Hours when I love you, are like tranquil pools,
The liquid jewels of the forest, where
The hunted runner dips his hand, and cools
His fevered ankles, and the ferny air
Comes blowing softly on his heaving breast,
Hinting the sacred mystery of rest.

As I listen,
bells
tolling over Hatsu River
fade off,
one by one—
falling onto
my sleeves,
becoming

I look upon thy face, and reason says
It is the same;
I hear thy voice; and, just as others do,
I speak thy name.
So cold am I; (O love where hast thou flown
That lit my heart?)
So calm am I; no more thy touch doth make
My life-blood start
To serve thee Thou hast driven sweet love away.
Above thy head
No longer floats the glory of his wings
Eros has fled.

Hide me in your heart, Love,
None but we can know
How with every heart-beat
Love could grow and grow

Till the seed that branched abroad,
How, we could not guess,
Holds us in the shadow
Of its boughs that bless;

And the stars and mountains,
Earth and chanting sea
Seem a mighty music
Sung to you and me;

Time-forgotten meaning,
Poured for us apart,
Murmured out of all the world
To our secret heart.

Hide within my heart, Love.
Never may I know
My heart's beat from your heart's beat,
No, nor throe from throe!

Love , I marvel what you are!
Heaven in a pearl of dew,
Lilies hearted with a star—
All are you.

Spring along your forehead shines
And the summer blooms your breast.
Graces of autumnal vines
Round you rest.

Birds about a limpid rose
Making song and light of wing
While the warm wind sunny blows,—
So you sing.

Darling, if the little dust,
That I know is merely I,
Have availed to win your trust,

I will not
call it
merely his cruelty—
but just regard it
as the sad plight
of one
with no pledge
from a former life.

Never to see her nor hear her,
To speak her name aloud never;
Yet hold her always the dearer,
Yet love her forever.

To sleep, and dream I am near her,
To curse the daybeams that sever;
To hold her dearer and dearer,
To love her forever.

To see from day to day clearer
She blights both hope and endeavor;
Yet absolve her, bless her, revere her,
Yet love her forever.

Never to see her nor hear her,
To speak her name aloud never;
To hold her always the dearer,
To love her forever.

Vanquished and weary was my soul in me,
And my heart gasped after its much lament,
When sleep at length the painful languor sent.
And, as I slept (and wept incessantly),—
Through the keen fixedness of memory
Which I had cherished ere my tears were spent,
I passed to a new trance of wonderment;
Wherein a visible spirit I could see,
Which caught me up, and bore me to a place
Where my most gentle lady was alone;
And still before us a fire seemed to move,
Out of the which methought there came a moan
Uttering, ‘Grace, a little season, grace!

Lady of Heaven, the mother glorified
Of glory, which is Jesus,—He whose death
Us from the gates of Hell delivereth
And our first parents' error sets aside:—
Behold this earthly Love, how his darts glide—
How sharpened—to what fate—throughout this earth!
Pitiful Mother, partner of our birth,
Win these from following where his flight doth guide.
And O, inspire in me that holy love
Which leads the soul back to its origin,
Till of all other love the link do fail.
This water only can this fire reprove,—
Only such cure suffice for suchlike sin;

Why do I think of stairways
With a rush of hurt surprise?
Wistful as forgotten love
In remembered eyes;
And fitful as the flutter
Of little draughts of air
That linger on a stairway
As though they loved it there.

New and shining stairways,
Stairways worn and old,
Where rooms are prison places
And corridors are cold,
You intrigue with fancy,
You challenge with a lore
Elusive as a moon's light
Shadowing a floor.

You speak to me not only
With the lure of storied art—
For wonder of old footsteps
Lies lightly on my heart;