Maid of fifteen, in childlike beauty dight,
Fair head with crinkled ringlets golden-tressed,
Rose-petalled forehead, cheeks like amethyst,
Laughter that lifts the soul to Heaven's delight;

And neck like snow, and throat than milk more white,
And heartfull-blossomed neath a budding breast—
Beauty divine in human form expressed,
And virtue worthy of that beauty bright—

An eye whose light can change the night to day,
A gentle hand that smooths away my care,
Yet holds my life caught in its fingers' snare;

I loved, was loved. The puff of smoke called Life
Could give no more. Nothing but dreams remain.
So, having given over bootless strife,
I lie where I may dream, nor dream in vain.

O come, loved Spirit, come to me!
My heart, my heart, invoketh thee.
Though dark and cheerless broods my night,
Thy presence fills it all with light.

O come, loved Spirit, gently come!
O make beside my heart thy home!
Look on me with endearing smile,—
That look shall all my woes beguile.

O be thou ever, ever nigh!
Bend on me thy complacent eye:
Then shall my heart swell up to thee,
My soul be large, my spirit free.

Bear me away, through sun and star,
To worlds of softest light afar:
Then bid my wearied eyelids close,

Oh , that I were a lovely flower
In Christ his bower;
Or that I were a weed, to fade
Under his shade.
But how can I a weed become
If I am shadowed with the Son?

The kiss of friendship, kind and calm,
May fall upon the brow like balm;
A deeper tenderness may speak
In precious pledges on the cheek;
Thrice dear may be, when young lips meet,
Love's dewy pressure, close and sweet;—
But more than all the rest I prize
The faithful lips that kiss my eyes.

Smile, lady, smile, when courtly lips
Touch reverently your finger-tips;
Blush, happy maiden, when you feel
The lips which press love's glowing seal;
But as the slow years darklier roll,
Grown wiser, the experienced soul

The spot where I, upon my winding way,
That maiden met, in beauty's mould designed,
Who, passing swiftly as the hasty wind,
Gave me such bliss as beauteous looks convey;
Gladly to that loved spot I fain would stray,
There carve love-emblems on the tree's fair rind,
With fairest wreathèd flowers my temples bind,
And in cool shade—to dream—my body lay.
But so her glances bright confused my mind,
So was I blinded by her beauteous face,
That long I tottered like a drunken man;
And now, tho' strive my thoughts the best they can,

Not in sleep I saw it, but in daylight,
Clear and beautiful by day before me:
Saw a meadow overgrown with daisies,
Round a cottage white in green embowered;
Statues of the gods gleam in the arbor.
And the lady that I walk with loves me,
With a quiet spirit in the coolness
And the peacefulness of this white dwelling,
Full of beauty waiting till we enter.

A tree is more than a shadow
Blurred against the sky,
More than ink spilled on the fringe
Of white clouds floating by.
A tree is more than an April design
Or a blighted winter bough
Where love and music used to be.
A tree is something in me,
Very still and lonely now.

A SPIRIT of Love, with Love's intelligence,
Maketh his sojourn alway in my breast,
Maintaining me in perfect joy and rest;
Nor could I live an hour, were he gone thence:
Through whom my love hath such full permanence
That thereby other loves seem dispossess'd.
I have no pain, nor am with sighs oppress'd,
So calm is the benignant influence.
Because this spirit of Love, who speaks to me
Of my dear lady's tenderness and worth,
Says: ‘More than thus to love her seek thou not,
Even as she loves thee in her wedded thought;

And art Thou come, blest Babe, and come to me?
Come down to teach me how to come to Thee?

Welcome, thrice welcome to my panting soul,
Which, as it loves, doth grieve that 'tis so foul.

The less 'tis fit for Thee come from above,
The more it needs Thee, and the more I love.