Dear love, 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 be
Wrapped close to my desiring breast,
So at the last I shall be blest
With transports of thy laughter. Laugh
In my arms ecstatic glee,
And cheer my soul, and I shall quaff
Thy fragrant breath and smile at thee.
Dear heart of joy, let my last hour
Know 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 arms
Laugh me away to Death in bliss.
ALCHEMY
I was ill, and with a touch
She reclaimed my waning strength.
Bless her, God, and give her much
Joy in love, and days of length.
What is tragic
Pain to me?
Such her magic—
Alchemy.
She smiled on me
When I was ill
And, lo!
From pain set free
I go
And drink my fill
At her beauty’s fountain flowing!
Oh, the bliss of breathing
Fragrance from her graces blowing;
Grace like colour seething,
From a thousand flowers,
Scenting June’s rich bowers.
I am well, and she has made
Every sorrow
Bring a morrow
Happier than today.
Every sadness is repaid
With rejoicing;
Like a voicing
Woodland in the month of May.
Merry is her soul,
And witty, too, her nimble mind—
Like a golden bowl
Of 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!
SURRENDER
Take every 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 mind
Those fearful, hindering alarms.
Take, to the last deep drop,
Nor think when you would stop,
My strength’s rich wine.
Love made divine
The rapturous blood of me for you.
Red, full and bright,
Like Vallambrosa’s vineyard dew
On autumn’s night.
My mind explore, its treasures take,
So long as joy is there
To find, and leave it bare
Of every thought that might awake
New transports in your soul—
Then break the empty bowl,
So no one else may use
The 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 smite
With withering scorn,
And leave it shorn
Of 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 assert
Your image like a faithful stream,
Reflecting every feature of your form,
Showing the slightest, quickest gleam
From 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 find
In thought, in blood, in flesh, to serve thee well
In giving heaven—then, thou, consign to hell
Whate’er is left of me.
E’en then my joy shall be—
That it was wrecked by thee.
WHAT IS DAY WITHOUT THE SUN?
What is 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 would
Make 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!