Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!
O, quick, praevernal Power
That signall'st punctual through the sleepy mould
The Snowdrop's time to flower,
Fair as the rash oath of virginity
Which is first-love's first cry;
O, Baby Spring,
That flutter'st sudden 'neath the breast of Earth
A month before the birth;
Whence is the peaceful poignancy,
The joy contrite,
Sadder than sorrow, sweeter than delight,

My love, my wife, three months ago
I joined the fight in London town.
I haven't conquered yet, you know,
And friends are few, and hope is low;
Far off I see the shining crown.

I'm daunted, dear; but blow on blow
With ebbing force I strike, and so
I am not felled and trodden down,
My love, my wife!

I wonder when the tide will flow,
Sir Oracle cease saying “No,”
And Fortune smile away her frown.
Well, while I swim I cannot drown;
And while we sleep the harvests grow,
My love, my wife.

A placid lake dreamed the dull days away
In Scotland's leafy heart, the wild deer's home,
Yet never knew the ecstasy of foam,
The curl of waves, or the grim tempest's sway.

But storms encompassed it one fatal day,
The snaky lightnings o'er its bank did roam,
And to its sheltering snow-girt cedars clomb,
Stirring the blue depths in wild disarray.

Like that calm lake, my heart serenely dreamed,
Unconscious of alarm, until you came,
Leading Love with you, vigorous and free;
Then the strong lights of passion grandly gleamed,

When I gaze upon the sky
And the sea below, I cry,
Thus be poetry and love,
Deep beneath and bright above.

Our Mothers, lovely women pitiful;
Our Sisters, gracious in their life and death;
To us each unforgotten memory saith:
“Learn as we learned in life's sufficient school,
Work as we worked in patience of our rule,
Walk as we walked, much less by sight than faith,
Hope as we hoped, despite our slips and scathe,
Fearful in joy and confident in dule.”
I know not if they see us or can see;
But if they see us in our painful day,
How looking back to earth from Paradise
Do tears not gather in those loving eyes?—

O how I love Thy holy law!
'Tis daily my delight;
And thence my meditations draw
Divine advice by night.

How doth Thy Word my heart engage!
How well employ my tongue,
And in my tiresome pilgrimage
Yields me a heavenly song.

When nature sinks, and spirits droop,
Thy promises of grace
Are pillars to support my hope,
And there I write Thy praise.

L OVE'S torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy.

When chinks in April's windy dome
Let through a day of June,
And foot and thought incline to roam,
And every sound 's a tune;
When Nature fills a fuller cup,
And hides with green the gray,—
Then, lover, pluck your courage up
To try your fate in May.

Though proud she was as sunset clad
In Autumn's fruity shades,
Love too is proud, and brings (gay lad!)
Humility to maids.
Scorn not from nature's mood to learn,
Take counsel of the day:
Since haughty skies to tender turn,
Go try your fate in May.

Let it go on; let the love of this hour be poured out till all the answers are made, the last dollar spent and the last blood gone.

Time runs with an ax and a hammer, time slides down the hallways with a pass-key and a master-key, and time gets by, time wins.

Let the love of this hour go on; let all the oaths and children and people of this love be clean as a washed stone under a waterfall in the sun.

Time is a young man with ballplayer legs, time runs a winning race against life and the clocks, time tickles with rust and spots.

Life is not dear or gay
—Till lovers kiss it,
Love stole my life away
—Ere I might miss it.
In sober March I vowed
—I'd have no lover,
Love laid me in my shroud
—Ere June was over.

I felt his body take
—My body to it,
And knew my heart would break
—Ere I should rue it;
June roses are not sad
—When dew-drops steep them,
My moments were so glad
—I could not keep them.

Proud was I love had made
—Desire to fill me,
I shut my eyes and prayed
—That he might kill me.
I saw new wonders wreathe
—The stars above him.