O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the wold!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!

O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!

I am a copper wire slung in the air,
Slim against the sun I make not even a clear line of shadow.
Night and day I keep singing--humming and thrumming:
It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and the
tears, the work and want,
Death and laughter of men and women passing through
me, carrier of your speech,
In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and the
shine drying,
A copper wire.

To make love with a stranger is the best.
There is no riddle and there is no test. --

To lie and love, not aching to make sense
Of this night in the mesh of reference.

To touch, unclaimed by fear of imminent day,
And understand, as only strangers may.

To feel the beat of foreign heart to heart
Preferring neither to prolong nor part.

To rest within the unknown arms and know
That this is all there is; that this is so.

Unbreakable, O Lord,
Is the love
That binds me to You:
Like a diamond,
It breaks the hammer that strikes it.

My heart goes into You
As the polish goes into the gold.
As the lotus lives in its water,
I live in You.

Like the bird
That gazes all night
At the passing moon,
I have lost myself dwelling in You.

O my Beloved - Return.

809

Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality,
Nay, it is Deity—

Unable they that love—to die
For Love reforms Vitality
Into Divinity.

How many hours in a day?
They number twenty four.
How many hours can one give love?
Well, lovers don't keep score.

A clock that tells the time of day
Can't measure gifts of love,
Not those expected here on earth,
Nor sent us from above.

The clock ticks on incessantly
When lovers are apart;
And time drags on relentlessly
With every beat of heart.

Yet, hearts beat so expectantly
When lovers plan to meet;
While clocks and watches stand aside,
With time in full retreat.

Two dozen roses sent to you

DANCINDA.
" NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain
" To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;
" If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,
" Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love."


Thus STREPHON spoke. DANCINDA thus reply'd :
`What must I do to gratify your pride ?
`Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art)
`How much you triumph in this tender heart ;
`What proof of love remains for me to grant ?
Yet still you teize me with some new complaint.
Oh ! would to heav'n ! -- but the fond wish is vain --

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

As when a father dies, his children draw
About the empty hearth, their loss to cheat
With uttered praise & love, & oft repeat
His all-familiar words with whispered awe.
The honored habit of his daily law,
Not for his sake, but theirs whose feeble feet
Need still that guiding lamp, whose faith, less sweet,
Misses that tempered patience without flaw,
So do we gather round thy vacant chair,
In thine own elm-roofed, amber-rivered town,
Master & Father! For the love we bear,
Not for thy fame's sake, do we weave this crown,

The longer I stare the lovelier
you look in my eyes (so made such
mirrors and spies) and I'm not done
yet as I enumerate the virtues
of your smile, gracious in defeat,
victorious in love, your breasts
and belly and below, the zone I'd
like to zone in on, your ankles
unshod, your brassiere and panties
strewn on the floor, you are
my Psyche (Greek for memory or soul)
and I will visit your sleep tonight
you won't see me but I'll be there
beside you for hours and when
you wake in my arms I will kiss