How long I've loved thee, and how well—
I dare not tell!
Because, if thou shouldst once divine
This love of mine,
Or did but once my tongue confess
My heart's distress,
Far, far too plainly thou wouldst see
My slavery,
And, guessing what Love's wit should hide,
Rest satisfied!

So, though I worship at thy feet,
I'll be discreet—
And all my love shall not be told,
Lest thou be cold,
And, knowing I was always thine,
Scorn to be mine.
So am I dumb, to rescue thee
From tyranny—
And, by my silence, I do prove

& what is Love the sweetest of all pains
Yet teazing more then madness to the mind
It wants no setoffs garniture or gains
Better acceptance in the heart to find
On lily breasts & rosey mouths love binds
Its image which no power on earth can free
Though called inconstant as the shifting winds
Tis Truth on earth as heaven itself can be
I've felt it ever since I loved Haidee.

Haidee the lovliest of all thats loved
The venus of young life the poets dreams
A vision of the mind by all approved
A beauty of the heart that all esteems

Once the life that ran in my veins was stronger;
Now youth burns my blood with desire no longer;
Soon my grizzled head must be disapproving
Bondage of loving.

Young, I served King Love, and my April squandered
As his valiant trooper, and bore his standard,
Which at Venus' shrine to her care I tender,
Forced to surrender.

Now no more shall words of delight the sheerest,
“Sweet, my soul, thou life of my life, my dearest,”
Thrill me. They whose hearts have new blood to heat them,
Hearing, repeat them.

I will find, to kindle my life, new physic,

O Source divine and Life of all,
The Fount of being's fearful sea,
Thy depth would every heart appall,
That saw not Love supreme in thee!

We shrink before thy vast abyss,
Where worlds on worlds eternal brood;
We know thee truly but in this,—
That thou bestowest all our good.

And so, 'mid boundless time and space,
O grant us still in thee to dwell,
And through thy ceaseless web to trace
Thy presence working all things well!

Nor let thou life's delightful play
Thy truth's transcendent vision hide;
Nor strength and gladness lead astray

'Twas He, who once descending from the Height
Of heavenly Bliss, assum'd our mortal Clay;
That, cloth'd in human Flesh, and in our Stead,
He, our kind Surety, might discharge the Debt,
The dreadful Debt we ow'd, and on Himself
Transfer the Vengeance of the threatening Law,
The Guilt of Man, and Sin's dire Punishment
See, prostrate on the Ground, forlorn He lies,
On the cold Grass diffus'd; His guiltless Hands
Towards His own Heaven, uplifted; and his Face
Placid and mild, turn'd to His Father's Seat,
Not to receive the Kisses of His Love,

“L OVE is eternal,” sang I long ago
Of some light love that lasted for a day;
But when the fleeting fancy passed away,
And other loves, that following made as though
They were the very deathless, lost the glow
Youth mimics the divine with, and grew gray,
I said, “It is a dream: no love will stay.”
Angels have taught me wisdom. Now I know,
Though lesser loves and greater loves may cease,
Love still endures, knocking at myriad gates
That lead to God—stars, winds and waters, birds,
Beasts, flowers and men—speaking its sweetest words

When worn and tired with toil and care,
I homeward wheel my way,
A thought dispels my dark despair
And lights the homeward way;
A vision fair far up the street
With straining eyes I see—
I hurry then my love to meet—
I know she waits for me.

She waits for me, my love, my own,
She greets me with a smile,
I hear again her tender tone,
It shortens every mile
She waits for me, because, you see,
Like lightning she can go—
At every turn she waits for me—
I ride so awful slow!

A silver birch dances at my window.
The faint clouds dimly seen
On the sloped azure are easy to be scattered
When full day's wind sweeps clean.

Call to walk comes as of true nature,
Easy should the body move.
And poetry comes after eight miles' seeking,
Mere right out of mere love.

I WOKE : she had been standing by,
With wonder on her face.
She came toward me, very bright,
As from a blessed place.

She touched me not, but smiling spoke,
And softly as before.
“They gave me drink from some slow stream;
I love thee now no more.”

S HE'S not so fair as many there
But she's as loved as any,
And few you'll find with such a mind
Or such a heart as Nannie:
A maiden grace, a modest face,
A smile to win us ever;
And, she has sense—without pretence—
And good as she is clever!
She's not so fine as some may shine
With feathers, pearls, and laces;
But oh, she's got, what they have not
With all their borrowed graces,
Eyes blue and bright with heaven's light,
That kindle with devotion;
A cheek of rose, a heart that glows
With every sweet emotion!