Acrostic

“Seek ye Love, ye fairy-sprites?
 Ask where reddest roses grow.
Rosy fancies he invites,
And in roses he delights,
 Have ye found him?” “No!”

“Seek again, and find the boy
 In Childhood's heart, so pure and clear.”
Now the fairies leap for joy,
 Crying, “Love is here!”

“Love has found his proper nest;
 And we guard him while he dozes
In a dream of peace and rest
 Rosier than roses.”

The trail's high up on the ridge, on one goes down
But the east wind and the falling water the concave slope without a name to the little bay
That has no name either. The fish-hawk plunges
Beyond the long rocks, rises with streaming silver; the eagle strikes down from the ridge and robs the fish-hawk;
The stunted redwoods neither grow nor grow old
Up the steep slope, remembering winter and the sea-wind; the ferns are maiden green by the falling water;
The seas whiten on the reefs; nothing has changed

" Our bark's on the water; come down, come down,
I'll weave for thy fair head a leafy crown,
And in it I'll blend the roses bright,
With asphodel woven of faint sunlight.
But more precious than these I'll twine the pearls
In the flowing locks of thy chestnut curls;
And the gem and the flow'r from wave and from tree
Shall form a bright diadem, Bianca, for thee.
The sea is calm, and I will guard thee;
Oh what, sweet love, should thus retard thee?
Descend, fairest maiden, descend to the sea,
And sail o'er the motionless waters with me. "

I hate this yoke; for the world's sake here put it on:
Knowing 'twill weigh as much on you till life is gone.
Knowing you love your freedom dear, as I love mine —
Knowing that love unchained has been our life's great wine:
Our one great wine (yet spent too soon, and serving none;
Of the two cups free love at last the deadly one).

We grant our meetings will be tame, not honey-sweet,
No longer turning to the tryst with flying feet.
We know the toil that now must come will spoil the bloom
And tenderness of passion's touch, and in its room

I

Ah, what is love, our love, she said,
Ah, what is human love?
A fire, of earthly fuel fed,
Full fain to soar above.
With lambent flame the void it lips,
And of the impassive air
Would frame for its ambitious steps
A heaven-attaining stair.
It wrestles and it climbs — Ah me,
Go look in little space,
White ash on blackened earth will be

O Heaven, and thou most loving family
Of sister stars, whose intermingled light
From the blue home of this most quiet night
Shineth for aye in conscious unity!
Why bend ye thus your kind looks still on me,
That am a wretch, whose passions' ceaseless fight,
And gnawing thoughts of self—an inborn blight—
But vex the warmth of your pure sympathy?
Mine is no cup for you, blest stars, to pour
The rich draught of your sympathies therein;
It mantled once with all the joys of sin,
And I have quaffed them; now is nothing more,

Who extols a wilderness?
Who hath praised indifference?
Foolish one, thy words are sweet,
But devoid of sense.

As the man who ne'er hath seen,
Or as he who cannot hear,
Is the heart that hath no part
In Love's hope and fear.

True, the blind do not perceive
The unsightly things around;
True, the deaf man trembleth not
At an awful sound.

But the face of Heaven and Earth,
And the murmur of the main,
Surely are a recompense
For a little pain.

So, tho' Love may not be free

Love is sweet, and so are flowers
Blooming in bright summer bowers;
So are waters, clear and pure,
In some hidden fountain's store;
So is the soft southern breeze
Sighing low among the trees;
So is the bright queen of heaven,
Reigning in the quiet even:
Yet the pallid moon may breed
Madness in man's feeble seed;
And the wind's soft influence
Often breathes the pestilence;
And the waves may sullied be
As they hurry to the sea;
Flowers soon must fade away —
Love endures but for a day.

O Lord, I cannot plead my love of Thee:
I plead Thy love of me;—
The shallow conduit hails the unfathomed sea.

Love is the very heart of spring;
Flocks fall to loving on the lea
And wildfowl love upon the wing,
When spring first enters like a sea.

When spring first enters like a sea
Into the heart of everything,
Bestir yourselves religiously,
Incense before love's altar bring.

Incense before love's altar bring,
Flowers from the flowering hawthorn tree,
Flowers from the margin of the spring,
For all the flowers are sweet to see.

Love is the very heart of spring;
When spring first enters like a sea