Thereis no anguish like the mourning heart,That mourns for its lost love and mourns in vain;That is the anguish which defies all pain—Torture at which Prometheus’ soul would start!What agony can still the heart of joy,That holds its loved one to its surging breast?All hell can rage and not disturb that rest—Then Stygian tortures are but pain’s alloy!And what is absence but a gaping sore,That aches and suffers every stinging thrust?A burning lesion, or a bleeding rent,That rives the soul of lovers to the core?When hearts in absence stronger grow, then mustThose hearts have held no lover’s aliment!
Thereis no anguish like the mourning heart,That mourns for its lost love and mourns in vain;That is the anguish which defies all pain—Torture at which Prometheus’ soul would start!What agony can still the heart of joy,That holds its loved one to its surging breast?All hell can rage and not disturb that rest—Then Stygian tortures are but pain’s alloy!And what is absence but a gaping sore,That aches and suffers every stinging thrust?A burning lesion, or a bleeding rent,That rives the soul of lovers to the core?When hearts in absence stronger grow, then mustThose hearts have held no lover’s aliment!
Thereis no anguish like the mourning heart,That mourns for its lost love and mourns in vain;That is the anguish which defies all pain—Torture at which Prometheus’ soul would start!
What agony can still the heart of joy,That holds its loved one to its surging breast?All hell can rage and not disturb that rest—Then Stygian tortures are but pain’s alloy!
And what is absence but a gaping sore,That aches and suffers every stinging thrust?A burning lesion, or a bleeding rent,That rives the soul of lovers to the core?When hearts in absence stronger grow, then mustThose hearts have held no lover’s aliment!
Themorning hath the sun for mate,The night the moon for wife;The wind and I, like things of hate,Go on alone through life.The wind is cold, the wind is hot,The wind is fierce and wild;It stays not long in any spot,It never is beguiled.Perhaps the wind might pause awhileAnd whisper to the reeds,If they would only rise and smile,And ask the lone wind’s needs.
Themorning hath the sun for mate,The night the moon for wife;The wind and I, like things of hate,Go on alone through life.The wind is cold, the wind is hot,The wind is fierce and wild;It stays not long in any spot,It never is beguiled.Perhaps the wind might pause awhileAnd whisper to the reeds,If they would only rise and smile,And ask the lone wind’s needs.
Themorning hath the sun for mate,The night the moon for wife;The wind and I, like things of hate,Go on alone through life.
The wind is cold, the wind is hot,The wind is fierce and wild;It stays not long in any spot,It never is beguiled.
Perhaps the wind might pause awhileAnd whisper to the reeds,If they would only rise and smile,And ask the lone wind’s needs.
Here, let it be! I will not ask,Dear God, what is my destiny.With courage I will face the task—So, life, make what you will of me.Yet I would know what is this pain,Which smites with cruel force my mind?And what can sorrow hope to gainIf woe is all my heart can find?Why linger here? There must be restIn some fair haven Thou hast made,Or is the region of the blestAs vain a place as this? Then fadeSweet hope! And let the clouds of nightAssemble o’er my weary head—Why question more about the fightOf souls that battle with the dead?Still destiny may be some songMy aching heart might learn to sing,A melody, both sweet and long,And singing, heaven nearer bring!Perhaps my doubts are shadows chill;My mind may harbour questions vain.My destiny! the merest rillOn ocean’s wide, unresting main.Then Life and Death may count as past—Things gone beneath the sodden clay.For some great part, Thou, me might cast,To light dejection’s gloomy day.Yes, there is Love! Love ever bright,Love worshipping the soul of herWho came from thee—with morn’s first light—Embodiment of all things fair.This let me do. Take Death! Take Life!And leave me Love’s celestial glow.And save me from the toil and strife,Which loveless souls are doomed to know.
Here, let it be! I will not ask,Dear God, what is my destiny.With courage I will face the task—So, life, make what you will of me.Yet I would know what is this pain,Which smites with cruel force my mind?And what can sorrow hope to gainIf woe is all my heart can find?Why linger here? There must be restIn some fair haven Thou hast made,Or is the region of the blestAs vain a place as this? Then fadeSweet hope! And let the clouds of nightAssemble o’er my weary head—Why question more about the fightOf souls that battle with the dead?Still destiny may be some songMy aching heart might learn to sing,A melody, both sweet and long,And singing, heaven nearer bring!Perhaps my doubts are shadows chill;My mind may harbour questions vain.My destiny! the merest rillOn ocean’s wide, unresting main.Then Life and Death may count as past—Things gone beneath the sodden clay.For some great part, Thou, me might cast,To light dejection’s gloomy day.Yes, there is Love! Love ever bright,Love worshipping the soul of herWho came from thee—with morn’s first light—Embodiment of all things fair.This let me do. Take Death! Take Life!And leave me Love’s celestial glow.And save me from the toil and strife,Which loveless souls are doomed to know.
Here, let it be! I will not ask,Dear God, what is my destiny.With courage I will face the task—So, life, make what you will of me.
Yet I would know what is this pain,Which smites with cruel force my mind?And what can sorrow hope to gainIf woe is all my heart can find?
