I

Love that 's loved from day to day
Loves itself into decay:
He that eats one daily fruit
Shrivels hunger at the root.
Daily pleasure grows a task;
Daily smiles become a mask.
Daily growth of unpruned strength
Expands to feebleness at length.
Daily increase thronging fast
Must devour itself at last.
Daily shining, even content,
Would with itself grow discontent;
And the sun's life witnesseth
Daily dying is not death.
So Love loved from day to day
Loves itself into decay.

II

Love to daily uses wed

CCLVIII

Absence, alas,
Causeth me pass
From all solace
To great grievance.

Yet though that I
Absent must be,
I trust that she
Hath remembrance.

Where I her find
Loving and kind,
There my poor mind
Eased shall be.
And for my part,
My love and heart
Shall not revert
Though I should die.

Beauty, pleasure,
Riches, treasure,
Or to endure
In prison strong
Shall not me make
Her to forsake
Though I should lack
Her never so long.

For once trust I,
Ere that I die,

between Ardelia and Ephelia Eph.

What Friendship is, Ardelia, show. Ard.
'Tis to love as I love you. Eph.
This account, so short (though kind)
Suits not my enquiring mind.
Therefore farther now repeat:
What is Friendship when complete? Ard.
'Tis to share all joy and grief;
'Tis to lend all due relief
From the tongue, the heart, the hand,
'Tis to mortgage house and land;
For a friend be sold a slave;
'Tis to die upon a grave
If a friend do therein lie. Eph.
This indeed, though carried high;

I.

How strongly does my Passion flow,
Divided equally 'twixt two?
Damon had ne'er subdu'd my Heart,
Had not Alexis took his part;
Nor cou'd Alexis pow'rful prove,
Without my Damons Aid, to gain my Love.

II.

When my Alexis present is,
Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;
But when Alexis I do miss,
Damon gains nothing but my Scorn.
But if it chance that both are by,
For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.

III.

Love is a green girl
Holding a rose
Alone in a garden
Where nobody goes.

Time is an old man
Everyone meets
On trolleys and ferries
And cobblestone streets.

CLXX

Hate whom ye list for I care not.
Love whom ye list and spare not.
Do what ye list and dread not.
Think what ye list and fear not.
For as for me I am not
But even as one that recketh not
Whether ye hate or hate not,
For in your love I dote not.
Wherefore I pray you forget not
But love whom ye list and spare not.

O GAIN that lurk'st ungained in all gain!
O love we just fall short of in all love!
O height that in all heights art still above!
O beauty that dost leave all beauty pain!
Thou unpossessed that mak'st possession vain,
See these strained arms which fright the simple air,
And say what ultimate fairness holds thee, Fair!
They girdle Heaven, and girdle Heaven in vain;
They shut, and lo! but shut in their unrest.
Thereat a voice in me that voiceless was: —
" Whom seekest thou through the unmarged arcane,

I LOVE the sunshine everywhere,
In wood, and field, and glen;
I love it in the busy haunts
Of town-imprisoned men.

I love it when it streameth in
The humble cottage door
And casts the checkered casement shade
Upon the red-brick floor.

I love it where the children lie
Deep in the clovery grass,
To watch among the twining roots
The gold-green beetles pass.

I love it on the breezy sea,
To glance on sail and oar,
While the great waves, like molten glass,
Come leaping to the shore.

TO MY MOTHER .

Mother , Mother, how I loved thee!
And I know thou lov'dst me well;
But the gentle Saviour called thee
Home on high with saints to dwell.

Mother, gentlest of all creatures,
Patient, noble, just serene;
To me thou wert perfect, ideal;
Equal of thine, ne'er was seen.

Thou art gone! but not forgot by
Her who loved thee here on earth,

ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED SON AND ONLY CHILD .

M Y olive plant, so green and fair;
My budding hope, my dearest care;
My only one! He only knew
Who gave — and, ah! how soon withdrew
The precious gift — how dear I loved
My plant on earth; and though removed
To higher climes and brighter skies,
With mournful tread and weeping eyes
I wander round his early tomb —
But light from heaven dispels the gloom!
An angel voice falls on my ear,
" Whom seek'st thou, weeping mother, here?
He is not here: thy son hath risen —