love poem

Those snary locks are those same nets (my Deere)
Where-with my libertie thou didst surprize:
Love was the flame that fired me so neere;
The Dart transpearsing were those Christall eyes.
Strong is the net and fervent is the flame;
Deepe is the wounde, my sighes doe well report:
Yet doe I love, adore, and praise the same
That holds, that burnes, that wounds me in this sort.

My spotlesse love hoovers with purest wings
About the temple of the proudest frame,
Where blaze those lights, fayrest of earthly things,
Which cleer our clowded world with brightest flame.
M'ambitious thoughts, confined in her face,
Affect no honour but what she can give:
My hopes doe rest in limits of her grace;
I weigh no comfort unlesse she relieve
For she that can my hart imparadize,
Holds in her fairest hand what deerest is:
My fortune's wheele's the circle of her eyes,

If thys be love, to draw a weary breath,
Paint on floods, till the shore, cry to th'ayre;
With downward lookes still reading on the earth
The sad memorials of my love's despayre:
If this be love, to warre against my soule,
Lye downe to waile, rise up to sigh and grieve;
The never-resting stone of care to roule,
Still to complaine my griefes, whilst none relieve:
If this be love, to cloathe me with darke thoughts,
Haunting untroden pathes to waile apart;
My pleasures, horror; Musique, tragick notes;

The world is ours again —
Ours is the heavenly rout —
For, as the healing rain
Freshens the rose,
Sadness has made us whole
After the bitter drought,
And the despairing soul
Blossoms and glows.
Sing, heart, sing, lips, sing, promise of the morrow,
Love is not Love that has not tasted sorrow.

All, all is ours again —
The hour with wonder fraught —
The passions near to pain

" Love's a garment only meant
For the minstrel and romancer. "
This is all that she has sent
To my pleadings as an answer.

How the words come back again,
Still as careless, still as bitter —
Like a harsh and mocking strain
Played upon a tinkling zither.

Like a prisoner chained alone,
Dullness binds me, wrist and ankle —
All the evil thoughts are gone

Night, sing to her
All of thy songs.
Night, bring to her
Dreams that will cling to her,
Dreams that will move her with tears for my wrongs.
Night, sing to her.

Night, care for her —
All of her sins,
Night, bear for her —
Beauty's a prayer for her,
Beauty's a prayer which she ends and begins —
Night, care for her.

Night, sing to her
All that has lain
Like a dead thing to her —

I sent her a fortnight ago
A lily, a rose and a song;
Three fair little symbols to show
That Love had forgiven the wrong.
And I said to the flowers, " Be fair , "
And I said to the song, " Be my voice " ;
And I took and I placed them with care
In a book that had made her rejoice.

To-day she returned them to me
Unanswered, untouched and untried —
And I wept, when I found them, to see

" While the world is soothed with sleep,
Wrapped in fever I am lying,
And I hear the angels weep —
Who is it that lies a-dying? "
" Dearest, dearest,
What thou hearest
Are the winds that wander sighing. "

" Nay, for I can see his face,
Burning with its fearful story;
Look — it glares at me through space
Like a death-head, scarred and gory. "
" Dearest, dearest,
What thou fearest

Every night I climb the stair,
And with every fresh ascending
Comes the moment of despair.
Will she meet me — will she dare
And each night (oh happy ending)
She is there!

People fear the house — they say
It has stood unclaimed, unwanted
Since a dying lover lay
While he heard his love betray;
Sprang up — and the rooms are haunted
To this day.

But we come here where no eye

" Only of thee and me the nightwind sings,
Only of us the sailors speak at sea,
The earth is filled with wondered whisperings
Only of thee and me.

" Only of thee and me the breakers chant,
Only of us the stir in bush and tree;
The rain and sunshine tell the eager plant
Only of thee and me.

" Only of thee and me, till all shall fade;
Only of us the whole world's thoughts can be —
For we are Love, and God Himself is made