O Earth! Earth! Earth heare thou my voice, and be
Loving, and gentle for to cover me;
Banish'd from thee I live; ne'r to return,
Unlesse thou giv'st my small Remains an Urne.

Come away, love, come away
Where the men do gather hay;—
In the fruitful fields remote
Join with mine thy merry note,
In the toilsome pleasures where
Plenty drives away all care!
On the hills the flocks do browse,
And the dogs the echoes rouse;
All is life, and all is joy,
Where all hands do find employ.

Come away, love, come away
Where the men do gather hay;—
In the fruitful fields remote
Join with mine thy merry note,
In the toilsome pleasures where
Plenty drives away all care!
On the hills the flocks do browse,

Fast-anchor'd eternal O love! O woman I love!
O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!
Then separate, as disembodied or another born,
Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation,
I ascend, I float in the regions of your love O man,
O sharer of my roving life.

Would you from love escape? then beauty shun,
For though we can't encounter, we may run;
Who trusts himself to see it is undone.

Love, often your delicate fingers beckon,
And always I follow.
Oh, if I could stay, and possess your beauty
Beckoning always!

I SOUGHT my love in yonder flower,
Appearing like an angel star;
I sought her vainly, hour by hour,
Though she be fair as angels are.

I sought my love by yonder tree,
All musical with summer birds;
And sweet the songs, but not for me:
They could not give her sweeter words.

I sought her when the stars gleam'd west,
By stream that glides the veined round;
And I saw heaven in its breast,
And thought at last my love was found!

But, ah! each hope inconstant pass'd;
Nor flower, nor tree, nor streamlet's fall:

If you are you—
Then God is good,
Less merciful, less wise
Can scarce be He who made our mould
And doth our sum comprise;
His absolute must wide include
Our greater as His less,
Nor work of His surpass His will
In power to love and bless.

If you are you—
God must be God,
And guessing from your heart He made,
I hail you omen of His love
And cease to be afraid.

When the rose becomes incarnate in the lips, of woman, sweet
Will the night's arms be to dream in and the morn's embrace to meet:
When the sea's soul pours its pureness through the eyes of woman, then
Will the angel flash forth godlike through the answering eyes of men.

Woe to man who sees too clearly all love's mystic inner deeps,
For eternal pain pursues him when he wakes or when he sleeps;
Anguish changeless, everlasting,—for he knows love's heaven too well
And he seeks on earth to find it, and he finds not heaven, but hell.

Down in green valleys a town in Yorkshire,
I lived at my ease and was free from all care.
I lived at my ease and I got a sweetheart now,
He's my bonny Scotch laddie and his bonnet so blue.

A regiment of soldiers, oh you soon shall hear,
From England to Ireland they did both steer.
There is one lad among them and I do love so true,
For very well he becomes his bonnet so blue.

'Twas early one morning she rose from her bed,
She called to her Sally, her young waiting-maid,
‘Dress me as neat as your two hands can do,

Out of the tense awed darkness, my Frangepani comes;
Whilst the blades of Heaven flash round her, and the roll of thunder drums
My young heart leaps and dances, with exquisite joy and pain,
As storms within and storms without I meet my love in the rain.

“The rain is in love with you darling; it's kissing you everywhere,
Rain pattering over your small brown feet, rain in your curly hair;
Rain in the vale that your twin breasts make, as in delicate mounds they rise,
I hope there is rain in your heart, Frangepani, as rain half fills your eyes.”