Tell me not, friend, you are unkind,
If ink and books laid by,
You turn up in a uniform
Looking all smart and spry.

I thought your ink one horrid smudge,
Your books one pile of trash,
And with less fear of smear embrace
A sword, a belt, a sash.

Yet this inconstancy forgive,
Though gold lace I adore,
I could not love the lace so much
Loved I not Lovelace more.

There are who say we are but dust,
We may be soon, but are not yet,
Nor should be while in Love we trust
And never what he taught forget.

Ah, do not say you love me as a rose,
A rose that blossoms for a day and dies,
But rather as a tranquil, guiding star
That lights the evening skies.

Ah, do not say you love me as a jewel,
A jewel,—a tinseled trinket, trivial, vain;
But rather as a rainbow shining through
A world of wailing rain.

Ah, do not say you love me as the spring,
The spring that lingers all too brief a time,
But rather as a happy, sun-winged song
Of sweet, immortal rhyme.

Who loves a tree he loves the life that springs in star and clod;
He loves the love that gilds the clouds and greens the April sod;
He loves the Wide Beneficence. His soul takes hold on God.

A tree is one of nature's words, a word of peace to man,
A word that tells of central strength from whence all things began,
A word to preach tranquillity to all our restless clan.

Ah, bare must be the shadeless ways, and bleak the path must be,
Of him who, having open eyes, has never learned to see,
And so has never learned to love the beauty of a tree.

GOOD-NIGHT ! good-night! for the day is done,
And the shadow-ships lie long
Where the moon shines dim o'er the curved sea's rim,
And the wild wind sings its song.

The wild wind sings to the sea, my love—
Sing, heart of my heart, to me,
While the waves' dull roar on the sounding shore
Fills up the melody;

Till I rest in peace in thine arms, my love;
Till slumber has loosed the bars,
And my thought flies forth, as a gull to the north,
To wander among the stars.

The limbs remember blood and fire:
a hurt that's done may in the mind
sink and lose identity;

for the mind has reasons of its own
for covering with an eyeless mask
marks of mortality.

The limbs remember fire and joy
and flesh to flesh is benison
of entity;

but the mind has reasons of its own
for circumventing life and love's

Tho' nought, amid these darkened groves,
But various groups of death appear,
Scar'd at the sight, tho' fly the Loves,
And Sickness saddens all the year,

Yet, Clara, where you deign to stay,
Your sense and manners charm us so,
E'en sick'ning Sorrow's self looks gay,
And smiles amid the wreck of woe.

Roses in bosom, wine in hand And she I love submiss is;
The Sultan of the world my slave On such a day as this is.

Bring ye no candles; for, to night, In this our congregation,
The moon of the Friend's cheek's at full And other light dismisses.

Wine in our order lawful is; But, in thy face's absence,
O cypress-statured rose, the cup Forbidden and amiss is.

No perfumes for our banquet mix; For, from thy tress, each moment,
Borne to the nostrils of our soul The scent of ambergris is.

Mine ear is all ta'en up with wail Of reed and clang of harpstrings;

O Slain for love of me, canst Thou be cold,
Be cold and far away in my distress:
Is Thy love also changed growing less and less
That carried me thro' all the days of old?—
O Slain for love of me, O Love untold,
See how I flag and fail thro' weariness:
I flag, while sleepless foes dog me and press
On me; behold O Lord, O Love behold.
I am sick for home, the home of love indeed;
I am sick for Love, that dearest name for Thee:
Thou Who hast bled, see how my heart doth bleed;
Open Thy bleeding Side and let me in;

In the still of the night,
As I gaze from my window
At the moon in its flight,
My thoughts all stray to you.
In the still of the night,
While the world is in slumber,
Oh, the times without number,
Darling, when I say to you,
“Do you love me as I love you?
Are you my life-to-be, my dream come true?”
Or will this dream of mine
Fade out of sight
Like the moon
Growing dim
On the rim
Of the hill
In the chill,
Still