If you refuse me once and think again,
I will complain.
You are deceiv'd, love is no work of art;
It must be got and born,
Not made and worn,
By every one that hath a heart.
Or do you think they more than once can die,
Whom you deny;
Who tell you of a thousand deaths a day,
Like the old poets feign
And tell the pain
They met, but in the common way?

Or do you think 't too soon to yield,
And quit the field?
Nor is that right; they yield that first entreat:
Once one may crave for love,
But more would prove

When Love, puffed up with rage of high disdain,
Resolved to make me pattern of his might,
Like foe, whose wits inclined to deadly spite,
Would often kill, to breed more feeling pain;
He would not, armed with beauty, only reign
On those affects which eas'ly yield to sight,
But virtue sets so high, that reason's light,
For all his strife can only bondage gain:
So that I live to pay a mortal fee,
Dead-palsy sick of all my chiefest parts;
Like those whom dreams make ugly monsters see,
And can cry " Help!" with naught but groans and starts.

I humm'd an air of sweet Mozart,
A tender sigh of love,
With just enough of jealous heart
To make it like the dove.
It haunted me thro' a field of oats
And o'er a thymy down
To where the sea with rocking boats
Wore sunset like a crown

Love they alone the joyful heart
The night wind & the leaf? —
That when we are sick with an evil smart
They whisper nought but grief.

I thought in my young days to find
Relief for breast & brow:
In the mere breathing of the wind,
And swaying of the bough.

But now, with no remorseful calm,
I look where dead men rest,
Half jealous of that pallid balm
Which sleeps on brow & breast.

Could we know how kin we are
With every little drooping flower
With every little distant star
And every viewless power.

Could we but be content to live
As flower below, or star above
And in our daily counsels give
Less logic and more love

The desert vulture
jealousy
The sea gull
love secure
He rests not thro' the flaming day;
Ev'n in the burning Heaven above
He soars but in the search of prey;
And that is jealous love.

The sea-gull dips his salt white wings

Descend O radiant God! — the plains are thirsting
To drink the cooling dews — and man is tir'd —
More faintly pull the Steeds —
Sink in thy chariot down.

Behold who from the Oceans crystal wave
Smiles lovingly and beckons! Knows her thy heart? —
More swiftly fly the Steeds
Thetis the Divine one beckons —

Quick from the chariot into her arms
Springs the God Driver — Love usurps the reins
Still halt the panting Steeds
And drink the cooling flood!

With gentle steps into the heavenly arch

5

Kindred forgets Thee.
I alone bear the Smart.
The small worm that frets Thee,
Is cold at my heart.

6


Farewell! the world now
Reclaims our first troth,
Claims — till this willow bough
Droop over both.

Can another love be born
In heart that love has left outworn;
Appearing dead to sweet desire
Its mouths of earth once mounts of fire?

Question first, if thou would'st know,
This wilful love that wasted so;
And ask one heart that wildly went
To ashes, why the flames are spent.

Was it to our heavens bared
Reflectively when forth it fared?
And knew it when it took the leap
Of whether shallow, whether deep?

Loved she an angel of the light?
All meaner forms must woman slight.
Or was the Prince of Darkness he,

The sparrow is rich in her nest
The bee has her desire
The lover in his love is blest
The poet in his brain of fire