Why , lovely charmer, tell me why,
So very kind, and yet so shy?
Why does that cold forbidding air
Give damps of sorrow and despair?
Or why that smile my soul subdue,
And kindle up my flames anew?

In vain you strive with all your art,
By turns to freeze and fire my heart:
When I behold a face so fair,
So sweet a look, so soft an air,
My ravished soul is charmed all o'er,
I cannot love thee less nor more.

Lilies are both pure and fair,
Growing 'midst the roses there—
Roses, too, both red and pink,
Are quite beautiful, I think.

But of all bright blossoms—best—
Purest—fairest—loveliest,—
Could there be a sweeter thing
Than a primrose, blossoming?

Deaths rude abruptions often comes to part
The closest links that bind the human heart
Love kindred friendship beings all of fate
That like the gorgon knot to seperate
Are cut quite through their close li[n]ks to unchain
Never to join them as a whole again

What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see,
What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me!
As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed--
As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed--
As mellow pears above the crabs esteemèd be--
So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see
The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray,
The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay.
Or I may love let slip out of mine entire heart,
So deep reposèd in my breast is she for her desart!

Last, Stone, a little yet;
And then this dust forget.
But thou, fair Rose, bloom on.
For she who is gone
Was lovely too; nor would she grieve to be
Sharing in solitude her dreams with thee.

Thanks it is to holy love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.

Near Pyrrha in the days of yore
(So all the poets sang)
From crags and stones the world did soar,
Man from the bed-rock sprang.

Their hearts were formed of rock and stone,
Their souls were dark as night,
For on them never yet had shone
The heavenly torch of light.

Not yet they knew the rosy chain

Who has not found the heaven below
Will fail of it above.
God's residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.

I loved you once; love even yet, it may be,
Within my soul has not quite died away;
But let that cause you no anxiety;
I would not give you pain in any way.
I loved you helplessly, and hopelessly,
With jealousy, timidity, brought low;
I loved you so intensely, tenderly,
I pray to God another love you so.

Thou hast no human soul, O flower!
Thou heedest not if I am near;
But I may come at any hour
And take thy beauty without fear.

Thou hast no human smile to bless,
And not with tears thine eyes are wet;
But I may love thee and caress,
Without reproach, without regret.

Where love is king,
Ah, there is little need
To dance and sing,
With bridal-torch to flare
Amber and scatter light
Across the purple air,
To sing and dance
To flute-note and to reed.

Where love is come
(Ah, love is come indeed!)
Our limbs are numb
Before his fiery need;
With all their glad
Rapture of speech unsaid,
Before his fiery lips
Our lips are mute and dumb.

Ah, sound of reed,
Ah, flute and trumpet wail,
Ah, joy decreed—
The fringes of her veil
Are seared and white;