Why linger here? There must be restIn some fair haven Thou hast made,Or is the region of the blestAs vain a place as this? Then fade
Sweet hope! And let the clouds of nightAssemble o’er my weary head—Why question more about the fightOf souls that battle with the dead?
Still destiny may be some songMy aching heart might learn to sing,A melody, both sweet and long,And singing, heaven nearer bring!
Perhaps my doubts are shadows chill;My mind may harbour questions vain.My destiny! the merest rillOn ocean’s wide, unresting main.
Then Life and Death may count as past—Things gone beneath the sodden clay.For some great part, Thou, me might cast,To light dejection’s gloomy day.
Yes, there is Love! Love ever bright,Love worshipping the soul of herWho came from thee—with morn’s first light—Embodiment of all things fair.
This let me do. Take Death! Take Life!And leave me Love’s celestial glow.And save me from the toil and strife,Which loveless souls are doomed to know.
Speak, east wind, did you meet my loveWhen you came o’er the sea?And did she give a message kindFor you to bring to me?When you were passing through the hauntsOf happy, garish men,Did you once linger in her hair,And murmur to her thenA word, reminding her of oneFar out on western plains,Who looks, and waits, from morn ’til night,With hope that never wanes?With hope that she will send some word—One moment of her mind—To prove that when we meet againMy true love I shall find?No message, east wind, do you bring,You leave me lone and cold,Farewell, thou heartless wanderer,Go, chilling young and old!Go journeys long in search of hillsWhere only echoes dwell,Wild east wind, scorn the love-lorn ones,Who would their sad tales tell.
Speak, east wind, did you meet my loveWhen you came o’er the sea?And did she give a message kindFor you to bring to me?When you were passing through the hauntsOf happy, garish men,Did you once linger in her hair,And murmur to her thenA word, reminding her of oneFar out on western plains,Who looks, and waits, from morn ’til night,With hope that never wanes?With hope that she will send some word—One moment of her mind—To prove that when we meet againMy true love I shall find?No message, east wind, do you bring,You leave me lone and cold,Farewell, thou heartless wanderer,Go, chilling young and old!Go journeys long in search of hillsWhere only echoes dwell,Wild east wind, scorn the love-lorn ones,Who would their sad tales tell.
Speak, east wind, did you meet my loveWhen you came o’er the sea?And did she give a message kindFor you to bring to me?
When you were passing through the hauntsOf happy, garish men,Did you once linger in her hair,And murmur to her then
A word, reminding her of oneFar out on western plains,Who looks, and waits, from morn ’til night,With hope that never wanes?
With hope that she will send some word—One moment of her mind—To prove that when we meet againMy true love I shall find?
No message, east wind, do you bring,You leave me lone and cold,Farewell, thou heartless wanderer,Go, chilling young and old!
Go journeys long in search of hillsWhere only echoes dwell,Wild east wind, scorn the love-lorn ones,Who would their sad tales tell.
Whereis peace but on your breast?Where does slumbering joy lie down?Where do hope and gladness rest,Like bright jewels in a crown?All are found where your heart beats;Like strong children in repose,When the twilight hour retreats,And day’s golden moments close!Lull me, dearest, into sleep,Let me find a pillow fairOn your breast, where breathings deepRock me, far away from care.Kiss my aching brow, and then—Lay your hands upon my head;Peace will come to me again,When your bosom is my bed.
Whereis peace but on your breast?Where does slumbering joy lie down?Where do hope and gladness rest,Like bright jewels in a crown?All are found where your heart beats;Like strong children in repose,When the twilight hour retreats,And day’s golden moments close!Lull me, dearest, into sleep,Let me find a pillow fairOn your breast, where breathings deepRock me, far away from care.Kiss my aching brow, and then—Lay your hands upon my head;Peace will come to me again,When your bosom is my bed.
Whereis peace but on your breast?Where does slumbering joy lie down?Where do hope and gladness rest,Like bright jewels in a crown?
All are found where your heart beats;Like strong children in repose,When the twilight hour retreats,And day’s golden moments close!
Lull me, dearest, into sleep,Let me find a pillow fairOn your breast, where breathings deepRock me, far away from care.
Kiss my aching brow, and then—Lay your hands upon my head;Peace will come to me again,When your bosom is my bed.
Whenall my friends say “He is gone,”And foes agree to let me rest,When ling’ring night falls down uponThe heart that ached, the restless breast.There is a way to conquer death,To rob the grey shade of its spoil,E’en when is spent my last deep breathAnd naught is left of love and toil.Then come, dear love, and look on me;Pour your bright spirit in your glance;My soul suffuse with joy of thee,Straight from your eyes which do enhanceThe light of heaven! One look will raiseMe from my bier, and make me whole,Restoring youth and gladsome days—Elixir of my yearning soul!
Whenall my friends say “He is gone,”And foes agree to let me rest,When ling’ring night falls down uponThe heart that ached, the restless breast.There is a way to conquer death,To rob the grey shade of its spoil,E’en when is spent my last deep breathAnd naught is left of love and toil.Then come, dear love, and look on me;Pour your bright spirit in your glance;My soul suffuse with joy of thee,Straight from your eyes which do enhanceThe light of heaven! One look will raiseMe from my bier, and make me whole,Restoring youth and gladsome days—Elixir of my yearning soul!
