As the rain falls
so does
your love

bathe every
open
object of the world—
In houses
the priceless dry
rooms
of illicit love
where we live
hear the wash of the
rain—

There
paintings
and fine
metalware
woven stuffs—
all the whorishness
of our
delight
sees
from its window

the spring wash
of your love
the falling
rain—

The trees
are become
beasts fresh-risen

As shews the Aire, when with a Rain-bow grac'd;
So smiles that Riband 'bout my Julia's waste:
Or like — — Nay 'tis that Zonulet of love,
Wherein all pleasures of the world are wove.

As I roved out on a May morning,
Being in the youthful spring,
I leaned my back close to the garden wall,
To hear the small birds sing.

And to hear two lovers talk, my dear,
To know what they would say,
That I might know a little of her mind
Before I would go away.

" Come sit you down, my heart, " he says,
" All on this pleasant green,
It's full three-quarters of a year and more
Since together you and I have been. "

" I will not sit on the grass, " she said,
" Now nor any other time,

As honey in wine / wine, honey
Alexis in Cleobulus
Cleobulus in Alexis
sweet-haired & lovely each
as he with whom the other
mingles . . . product
of such two entwined
potent
as vineyards of deathless Cypris.

An old maid early eer I knew
Ought but the love that on me grew
And now Im coverd oer & oer
And wish that I had been a Whore

O I cannot cannot find
The undaunted courage of a Virgin Mind
For Early I in love was crost
Before my flower of love was lost

Amusing myself with rocks, I sit peering into the valley;
searching for blossoms, I wander round and round the temple.
Again and again I hear the birds talking,
and here and there the voice of the stream.

A MONG his books he sits all day
— To think and read and write;
He does not smell the new-mown hay,
— The roses red and white.

I walk among them all alone,
— His silly, stupid wife;
The world seems tasteless, dead and done —
— An empty thing is life.

At night his window casts a square
— Of light upon the lawn;
I sometimes walk and watch it there
— Until the chill of dawn.

I have no brain to understand
— The books he loves to read;
I only have a heart and hand
— He does not seem to need.

Amo, Amas, I love a lass
As a cedar tall and slender;
Sweet cowslip's grace is her nominative case,
And she's of the feminine gender.

Rorum, Corum, sunt divorum,
Harum, Scarum divo;
Tag-rag, merry-derry, periwig and hat-band
Hic hoc horum genitivo.

Can I decline a Nymph divine?
Her voice as a flute is dulcis.
Her oculus bright, her manus white,
And soft, when I tacto, her pulse is.

Rorum, Corum, sunt divorum,
Harum, Scarum divo;
Tag-rag, merry-derry, periwig and hat-band
Hic hoc horum genitivo.

A LONG the garden ways just now
— I heard the flowers speak;
The white rose told me of your brow,
— The red rose of your cheek;
The lily of your bended head,
— The bindweed of your hair;
Each looked its loveliest and said
— You were more fair.

I went into the wood anon,
— And heard the wild birds sing,
How sweet you were, they warbled on,
— Piped, trilled, the selfsame thing.
Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause
— The burden did repeat,
And still began again because
— You were more sweet.

All other love is like the moone
That wexth and waneth as flowr in plain,
As flowr that faireth and falweth soone,
As day that clereth and endth in rain.

All other love biginth by blisse,
In wop and wo makth his ending;
No love ther n'is that evre habbe lisse
But what areste in Hevene-King,
Whos love is fresh and evre greene
And evre full without wanying;
His love sweeteth withoute teene,
His love is endless and a-ring.

All other love I flee for thee;
Tell me, tell me where thou list.
" In Marie mild and free