will, upon thine ear, cadence my strain…

And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,And laid them on the outside of the-wallFor such as I to take or leave withal,In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,Ungrateful, that for these most manifoldHigh gifts, I render nothing back at all ?Not so; not cold,–but very poor instead.Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have runThe…

To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soonAnd quickly tied to make a lasting troth.Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;And, looking on myself, I seemed not oneFor such man’s love !–more like an out-of-tuneWorn viol, a good singer would be wrothTo spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,Is laid down at…

And make the daylight still a happy thing,And tender voices, to make soft the wind:But if it were not so—if I could findNo love in all this world for comforting,Nor any path but hollowly did ringWhere ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d;And if, before those sepulchres unmovingI stood alone (as some forsaken lambGoes…

And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,Between our faces, to cast light upon each?I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teachMy hand to hold my spirit so far offFrom myself.. me.. that I should bring thee proof,In words of love hid in me…out of reach.Nay, let the silence of my womanhoodCommend…

(Against which years have beat thus blanchinglyWith their rains), and behold my soul’s true face,The dim and weary witness of life’s race,–Because thou hast the faith and love to see,Through that same soul’s distracting lethargy,The patient angel waiting for a placeIn the new Heavens,–because nor sin nor woe,Nor God’s infliction, nor death’s neighborhood,Nor all which…

In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble throughTheir happy eyelids from an unaverredYet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erredIn that last doubt ! and yet I cannot rueThe sin most, but the occasion–that we twoShould for a moment stand unministeredBy a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,Thou dovelike help ! and, when my fears…

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeatedShould seem ‘a cuckoo-song,’ as thou dost treat it,Remember, never to the hill or plain,Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strainComes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.Beloved, I, amid the darkness greetedBy a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt’s painCry, ‘Speak once more—thou lovest! ‘Who can fearToo…

And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blownA life-breath, till the forehead hopefullyShines out again, as all the angels see,Before thy saving kiss ! My own, my own,Who camest to me when the world was gone,And I who looked for only God, found thee !I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.As one who…