heaven

Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?
It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, the sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell;
And this is Love, as I hear tell.

Yet what is Love, I prithee, say?
It is a work on holiday,
It is December matched with May,
When lusty bloods in fresh array
Hear ten months after of the play;
And this is Love, as I hear say.

Yet what is Love, good shepherd, sain?
It is a sunshine mixed with rain,

November days in Ireland
The skies are dull and grey,
But Oh! The clear strong flame of love,
That burns by night and day.
As swift and bright the whispered prayers fly to the Heavens O'erhead,
From faithful hearts in Ireland, remembering their dead.

No primroses or cowslips now,
But cold November rain,
No hawthorns in the hedges,
Till Spring comes round again,
But roses bloom in chapels lone and cabins far apart
Dear rosaries of remembrance said to Mary's loving heart.

Old November, sere and brown,
Clothes the country, haunts the town,
Sheds its cloak of withered leaves,
Brings its sighing, soughing breeze.
Prophet of the dying year,
Builder of its funeral bier,
Bring your message here to men;
Sound it forth that they may ken
What of Life and what of Death
Linger on your frosty breath.
Let men know to you are given
Days of thanks to God in heaven;
Thanks for things which we deem best,
Thanks, O God, for all the rest

Night of Mid-June, in heavy vapours dying,
Like priestly hands thy holy touch is lying
Upon the world's wide brow;
God-like and grand all nature is commanding
The "peace that passes human understanding";
I, also, feel it now.

What matters it to-night, if one life treasure
I covet, is not mine! Am I to measure
The gifts of Heaven's decree
By my desires? O! life for ever longing
For some far gift, where many gifts are thronging,
God wills, it may not be.

To me that man seems like a god in heaven,
seems--may I say it?--greater than all gods are,
who sits by you & without interruption
watches you, listens

to your light laughter, which casts such confusion
onto my senses, Lesbia, that when I
gaze at you merely, all of my well-chosen
words are forgotten

as my tongue thickens & a subtle fire
runs through my body while my ears deafened
by their own ringing & at once my eyes are
covered in darkness!

I find it very hard to be fair-minded
About people who go around being air-minded.
I just can't see any fun
In soaring up up up into the sun
When the chances are still a fresh cool orchid to a paper geranium
That you'll unsoar down down down onto your (to you) invaluable
cranium.
I know the constant refrain
About how safer up in God's trafficless heaven than in an automobile
or a train
But ...
My God, have you ever taken a good look at a strut?

She heard the story of the end,
   Each message, too, she heard;
And there was one for every friend;
   For her alone -- no word.

And shall she bear a heavier heart,
   And deem his love was fled;
Because his soul from earth could part
   Leaving her name unsaid?

No -- No! -- Though neither sign nor sound
   A parting thought expressed --
Not heedless passed the Homeward-Bound
   Of her he loved the best.

Of voyage-perils, bravely borne,
   He would not tell the tale;

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should I give my love--
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishermen go--
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song--
But how can I give silence
My whole life long?

The moon is a charring ember
Dying into the dark;
Off in the crouching mountains
Coyotes bark.

The stars are heavy in heaven,
Too great for the sky to hold --
What if they fell and shattered
The earth with gold?

No lights are over the mesa,
The wind is hard and wild,
I stand at the darkened window
And cry like a child.

When the golden day is done,
Through the closing portal,
Child and garden, Flower and sun,
Vanish all things mortal.
II
As the blinding shadows fall
As the rays diminish,
Under evening's cloak they all
Roll away and vanish.
III
Garden darkened, daisy shut,
Child in bed, they slumber--
Glow-worm in the hallway rut,
Mice among the lumber.
IV
In the darkness houses shine,
Parents move the candles;
Till on all the night divine
Turns the bedroom handles.
V