Our love is love that lives for aye
Enchained in fetters strong and fair,
So evermore, by night and day,
That we our prisoned home may share,
I hide her in my heart, my May,
And keep my darling captive there.
C. H. Waring.
LOVE.
Looks that love not are silver-cold—
Gold the glory of love-sweet eyes!
Hearts are wide as the boundless skies
Full of loves—like the stars—untold!
Love by love should be bought and sold.
Other payments are shams and lies!
Looks that love not are silver-cold—
Gold the glory of love-sweet eyes!
Many loves will a great heart hold—
Foolish often, but often wise;
Some of silver, but one of gold,—
Life's great treasure, and crowning prize.
Looks that love not are silver-cold—
Gold the glory of love-sweet eyes—
C. H. Waring.
RONDEL.
The larch has donned its rosy plumes,
And hastes its emerald beads to string:
The warblers now are on the wing.
Across the pathless ocean-glooms,
Through tender grass and violet blooms,
I move along and gaily sing.
The larch has donned its rosy plumes,
And hastes its emerald beads to string.