Whenall my friends say “He is gone,”And foes agree to let me rest,When ling’ring night falls down uponThe heart that ached, the restless breast.
There is a way to conquer death,To rob the grey shade of its spoil,E’en when is spent my last deep breathAnd naught is left of love and toil.
Then come, dear love, and look on me;Pour your bright spirit in your glance;My soul suffuse with joy of thee,Straight from your eyes which do enhance
The light of heaven! One look will raiseMe from my bier, and make me whole,Restoring youth and gladsome days—Elixir of my yearning soul!
Dearlove, when droop my weary eyes,And patient Death comes near and cries:“Tired soul, come forth, and follow me.”I ask that thou, my love, shall beWrapped close to my desiring breast,So at the last I shall be blestWith transports of thy laughter. LaughIn my arms ecstatic glee,And cheer my soul, and I shall quaffThy fragrant breath and smile at thee.Dear heart of joy, let my last hourKnow all thy wondrous merry power—Rich in the graces of thy charms,Laugh on through each entrancing kiss;When I am locked in thy dear armsLaugh me away to Death in bliss.
Dearlove, when droop my weary eyes,And patient Death comes near and cries:“Tired soul, come forth, and follow me.”I ask that thou, my love, shall beWrapped close to my desiring breast,So at the last I shall be blestWith transports of thy laughter. LaughIn my arms ecstatic glee,And cheer my soul, and I shall quaffThy fragrant breath and smile at thee.Dear heart of joy, let my last hourKnow all thy wondrous merry power—Rich in the graces of thy charms,Laugh on through each entrancing kiss;When I am locked in thy dear armsLaugh me away to Death in bliss.
Dearlove, when droop my weary eyes,And patient Death comes near and cries:“Tired soul, come forth, and follow me.”I ask that thou, my love, shall beWrapped close to my desiring breast,So at the last I shall be blestWith transports of thy laughter. LaughIn my arms ecstatic glee,And cheer my soul, and I shall quaffThy fragrant breath and smile at thee.Dear heart of joy, let my last hourKnow all thy wondrous merry power—Rich in the graces of thy charms,Laugh on through each entrancing kiss;When I am locked in thy dear armsLaugh me away to Death in bliss.
I wasill, and with a touchShe reclaimed my waning strength.Bless her, God, and give her muchJoy in love, and days of length.What is tragicPain to me?Such her magic—Alchemy.She smiled on meWhen I was illAnd, lo!From pain set freeI goAnd drink my fillAt her beauty’s fountain flowing!Oh, the bliss of breathingFragrance from her graces blowing;Grace like colour seething,From a thousand flowers,Scenting June’s rich bowers.I am well, and she has madeEvery sorrowBring a morrowHappier than today.Every sadness is repaidWith rejoicing;Like a voicingWoodland in the month of May.Merry is her soul,And witty, too, her nimble mind—Like a golden bowlOf medicines of every kind.Laughter lurks in all her dimples,Loving hands of hers give simples—Soothing, cheering, happy one—Treasure of the golden sun!
I wasill, and with a touchShe reclaimed my waning strength.Bless her, God, and give her muchJoy in love, and days of length.What is tragicPain to me?Such her magic—Alchemy.She smiled on meWhen I was illAnd, lo!From pain set freeI goAnd drink my fillAt her beauty’s fountain flowing!Oh, the bliss of breathingFragrance from her graces blowing;Grace like colour seething,From a thousand flowers,Scenting June’s rich bowers.I am well, and she has madeEvery sorrowBring a morrowHappier than today.Every sadness is repaidWith rejoicing;Like a voicingWoodland in the month of May.Merry is her soul,And witty, too, her nimble mind—Like a golden bowlOf medicines of every kind.Laughter lurks in all her dimples,Loving hands of hers give simples—Soothing, cheering, happy one—Treasure of the golden sun!
I wasill, and with a touchShe reclaimed my waning strength.Bless her, God, and give her muchJoy in love, and days of length.What is tragicPain to me?Such her magic—Alchemy.She smiled on meWhen I was illAnd, lo!From pain set freeI goAnd drink my fillAt her beauty’s fountain flowing!Oh, the bliss of breathingFragrance from her graces blowing;Grace like colour seething,From a thousand flowers,Scenting June’s rich bowers.I am well, and she has madeEvery sorrowBring a morrowHappier than today.Every sadness is repaidWith rejoicing;Like a voicingWoodland in the month of May.Merry is her soul,And witty, too, her nimble mind—Like a golden bowlOf medicines of every kind.Laughter lurks in all her dimples,Loving hands of hers give simples—Soothing, cheering, happy one—Treasure of the golden sun!
