FAST-ANCHOR'D, eternal, O love! O woman I love!
O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!
--Then separate, as disembodied, or another born,
Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation;
I ascend--I float in the regions of your love, O man,
O sharer of my roving life.
Love and thy vain employs, away
From this too oft deluded breast!
No longer will I court thy stay,
To be my bosom's teazing guest.
Thou treacherous medicine, reckoned pure,
Thou quackery of the harassed heart,
That kills what it pretends to cure,
Life's mountebank thou art.
With nostrums vain of boasted powers,
That, ta'en, a worse disorder leave;
An asp hid in a group of flowers,
That bites and stings when few perceive;
Thou mock-truce to the troubled mind,
Leading it more in sorrow's way,
Love grasps my heart in a net
Like the strong roots of a flower;
So surely his root is set
In my spirit, to hold me with power.
Yet to--night, O forgive me, Dear!
I am troubled, my heart trembles.
There flutters within me a fear
That Love in vain dissembles.
O is it that even our trust,
So strongly planted,
How steadfast soever, must
By its own fear be haunted?
As the heart must beat in the breast
If the pulse to its life be true,
Love must tremble and throb in his nest
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.
But Money gives me pleasure all the time.
Hellish beast hunts the night
Stealing loved ones from my sight
In the darkness all is lost
Was my freedom worth the cost?
Locked in a prison of fear,
Taunting words only I can hear
He’s scratching at the walls,
“Let me in, ” his mocking voice calls
Bound by fear, blinded by hate,
I deny this is my fate
Wishing it would go away
Yet not knowing what to say
In the coming morn, there will be no trace
Of what went on in this horrid place
No scattered clothes, few drops of blood
Father of love, to thee I bend
My heart, and lift mine eyes;
O let my pray'r and praise ascend
As odours to the skies.
Thy pard'ning voice I come to hear,
To know thee as thou art:
Thy ministers can reach the ear,
But thou must touch the heart.
O stamp me in thy heav'nly mould,
And grant thy word appl'd
May bring forth fruit an hundred fold
And speak me justify'd.
Father of light, and life, and love!
Thyself to us reveal;
As saints below, and saints above,
Thy sacred presence feel.
Not with the eye of mortal sense
By angels round the throne,
Or happy souls departed hence,
Art Thou in glory known.
No sun by day, no moon by night
For this our spirits need;
Who walk by faith, and not by sight,
They feel Thee nigh indeed.
Light in thy light the blind may see,
No more by sin estranged;
Light in the Lord, so let us be
Into thine image changed.
Poor Hal caught his death standing under a spout
Expecting till midnight when Nan would come out;
But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame,
And cursed was the weather that quench'd the man's flame.
Whoe'er thou art that reads these moral lines,
Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.
Round me now, beneath the weeping willow,
Night's refreshing breezes blow;
Anguish drove me from a sleepless pillow
Hours and hours ago.
You, and you alone, may know my sorrow--
You, my confidante of yore--
You, my loved one, when I must, tomorrow
Lose forever more!
Farewell, my loved one!
Yet once more
Let me press you to my heart;
Once, our Fate, with cruel fingers,
Tears our souls apart.
Though you may forget it, I remember--
Yes! for sweet it was to know--
