love poetry

Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
Tomorrow, yesterday, today.

Law is the wisdom of the old
The impotent grandfathers shrilly scold;
The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,
Law is the senses of the young.

Law, says the priest with a priestly look,
Expounding to an unpriestly people,
Law is the words in my priestly book,
Law is my pulpit and my steeple.

Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,
Speaking clearly and most severely,

— a dream
we dreamed
each
separately
we two
of love
and of
desire —

that fused
in the night —

in the distance
over
the meadows
by day
impossible —
The city
disappeared
when
we arrived —

A dream
a little false
toward which
now
we stand
and stare
transfixed —

All at once
in the east
rising!

(Imaginary translation from the Spanish)

Through what extremes of passion
had you come, Sappho, to the peace
of deathless song?
As from an illness, as after drought
the streams released to flow
filling the fields with freshness
the birds drinking from every twig
and beasts from every hollow —
bellowing, singing of the unrestraint
to colors of a waking world.
So
after love a music streams above it.
For what is love? But music is
Villon beaten and cast off

You have come between me and the terrifying presence
of the moon, the stars, the sun and the earth
with all its crooked outgrowths. The desolation of life
has been darkened by your shadow, but toward me
your face has been a light, your hands have been
a soft rain, the voice from between your lips
a thing that carries me as the air carries a bird.
I have spread my arms out wide feeling you about me
and looked up and taken a deep breath! Deep,
deep! an April in every finger tip!

She

Love bitter-sweet — Sappho

1

Keep love and he wings,
with his bow,
up, mocking us,
keep love and he taunts us
and escapes.
Keep love and he sways apart
in another world,
outdistancing us
Keep love and he mocks,
ah, bitter and sweet,
your sweetness is more cruel
than your hurt
Honey and salt,
fire burst from the rocks
to meet fire
spilt from Hesperus.
Fire darted aloft and met fire:
in that moment

He and I sought together,
over the spattered table,
rhymes and flowers,
gifts for a name.

He said, among others,
I will bring
(and the phrase was just and good,
but not as good as mine,)
" the narcissus that loves the rain. "

We strove for a name,
while the light of the lamps burnt thin
and the outer dawn came in,
a ghost, the last at the feast
or the first,
to sit within
with the two that remained
to quibble in flowers and verse
over a girl's name.

Tune, Rothiemurchie

Chorus

Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou wert wont to do.

1

Full well thou knowest I love thee dear,
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear!
O did not Love exclaim, " Forbear,
" Nor use a faithful lover so." —
Fairest maid &c.

2

Then come, thou fairest of the fair,

Tune, This is no my ain house —

O this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be:
O weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her e'e.

I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that 's in her e'e.

O this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be:
Weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her e'e.

Tune, Deil tak the wars —

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion,
Round the wealthy, titled bride:
But when compar'd with real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride.
What are their showy treasures,
What are their noisy pleasures,
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art:

Tune, Roy's Wife

Chorus

Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy,
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy;
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus for pity. —

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katy:
Is this thy faithful swain's reward —
An aching broken heart, my Katy. —
Canst thou &c.

Farewel! and ne'er such sorrows tear