Takeevery joy my nature holds,Take every bliss my heart enfolds;Come, capture every one,While youth and beauty run,Locked in each other’s lithesome arms—Like flowers entwined.Cast from thy mindThose fearful, hindering alarms.Take, to the last deep drop,Nor think when you would stop,My strength’s rich wine.Love made divineThe rapturous blood of me for you.Red, full and bright,Like Vallambrosa’s vineyard dewOn autumn’s night.My mind explore, its treasures take,So long as joy is thereTo find, and leave it bareOf every thought that might awakeNew transports in your soul—Then break the empty bowl,So no one else may useThe vessel, should one choose.My body clean and sweet enjoy,’Twas made to serve your least delight,And when at last our passions cloy,In one fierce moment, rise and smiteWith withering scorn,And leave it shornOf all its energy and force.Then, blasted, reel it down death’s course.My soul? Nay, that, my love, you cannot hurt,For it is thee. Look, and it will assertYour image like a faithful stream,Reflecting every feature of your form,Showing the slightest, quickest gleamFrom eyes which make it pass from cold to warm.It is, O love, your heart, your pulse, your breath,And only in your loss can it know death!Here I surrender all my mind,My heart, my body, all you findIn thought, in blood, in flesh, to serve thee wellIn giving heaven—then, thou, consign to hellWhate’er is left of me.E’en then my joy shall be—That it was wrecked by thee.
Takeevery joy my nature holds,Take every bliss my heart enfolds;Come, capture every one,While youth and beauty run,Locked in each other’s lithesome arms—Like flowers entwined.Cast from thy mindThose fearful, hindering alarms.Take, to the last deep drop,Nor think when you would stop,My strength’s rich wine.Love made divineThe rapturous blood of me for you.Red, full and bright,Like Vallambrosa’s vineyard dewOn autumn’s night.My mind explore, its treasures take,So long as joy is thereTo find, and leave it bareOf every thought that might awakeNew transports in your soul—Then break the empty bowl,So no one else may useThe vessel, should one choose.My body clean and sweet enjoy,’Twas made to serve your least delight,And when at last our passions cloy,In one fierce moment, rise and smiteWith withering scorn,And leave it shornOf all its energy and force.Then, blasted, reel it down death’s course.My soul? Nay, that, my love, you cannot hurt,For it is thee. Look, and it will assertYour image like a faithful stream,Reflecting every feature of your form,Showing the slightest, quickest gleamFrom eyes which make it pass from cold to warm.It is, O love, your heart, your pulse, your breath,And only in your loss can it know death!Here I surrender all my mind,My heart, my body, all you findIn thought, in blood, in flesh, to serve thee wellIn giving heaven—then, thou, consign to hellWhate’er is left of me.E’en then my joy shall be—That it was wrecked by thee.
Takeevery joy my nature holds,Take every bliss my heart enfolds;Come, capture every one,While youth and beauty run,Locked in each other’s lithesome arms—Like flowers entwined.Cast from thy mindThose fearful, hindering alarms.Take, to the last deep drop,Nor think when you would stop,My strength’s rich wine.Love made divineThe rapturous blood of me for you.Red, full and bright,Like Vallambrosa’s vineyard dewOn autumn’s night.My mind explore, its treasures take,So long as joy is thereTo find, and leave it bareOf every thought that might awakeNew transports in your soul—Then break the empty bowl,So no one else may useThe vessel, should one choose.My body clean and sweet enjoy,’Twas made to serve your least delight,And when at last our passions cloy,In one fierce moment, rise and smiteWith withering scorn,And leave it shornOf all its energy and force.Then, blasted, reel it down death’s course.My soul? Nay, that, my love, you cannot hurt,For it is thee. Look, and it will assertYour image like a faithful stream,Reflecting every feature of your form,Showing the slightest, quickest gleamFrom eyes which make it pass from cold to warm.It is, O love, your heart, your pulse, your breath,And only in your loss can it know death!Here I surrender all my mind,My heart, my body, all you findIn thought, in blood, in flesh, to serve thee wellIn giving heaven—then, thou, consign to hellWhate’er is left of me.E’en then my joy shall be—That it was wrecked by thee.
Whatis day without the sun?The night without the stars?Ocean’s music would not run,Without the sandy bars!Summer days without a rose—A fruitless Autumn wouldMake the year a time of woes—Like Spring without a bud.What am I without my mate?Without her bonny face?A wanderer disconsolate—A being out of place.She is sun and stars to me—The Spring, and Summer too;Autumn’s fruit her love will be,To sweeten all I do!
Whatis day without the sun?The night without the stars?Ocean’s music would not run,Without the sandy bars!Summer days without a rose—A fruitless Autumn wouldMake the year a time of woes—Like Spring without a bud.What am I without my mate?Without her bonny face?A wanderer disconsolate—A being out of place.She is sun and stars to me—The Spring, and Summer too;Autumn’s fruit her love will be,To sweeten all I do!
Whatis day without the sun?The night without the stars?Ocean’s music would not run,Without the sandy bars!
Summer days without a rose—A fruitless Autumn wouldMake the year a time of woes—Like Spring without a bud.
What am I without my mate?Without her bonny face?A wanderer disconsolate—A being out of place.
She is sun and stars to me—The Spring, and Summer too;Autumn’s fruit her love will be,To sweeten all I do!
