SWEETER than are the flowers of spring, that bloom
In all their fragrance underneath the skies;
Fairer than all those glories that arise
From earth, to give a delicate perfume
Unto the airs, that by their birth assume
New life and joyousness; I would surmise
To be thy charms, which frequently surprise
My soul with smiles that banish every gloom.
I would that I, one half as easily,
Might pluck thee from thy temporary bed
Of earthly pleasure, and possess the flower
Of thy young life, to keep it worthily
Within the garden of my heart, and wed
Thy true love to my own far greater power!
XXX
CONSIGN me not, while honoring thy love,
To the sad realm of lovers who have lost
The prize, that oft to them their life hath cost;
Nor send me from th’ Olympian height above
This poor, imperfect life wherein we move,
Deep down into the nether world. At most,
Have pity on a lover that thou dost
Not have the heart to readily reprove.
My own, my loved one, oh, receive from Heaven
That which I pray for nightly, ere I lay
My suffering soul to rest! I would that I
Had power to give what Nature hath not given
To thy dear self, and that this looked-for day
Might yet be borne upon thee, by and by!
XXXI
WAS it with joy or with time’s false relief,
That I perceived the presence of thy being,
Clothed all in charm, once more alone, and seeing,
Beheld in thee both happiness and grief?
For surely, Cupid, thou art but a thief,
To steal from man his heart, and, with it fleeing,
Reduce him to love’s penury, agreeing
The while to soon replace his lost belief.
Loved one, thou bringest with thee pleasant hours,
That, dying all too soon, leave me in pain
For many a day and weary week betimes;
Refusing strangely love’s perpetual flowers;
Without the which my love for thee seems vain,
Save for th’ alleviation of my rhymes.
XXXII
DOST thou not feel some longing in thy breast
For an affection that on earth must play
The part of Heaven’s imitation, yea,
The power on which true love must surely rest?
How willingly would I thy spirit wrest
From its cold prison house, and wake to-day
Some sentiment in thee, that should not say
My love was but a visionary quest!
What power can make thee understand, that I
Do feel for thee all Heaven and Hell combined
In one magnificent emotion here,
And that thou mightest profit well thereby,
Couldst thou but recognize the love confined
Within thy heart, and cause it to appear?
XXXIII
EVEN could to-day have brought thee unto me
But for one fleeting hour, I might rest
In the enchantment of thy bliss, and best
Enjoy this marking of the years that see
A quest of love, that from my birth must be
The strongest passion stirred within my breast.
Still, though my soul this prayer to thee addrest;
Thou wouldst not to so slight a gift agree.
And yet, how little honor, fame, compare,
In satisfaction to this longing heart,
With one delicious moment in thine arms!
Tormenting vision of the holy air
Of heaven, from which on earth we soon do part;
While nothing the uneasy spirit calms!