487
You love the Lord—you cannot see—
You write Him—every day—
A little note—when you awake—
And further in the Day.
An Ample Letter—How you miss—
And would delight to see—
But then His House—is but a Step—
And Mine's—in Heaven—You see.
156
You love me—you are sure—
I shall not fear mistake—
I shall not cheated wake—
Some grinning morn—
To find the Sunrise left—
And Orchards—unbereft—
And Dollie—gone!
I need not start—you're sure—
That night will never be—
When frightened—home to Thee I run—
To find the windows dark—
And no more Dollie—mark—
Quite none?
Be sure you're sure—you know—
I'll bear it better now—
If you'll just tell me so—
Than when—a little dull Balm grown—
Over this pain of mine—
You sting—again!
644
You left me—Sire—two Legacies—
A Legacy of Love
A Heavenly Father would suffice
Had He the offer of—
You left me Boundaries of Pain—
Capacious as the Sea—
Between Eternity and Time—
Your Consciousness—and Me—
You hate the telephone
but will not see me
face to face
so I am left
beseeching you
long-distance,
trying to thread our love
along the telephone poles
of Vermont,
trying to tunnel it
under the Atlantic
as if it were
a rare fossil
I'd unearthed,
or an offshore pipe
bearing precious oil.
But it is your face
I love,
your funny grin
that now seems
cruel around the edges.
You do not wish to be
cruel-you,
the kindest person in the world,
but driven to curious
rages
when you feel
I don't know how the fishes feel, but I can't help thinking it odd,
That a gay young flapper of a female eel should fall in love with a cod.
Yet - that's exactly what she did and it only goes to prove,
That' what evr you do you can't put the lid on that crazy feeling Love.
Now that young tom-cod was a dreadful rake, and he had no wish to wed,
But he feared that her foolish heart would break, so this is what he said:
"Some fellows prize a woman's eyes, and some admire her lips,
While some have a taste for a tiny waist, but - me, what I like is HIPS."
You are great in love.
You are bold.
My every step is timid.
I'll do nothing bad to you,
but can hardly do you any good.
It seems you are
leading me
off the beaten path through a forest.
Now we're up to our waist in wildflowers.
I don't even know
what flowers they are.
Past experience is of no help here.
I don't know
what to do or how.
You're tired.
You ask to be carried in my arms.
Already you're in my arms.
'Do you see
They did the deed of darkness
In their own mid-light.
He plucked a gray field mouse
Suddenly in the wind.
The small dead fly alive
Helplessly in his beak,
His cold pride, helpless.
All she receives is life.
They are terrified. They touch.
Life is too much.
She flies away sorrowing.
Sorrowing, she goes alone.
Then her small falcon, gone.
Will not rise here again.
Smaller than she, he goes
Claw beneath claw beneath
MY SOUL is raying like a star,
My heart is happier than a bird,
And all to hear through fortune’s jar
One promissory word.
A sound as simple as the low
Quick sliding gurgle of a rill,
And yet with power to overflow
A world with blissful will!
I feel as though the very air
Was breathen from the heart of Love,
As Pleasure in the sun’s bright lair
Sat brooding like a dove!
A billow of the sunny sea,
A cloudlet of the summer sky,
How wide is their felicity—
So widely blest am I!
YEAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow,
Year after year the skylarks thrill the air,
Year after year, in sunshine or in shadow,
Rolls the world round, love, and finds us as we were.
Year after year, as sure as birds' returning,
Or field-flowers' blossoming above the wintry mould,
Year after year, in work, or mirth, or mourning,
Love we with love's own youth, that never can grow old.
Sweetheart and ladye-love, queen of boyish passion,
Strong hope of manhood, content of age began;
Ye restless thoughts, that harbour discontent,
Cease your assaults and let my heart lament,
And let my tongue have leave to tell my grief,
That she may pity, though not grant relief.
Pity would help, alas, what love hath almost slain,
And salve the wound that fester'd this disdain.