Shecometh like the sweet reprieving morn,Clad in her flowing robes of golden light;God’s angel of the day to clear the sightOf him condemned long years, and left forlorn,Deep in the dungeon of his loveless life,With every yearning for a love supreme—Love shining only in a cruel dream!And now his love appears to end the strife.Oh, love, thou gentle messenger, bend down,Thy touch is soothing and thy smile is kind;Speak to this sorrowing heart and bid its fearsBe gone forevermore. When as thy crownAppears at dawn, and night flies on the wind,So banish all my sorrows and their tears.
Shecometh like the sweet reprieving morn,Clad in her flowing robes of golden light;God’s angel of the day to clear the sightOf him condemned long years, and left forlorn,Deep in the dungeon of his loveless life,With every yearning for a love supreme—Love shining only in a cruel dream!And now his love appears to end the strife.Oh, love, thou gentle messenger, bend down,Thy touch is soothing and thy smile is kind;Speak to this sorrowing heart and bid its fearsBe gone forevermore. When as thy crownAppears at dawn, and night flies on the wind,So banish all my sorrows and their tears.
Shecometh like the sweet reprieving morn,Clad in her flowing robes of golden light;God’s angel of the day to clear the sightOf him condemned long years, and left forlorn,Deep in the dungeon of his loveless life,With every yearning for a love supreme—Love shining only in a cruel dream!And now his love appears to end the strife.
Oh, love, thou gentle messenger, bend down,Thy touch is soothing and thy smile is kind;Speak to this sorrowing heart and bid its fearsBe gone forevermore. When as thy crownAppears at dawn, and night flies on the wind,So banish all my sorrows and their tears.
Mylove and I a garden made—So early in the spring,When larks begin to sing—Frail violets a carpet laid,Of tender blues, for my sweet maid,When we were gardening.I did not see the garden grow—Fate turned me far astray,Ere summer’s happy rayThe garden kissed, and all the glowOf fragrant hours I did not know—My summer’s days were grey.I did not pick sweet blooms for her,To make a crown to graceHer head, and bonny face;I wandered in a world so bare,No flower of love perfumed the air,No blossoms could I trace.Some lovers sow, some lovers reap,And others never seeThe gardens that might be;Still, though I might not reap, I keep,In dreams of her, the mem’ry deepOf gardens made for me.
Mylove and I a garden made—So early in the spring,When larks begin to sing—Frail violets a carpet laid,Of tender blues, for my sweet maid,When we were gardening.I did not see the garden grow—Fate turned me far astray,Ere summer’s happy rayThe garden kissed, and all the glowOf fragrant hours I did not know—My summer’s days were grey.I did not pick sweet blooms for her,To make a crown to graceHer head, and bonny face;I wandered in a world so bare,No flower of love perfumed the air,No blossoms could I trace.Some lovers sow, some lovers reap,And others never seeThe gardens that might be;Still, though I might not reap, I keep,In dreams of her, the mem’ry deepOf gardens made for me.
Mylove and I a garden made—So early in the spring,When larks begin to sing—Frail violets a carpet laid,Of tender blues, for my sweet maid,When we were gardening.
I did not see the garden grow—Fate turned me far astray,Ere summer’s happy rayThe garden kissed, and all the glowOf fragrant hours I did not know—My summer’s days were grey.
I did not pick sweet blooms for her,To make a crown to graceHer head, and bonny face;I wandered in a world so bare,No flower of love perfumed the air,No blossoms could I trace.
Some lovers sow, some lovers reap,And others never seeThe gardens that might be;Still, though I might not reap, I keep,In dreams of her, the mem’ry deepOf gardens made for me.
Tellme truly, quaint repeater,When will she permit me greet her?Tell me when you sweetly chime—Name the day, and strike the time.On my heart you beat so gaily,Where her heart has beaten daily;She should think of us at night,When we two count hours in flight.Quaint repeater, friend diurnal(Like a truthful, faithful journal),Make the minutes pass away,Speed the night, and hasten day.Do you keep the hours correctly?Hands that move so circumspectlyOught, punctiliously, to showWhen a lad to lass should go.Quaint repeater, faster, faster,If you would avert disaster;Make the long days swiftly fly,Greeting hour is surely nigh.How can I exist in anguish,When for her I fret and languish?Quaint repeater, may I rest,Where you lay, upon her breast!
Tellme truly, quaint repeater,When will she permit me greet her?Tell me when you sweetly chime—Name the day, and strike the time.On my heart you beat so gaily,Where her heart has beaten daily;She should think of us at night,When we two count hours in flight.Quaint repeater, friend diurnal(Like a truthful, faithful journal),Make the minutes pass away,Speed the night, and hasten day.Do you keep the hours correctly?Hands that move so circumspectlyOught, punctiliously, to showWhen a lad to lass should go.Quaint repeater, faster, faster,If you would avert disaster;Make the long days swiftly fly,Greeting hour is surely nigh.How can I exist in anguish,When for her I fret and languish?Quaint repeater, may I rest,Where you lay, upon her breast!
Tellme truly, quaint repeater,When will she permit me greet her?Tell me when you sweetly chime—Name the day, and strike the time.
On my heart you beat so gaily,Where her heart has beaten daily;She should think of us at night,When we two count hours in flight.
