They lived enamoured of the lovely moon,
The dawn and twilight on their gentle lake.
Then Passion marvellously born did shake
Their breast and drave them into the mid-noon.
Their lives did shrink to one desire, and soon
They rose fire-eyed to follow in the wake
Of one eternal thought,--when sudden brake
Their hearts. They died, in miserable swoon.
Of all their agony not a sound was heard.
The glory of the Earth is more than they.
She asks her lovely image of the day:
A flower grows, a million boughs are green,

They choose not ill their lot who choose
All quietly to live and die,
By Science sheltered or the Muse,
In unpretending privacy.
Proud epitaph—the world's acclaim—
These ask thou not; if, in their room,
Some few but love thy living name,
And household tears bedew the tomb.

"Oh love is fair, and love is rare;" my dear one she said,
"But love goes lightly over." I bowed her foolish head,
And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;
So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.

But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known,
And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own,
Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and young,
Have cried on love so bitterly, with so true a tongue?

Meaningless is the song of cuckoo and that of dove.
There's nothing so important on earth but love.

Meaningless is the gold of Africa, the ruby, the pearl.
There's nothing so important but the love of a girl.

Meaningless is the throne of America, the President's power,
There's nothing so important but the peak of love's tower.

There, where I saw her lovely beauty painted,
Where, Venus-like, my sacred goddess shineth,
There, with *precellent object mine eyes fainted,
That fair, but fatal star, my dole divineth.
As soon as morning in her light appeareth,
Her sweet salute, my mind o’erclouded, cleareth;
When night again the day’s delight bereaveth,
My heart’s true sacrifice she quick receiveth:
But night and day she craftily forsakes me,
To tedious day, to loathsome night betakes me.

There was a time, I need not name,
Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same
As still my soul hath been to thee.

And from that hour when first thy tongue
Confess'd a love which equall'd mine,
Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,
Unknown, and thus unfelt, by thine,

None, none hath sunk so deep as this---
To think how all that love hath flown;
Transient as every faithless kiss,
But transient in thy breast alone.

And yet my heart some solace knew,
When late I heard thy lips declare,

There was a time when I loved alone
Without dream or friend

There was a time when your love was untrue
When I endured such torment that

I don't remember anything now but
There was a river ... or a villa ...

You confused my heart so much
That love shrank to a riddle

Yet had I been the slightest bit disloyal
You would almost have taken my life

Time is like the snakes
Devouring jasmine in my courtyard

Who can I tell, this sad evening
How bright the line of fate once was on my hand?

There is only one story:
he loved her,
then stopped loving her,
while she did not
stop loving him.

There is only one story:
she loved him,
then stopped loving him,
while he did not
stop loving her.

The truth is simple:
you do not die
from love.

You only wish
you did.

There is dew for the flow'ret
And honey for the bee,
And bowers for the wild bird,
And love for you and me.
There are tears for the many
And pleasures for the few;
But let the world pass on, dear,
There's love for me and you.
There is care that will not leave us,
And pain that will not flee;
But on our hearth unalter'd
Sits Love—'tween you and me.
Our love it ne'er was reckon'd,
Yet good it is and true,
It's half the world to me, dear,
It's all the world to you.

THERE is a Lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleased my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.