There is a warm and gentle atmosphere
About the form of one we love, and thus
As in a tender mist our spirits are
Wrapped in the of that which is to us
The health of life's own life--

And who feels discord now or sorrow?
Love is the universe to-day--
These are the slaves of dim to-morrow,
Darkening Life's labyrinthine way.

I
I loved--alas! our life is love;
But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.
I thought, but not as now I do,
Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore,
Of all that men had thought before,
And all that Nature shows, and more.
II

And still I love and still I think,
But strangely, for my heart can drink
The dregs of such despair, and live,
And love; . . .
And if I think, my thoughts come fast,
I mix the present with the past,
And each seems uglier than the last.
III

Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering I love you, before long I die ,
I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.

Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,
Return in peace to the ocean my love,
I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much separated,
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,

In many ways does the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal;
But in far more th' estranged heart lets know
The absence of the love, which yet it fain would shew.
[before May 1827]

Lady. If Love be dead —
Poet. And I aver it!
Lady. Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried?
Poet. Love lies buried where 'twas born:
Oh, gentle dame! think it no scorn
If, in my fancy, I presume
To call thy bosom poor Love's Tomb.
And on that tomb to read the line: —
" Here lies a Love that once seem'd mine,
But caught a chill, as I divine,
And died at length of a Decline."

I had you for a servant, once, Dick Brome;
And you performed a servant's faithful parts:
Now, you are got into a nearer room,
Of fellowship, professing my old arts.
And you do do them well, with good applause,
Which you have justly gained from the stage,
By observation of those comic laws
Which I, your master, first did teach the age.
You learned it well; and, for it, served your time,
A prenticeship: which few do nowadays.
Now each court hobby-horse will wince in rhyme;
Both learned, and unlearned, all write plays.

Made worthy by excess of Love
A wretch thro' power of Happiness,
And poor from wealth, I dare not use.

This separation is, alas!
Too great a punishment to bear:
O take my Life, or let me pass
That Life, that happy Life, with her!

The dazzling charm of outward Form,
The power of Gold, the pride of Birth,
Have taken Woman's heart by storm,
Supplied the place of inward worth.

Is not true Love of higher price,
Than outward Form, tho' fair to see,
Wealth's glitt'ring fairy-dome of Ice,
Or echo of proud Ancestry?

Two wedded Hearts, if e'er were such,
Imprison'd in adjoining cells
Across whose thin partition wall
The Builder left one narrow rent,
And there most content in discontent
A Joy with itself at strife,
Die into an intenser Life/

Another Version

The Builder left one narrow rent,
Two wedded Hearts, if e'er were such,
Contented most in discontent
There cling, and try in vain to touch!
O Joy with thy own Joy at Strife,
That yearning for the Realm above
Would'st die into intenser Life,
And union absolute of Love.

The singing Kettle & the purring Cat,
The gentle Breathing of the cradled Babe,
The silence of the Mother's love-bright Eye,
And tender Smile answ'ring its smile of Sleep.