Quaint repeater, friend diurnal(Like a truthful, faithful journal),Make the minutes pass away,Speed the night, and hasten day.
Do you keep the hours correctly?Hands that move so circumspectlyOught, punctiliously, to showWhen a lad to lass should go.
Quaint repeater, faster, faster,If you would avert disaster;Make the long days swiftly fly,Greeting hour is surely nigh.
How can I exist in anguish,When for her I fret and languish?Quaint repeater, may I rest,Where you lay, upon her breast!
A songlies buried in my soul,Its melody is silent there,The glory of it I would rollIn ecstasy, if thou would’st careTo hear its sweet enchanting strain,In some deep garden where the hillsWould echo its subdued refrain,Where fragrance every cloister fills,Where flowery carpets spread, for thee,Of velvet petals of the rose,Is where the song will flow from meInto the heart thy lover knows.My precious love, my one delight,Thou art more fair than that first dawnWhich made the new-born world so bright;When primal dews spread o’er the lawnAnd grass held jewels in its sheath,Where earth’s first flowers were kissed by day.More fair, art thou, than Ceres’ wreathFor tender maidens crowned with May.A song for thee, and thee alone,No other ear shall know its theme;My eastern pearl of rarest tone,It is the music of a dream;A dream of gushing, surging loveFrom never-saving, endless springs,Down deep, as heaven is high above;Its course, as wide as Cosmos flingsThe starry gems which light the skies,When nightingales pour out their song;As soft as joy in lover’s eyes,In climes, where nights of love are long.
A songlies buried in my soul,Its melody is silent there,The glory of it I would rollIn ecstasy, if thou would’st careTo hear its sweet enchanting strain,In some deep garden where the hillsWould echo its subdued refrain,Where fragrance every cloister fills,Where flowery carpets spread, for thee,Of velvet petals of the rose,Is where the song will flow from meInto the heart thy lover knows.My precious love, my one delight,Thou art more fair than that first dawnWhich made the new-born world so bright;When primal dews spread o’er the lawnAnd grass held jewels in its sheath,Where earth’s first flowers were kissed by day.More fair, art thou, than Ceres’ wreathFor tender maidens crowned with May.A song for thee, and thee alone,No other ear shall know its theme;My eastern pearl of rarest tone,It is the music of a dream;A dream of gushing, surging loveFrom never-saving, endless springs,Down deep, as heaven is high above;Its course, as wide as Cosmos flingsThe starry gems which light the skies,When nightingales pour out their song;As soft as joy in lover’s eyes,In climes, where nights of love are long.
A songlies buried in my soul,Its melody is silent there,The glory of it I would rollIn ecstasy, if thou would’st careTo hear its sweet enchanting strain,In some deep garden where the hillsWould echo its subdued refrain,Where fragrance every cloister fills,Where flowery carpets spread, for thee,Of velvet petals of the rose,Is where the song will flow from meInto the heart thy lover knows.My precious love, my one delight,Thou art more fair than that first dawnWhich made the new-born world so bright;When primal dews spread o’er the lawnAnd grass held jewels in its sheath,Where earth’s first flowers were kissed by day.More fair, art thou, than Ceres’ wreathFor tender maidens crowned with May.A song for thee, and thee alone,No other ear shall know its theme;My eastern pearl of rarest tone,It is the music of a dream;A dream of gushing, surging loveFrom never-saving, endless springs,Down deep, as heaven is high above;Its course, as wide as Cosmos flingsThe starry gems which light the skies,When nightingales pour out their song;As soft as joy in lover’s eyes,In climes, where nights of love are long.
Inall this world you are to meA flower, serene, alone;A sight kind heaven lets me seeWhen I am deep in misery,And hope of joy near flown.You, like a bloom when woods are grey,Arresting soul and mind,With beauty bidding me to stay,And worship you with prayer and lay,And ease for sorrow find.Oh, flower of perfect loveliness,Oh, bloom of spring’s fair day,What gentle joys do you impressUpon my soul, with happinessWhich sweeps the clouds away!
Inall this world you are to meA flower, serene, alone;A sight kind heaven lets me seeWhen I am deep in misery,And hope of joy near flown.You, like a bloom when woods are grey,Arresting soul and mind,With beauty bidding me to stay,And worship you with prayer and lay,And ease for sorrow find.Oh, flower of perfect loveliness,Oh, bloom of spring’s fair day,What gentle joys do you impressUpon my soul, with happinessWhich sweeps the clouds away!
Inall this world you are to meA flower, serene, alone;A sight kind heaven lets me seeWhen I am deep in misery,And hope of joy near flown.
You, like a bloom when woods are grey,Arresting soul and mind,With beauty bidding me to stay,And worship you with prayer and lay,And ease for sorrow find.
Oh, flower of perfect loveliness,Oh, bloom of spring’s fair day,What gentle joys do you impressUpon my soul, with happinessWhich sweeps the clouds away!
Whatwould you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you in absence sad,Longed for a moment’s joy—My voice to make you glad—Would you the time employIn going to your lad?And whisper: “Mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—we two—You live for me, and I for you.”What would you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you were far away,And hungered for a word,Just one—to brighten day;Some message for a birdTo carry, would you say?“My lover, mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—just two—You live for me, and I for you.”
