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Sonnet

“If there were any power in human love,”
Or in th' intensest longing of the heart,
Then should the oceans and the lands that part
Ye from my sight all unprevailing prove,
Then should the yearning of my bosom bring
Ye here, through space and distance infinite;
And life 'gainst love should be a baffled thing,
And circumstance 'gainst will lose all its might.
Shall not a childless mother's misery
Conjure the earth with such a potent spell—
A charm so desperate—as to compel
Nature to yield to her great agony?
Can I not think of ye till ye arise,

Longings of Love

I long to speak the deepest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, for fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter my secret in jest.
I make light of my pain, afraid you should do so.

I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, being afraid that you would not believe them.
That is why I disguise them in untruth,
saying the contrary of what I mean.
I make my pain appear absurd, afraid that you should do so.

I long to use the most precious words I have for you;

I Love Her Just the Same As Ever

I love her just the same as ever Though now she looks above me
Had she done wrong I could forgive her And would for ever love her
And do I kiss thy cheek again The rose o the creation
Those lips that rubies vie in vain As sweet as a carnation

I wish I was some little flower Some flower she likes the best
She'd pluck me in the sunny hour And pin me to her breast
She'd pin me to her breast for love And I that love should be
O could I such a favour prove Choice were such love to me

A black cloak o'er her shoulders thrown Made of the finest silk

Song of P'yongyang without Refrain

Although P'yongyang is my capital,
Although I love the repaired city,
Instead of parting I'd rather stop spinning
If you love me I'll follow you with tears.

Were the pearls to fall on the rock,
Would the thread be broken?
If I parted from you a thousand years,
Would my heart be changed?

Not knowing how wide the river is,
You pushed the boat off, boatman.
Not knowing how loose your wife is,
You had my love board the ferry, boatman.

The flower beyond the Taedong River,
When he has crossed the shore

Flapper

Love has crept out of her sealèd heart
As a field-bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.

Mischief has come in her dawning eyes,
And a glint of coloured iris brings
Such as lies along the folded wings
Of the bee before he flies.

Who, with a ruffling, careful breath,
Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite?
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight
In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth?

Love makes the burden of her voice.
The hum of his heavy, staggering wings

To Philaenis

I know you now: 'tis vain to try
And cozen me with tearful eye.
When round your waist my arms are thrown
It's me you love and me alone.
But when another has you, then
You vow that he's your king of men.

Sonnet 12

Once I was young, and fancy was my all,
My love, my joy, my grief, my hope, my fear,
And ever ready as an infant's tear,
Whate'er in Fancy's kingdom might befal,
Some quaint device had Fancy still at call,
With seemly verse to greet the coming cheer;
Such grief to soothe, such airy hope to rear,
To sing the birth-song, or the funeral,
Of such light love, it was a pleasant task;
But ill accord the quirks of wayward glee,
That wears affliction for a wanton mask,
With woes that bear not Fancy's livery;
With Hope that scorns of Fate its fate to ask,

The Artist's Prayer

Lord God, I have been guilty in my life,
Yet worshiped Beauty, and aspire to make
A work that shall have love and faith, heart-break,
Passion and joy and triumph after strife,
And all the glow wherewith the sky is rife.

And I implore thee, Master, for the sake
Of this, the longing of my soul, to give
Thy potent aid: since thou art pain and bliss
And faith and love and everything that is.
Look down upon my work and let it live
And be for ever lovely; and for this
Great boon of thine, I swear to do Thy will
Each several hour, all other wills above;

Ballad of the Despairing Husband

My wife and I lived all alone,
contention was our only bone.
I fought with her, she fought with me,
and things went on right merrily.

But now I live here by myself
with hardly a damn thing on the shelf,
and pass my days with little cheer
since I have parted from my dear.

Oh come home soon, I write to her.
Go screw yourself, is her answer.
Now what is that, for Christian word?
I hope she feeds on dried goose turd.

But still I love her, yes I do.
I love her and the children too.
I only think it fit that she