Whatwould you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you in absence sad,Longed for a moment’s joy—My voice to make you glad—Would you the time employIn going to your lad?And whisper: “Mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—we two—You live for me, and I for you.”What would you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you were far away,And hungered for a word,Just one—to brighten day;Some message for a birdTo carry, would you say?“My lover, mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—just two—You live for me, and I for you.”
Whatwould you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you in absence sad,Longed for a moment’s joy—My voice to make you glad—Would you the time employIn going to your lad?And whisper: “Mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—we two—You live for me, and I for you.”
What would you do?If you loved me,As I love you.If you were far away,And hungered for a word,Just one—to brighten day;Some message for a birdTo carry, would you say?“My lover, mine alone,Yes, I am thine, my own;In all this busy world—just two—You live for me, and I for you.”
Itis the heart within the soul of herThat shines, and sets her lily face aglow.Turning to rosy blush the velvet snow,To make the pearly morn look far less fair!It is her soul’s sweet heart that makes her eyesThe envied of the stars, when glances brightMount up and gleam from her kind orbs at night,And spread celestial fire across the skies!No heart of flesh and blood could glorifyA form divine, and make so sweet a faceAs that which smiles in pity from above—Her spirit ’tis, which beats mysteriously,And gives her every action heaven’s grace,And wins my human heart to God-like love!
Itis the heart within the soul of herThat shines, and sets her lily face aglow.Turning to rosy blush the velvet snow,To make the pearly morn look far less fair!It is her soul’s sweet heart that makes her eyesThe envied of the stars, when glances brightMount up and gleam from her kind orbs at night,And spread celestial fire across the skies!No heart of flesh and blood could glorifyA form divine, and make so sweet a faceAs that which smiles in pity from above—Her spirit ’tis, which beats mysteriously,And gives her every action heaven’s grace,And wins my human heart to God-like love!
Itis the heart within the soul of herThat shines, and sets her lily face aglow.Turning to rosy blush the velvet snow,To make the pearly morn look far less fair!It is her soul’s sweet heart that makes her eyesThe envied of the stars, when glances brightMount up and gleam from her kind orbs at night,And spread celestial fire across the skies!
No heart of flesh and blood could glorifyA form divine, and make so sweet a faceAs that which smiles in pity from above—Her spirit ’tis, which beats mysteriously,And gives her every action heaven’s grace,And wins my human heart to God-like love!
I loveyou so!What sacrifice is meetThat I should make, my sweet,That I might showMy love in some rich way,To brighten all your day?To keep from strifeOur years of love, dear wife?I love you so!My life is naught to me—Of use to none but thee—Oh, that you know!Yet would its end once bringYou joy, how could I clingTo it, and bearThe thought it brought you care?I love you so!There is no death I fearTo save you pain, my dear.For death I oweTo love, for your sweet grace!Loved vision of your faceRest in my eyes,When death takes my last sighs.I love you so!My own, my precious mate,I fear not any fate—No pain, no woe—So long as I may dieBeneath the smiling sky.Your eyes for meMake heaven’s canopy!
I loveyou so!What sacrifice is meetThat I should make, my sweet,That I might showMy love in some rich way,To brighten all your day?To keep from strifeOur years of love, dear wife?I love you so!My life is naught to me—Of use to none but thee—Oh, that you know!Yet would its end once bringYou joy, how could I clingTo it, and bearThe thought it brought you care?I love you so!There is no death I fearTo save you pain, my dear.For death I oweTo love, for your sweet grace!Loved vision of your faceRest in my eyes,When death takes my last sighs.I love you so!My own, my precious mate,I fear not any fate—No pain, no woe—So long as I may dieBeneath the smiling sky.Your eyes for meMake heaven’s canopy!
I loveyou so!What sacrifice is meetThat I should make, my sweet,That I might showMy love in some rich way,To brighten all your day?To keep from strifeOur years of love, dear wife?
I love you so!My life is naught to me—Of use to none but thee—Oh, that you know!Yet would its end once bringYou joy, how could I clingTo it, and bearThe thought it brought you care?
I love you so!There is no death I fearTo save you pain, my dear.For death I oweTo love, for your sweet grace!Loved vision of your faceRest in my eyes,When death takes my last sighs.
I love you so!My own, my precious mate,I fear not any fate—No pain, no woe—So long as I may dieBeneath the smiling sky.Your eyes for meMake heaven’s canopy!
Shecame to me, a messenger of spring,Borne on the wings of ecstasy, and joyFlowed o’er me like a sunburst’s splendid ray.My silent soul was moved again to sing,My saddened mind was purged of its alloy—She led me up from cheerless night to day.She came, a vision of delights I dreamedWhen all the world of wonder moved my heart;She brought fair prospects to my fading sight,And proved that life was dearer than it seemed;She led me back to rosy realms of art—She, sweet embodiment of art’s delight!She came, and changed the purpose of the years;With grace she gave long days of peace to me.Her gift—the jewel of her love she gave,A glory and a passion without peers;As full of splendour as the orient sea,Where pearls of heaven rest beneath the wave.She came, and shed her gentle lovelinessUpon me, trembling ’neath her spell sublime,And chose me for her loving mate; to knowHer worth, and find in her love’s happiness;She came, and made a wondrous dream divine,Her beauty and her rapture all aglow.Blest vision of the dream youth sought in vain;Sweet chalice, where commingled rest all aims;Enchanting mystery of love’s last quest,What can I offer thee that thou would’st deignCommensurate (all that the world acclaimsMost precious things) with those rich gifts—the best—The rarest love, thou didst bestow on me?There’s naught in all the stores of earth to findTo give in just return—no star above!Save what thou’st made—my own deep love for thee—A heart and soul renewed, a richer mind—My life’s devotion and a deathless love!
Shecame to me, a messenger of spring,Borne on the wings of ecstasy, and joyFlowed o’er me like a sunburst’s splendid ray.My silent soul was moved again to sing,My saddened mind was purged of its alloy—She led me up from cheerless night to day.She came, a vision of delights I dreamedWhen all the world of wonder moved my heart;She brought fair prospects to my fading sight,And proved that life was dearer than it seemed;She led me back to rosy realms of art—She, sweet embodiment of art’s delight!She came, and changed the purpose of the years;With grace she gave long days of peace to me.Her gift—the jewel of her love she gave,A glory and a passion without peers;As full of splendour as the orient sea,Where pearls of heaven rest beneath the wave.She came, and shed her gentle lovelinessUpon me, trembling ’neath her spell sublime,And chose me for her loving mate; to knowHer worth, and find in her love’s happiness;She came, and made a wondrous dream divine,Her beauty and her rapture all aglow.Blest vision of the dream youth sought in vain;Sweet chalice, where commingled rest all aims;Enchanting mystery of love’s last quest,What can I offer thee that thou would’st deignCommensurate (all that the world acclaimsMost precious things) with those rich gifts—the best—The rarest love, thou didst bestow on me?There’s naught in all the stores of earth to findTo give in just return—no star above!Save what thou’st made—my own deep love for thee—A heart and soul renewed, a richer mind—My life’s devotion and a deathless love!
Shecame to me, a messenger of spring,Borne on the wings of ecstasy, and joyFlowed o’er me like a sunburst’s splendid ray.My silent soul was moved again to sing,My saddened mind was purged of its alloy—She led me up from cheerless night to day.
She came, a vision of delights I dreamedWhen all the world of wonder moved my heart;She brought fair prospects to my fading sight,And proved that life was dearer than it seemed;She led me back to rosy realms of art—She, sweet embodiment of art’s delight!
She came, and changed the purpose of the years;With grace she gave long days of peace to me.Her gift—the jewel of her love she gave,A glory and a passion without peers;As full of splendour as the orient sea,Where pearls of heaven rest beneath the wave.
She came, and shed her gentle lovelinessUpon me, trembling ’neath her spell sublime,And chose me for her loving mate; to knowHer worth, and find in her love’s happiness;She came, and made a wondrous dream divine,Her beauty and her rapture all aglow.
Blest vision of the dream youth sought in vain;Sweet chalice, where commingled rest all aims;Enchanting mystery of love’s last quest,What can I offer thee that thou would’st deignCommensurate (all that the world acclaimsMost precious things) with those rich gifts—the best—
The rarest love, thou didst bestow on me?There’s naught in all the stores of earth to findTo give in just return—no star above!Save what thou’st made—my own deep love for thee—A heart and soul renewed, a richer mind—My life’s devotion and a deathless love!
Whatshall I do for thee, my love?What glory can I win?What aim is there too high for me?What strife to conquer in?To thee, my love, whate’er befall,I give my life, my soul, my all.No joy, no pleasure shall I seek,In which you have no share;All pain and sorrow I shall keepFrom you, and I shall careFor every hour in which you live,As ’twere the last that God would give.Your worshiper receive with joy.My happy lips now seal,So all my thought and words may beFor thee. Then I shall kneel,And vow ’fore heaven my love is true,And consecrate its life to you.
Whatshall I do for thee, my love?What glory can I win?What aim is there too high for me?What strife to conquer in?To thee, my love, whate’er befall,I give my life, my soul, my all.No joy, no pleasure shall I seek,In which you have no share;All pain and sorrow I shall keepFrom you, and I shall careFor every hour in which you live,As ’twere the last that God would give.Your worshiper receive with joy.My happy lips now seal,So all my thought and words may beFor thee. Then I shall kneel,And vow ’fore heaven my love is true,And consecrate its life to you.
Whatshall I do for thee, my love?What glory can I win?What aim is there too high for me?What strife to conquer in?To thee, my love, whate’er befall,I give my life, my soul, my all.
No joy, no pleasure shall I seek,In which you have no share;All pain and sorrow I shall keepFrom you, and I shall careFor every hour in which you live,As ’twere the last that God would give.
Your worshiper receive with joy.My happy lips now seal,So all my thought and words may beFor thee. Then I shall kneel,And vow ’fore heaven my love is true,And consecrate its life to you.
THE END