Swear to me, said my love, that you are mine:
Bring yourself to me outside my door and wait:
My lovers have come in numbers but they go,
I call for love that asks for nothing and gives all.
I am tired of the debits and credits of love,
I am tired of the vows of lovers,
I leave you as free as I ask to be myself.
Swear to me, said my love, that love is not a bond:
Love's body is for love's body, that is all,
Love's soul is for love's soul, that is all.
I give all for all, I bargain for nothing less,
And as much as you confer just so much you take away.

I have found that love comes forth from customs issuing a challenge,
And love's challenge turns love loose upon you in vehement plenty,
And you go to your root and find love there before you,
And you go to your finished boughs and you find love there already arrived,
And you follow love out of all law and habit,
And you follow love out of all luxury and laxity,
And you go where love is free and pure, and you track love to the scene of its newday consummations
Once you thought love was only safe with the police at its door:

At Last!
The night is at an end,
The dawn comes softly up,
Clear as its own clear dew;
And weeping has gone out,
To let in only songs
And everlasting joy;
At last!—Amen!

At last!
The Prince of Life has come,
The Church is glorified,
The sleepers have awoke,
The living have been changed;
Death has at last been slain,
And the grave spoiled for ever!
At last!—Amen!

At last!
The curse is swept away,
The serpent-trail effaced;
The desert smiles with green,
And blossoms like the rose.

Jerusalem!
Thy King at length has come.
Lift up thy voice in song;
No more be dumb.
Happy Jerusalem!
Thy widowhood is done;
Thy mourning days are past,
Thy joy begun!

Zion, rejoice!
Thy glory now returns;
Thy God has come, no more
His anger burns.
City of cities thou!
What beauty shall be thine
Joy of the blessed earth,
Arise and shine!

Peace, Salem, peace
Be now within thy gates;
To thee earth crowds; on thee
Its grandeur waits.
Thou holy Mount of God!
From thee once more ascends

My house with criss-cross beams is remote from the world,
Into the distance I gaze, out over heights and abysses.
Far-away mountain peaks are framed by my windows,
All round my courtyard, tall trees bow their heads
As the sun comes out, flocks of birds all scatter,
As the mountains darken, lonely apes start howling.
When I have drunk some wine by the side of the pool,
I play my lute again as the breeze starts blowing.
For no one else but you, of measureless virtue,
Would I drive on my heart to weariness
You have shown such fond affection for me,

The merchant's boat is piled high with goods;
in the morning, south of the Yangtze,
in the evening, back up north.
His livelihood depends upon the wind and the waves,
his name has never been entered in the tax-collector's books.
At the prow of his boat, a shaman sings an invocation to the gods,
lifts a cup of wine, bows twice, and pours a libation to the waves.
“We promise to burn innumerable packets of magic paper money
if only our wealth continues to increase!
May the god desist, and the wind die down,
and our entire family enjoy unlimited blessings!”

I love you—Titan lover,
My own storm-days' Titan.
Greater than the son of Zeus,
I know who I would choose.

Titan—my splendid rebel—
The old Prometheus
Wanes like a ghost before your power—
His pangs were joys to yours.

Pallid days arid and wan
Tied your soul fast.
Babel cities' smoky tops
Pressed upon your growth

Weary gyves. What were you,
But a word in the brain's ways,
Or the sleep of Circe's swine?
One gyve holds you yet.

It held you hiddenly on the Somme
Tied from my heart at home.
O must it loosen now? I wish

Colors that from darkness burn,
That my childhood saw,
They will yet to me return,
In brief death's awe.

I shall slip into them, deep,
As I used to do,
With eyelids closer than in sleep,
And colors coming through.

They will wall my transient room
Brighter than their names,
Glowing out of velvet gloom,
Like safe, cool flames.

Earth to me will call in vain,—
On those colors whirled,
I shall find my way again
To a remembered world.

Once more the mighty angel, who unfolds
Time's ample page to our astonish'd view,
Has turn'd unseen, with quick and silent hand,
Another leaf of that eventful book
Where wrapp'd in shades of dim obscurity,
Remains the fate of empires and of kings.
O thou dark volume of futurity,
Whose tenfold seal no mortal hand can break,
What scenes of wonder yet to be reveal'd
Do thy unopen'd pages still contain.
E'er since my heart could feel for human kind,
I've heard of nought but wars and desolation,
Of cities given to the devouring flames;

When Spring in sunny woodland lay,
And gilded buds were sparely set
On oak tree and the thorny may,
I gave my love a violet.
“O Love,” she said, and kissed my mouth
With one light, tender maiden kiss,
“There are no rich blooms in the south
So fair to me as this!”

When Summer reared her haughty crest,
We paused beneath the ruddy stars;
I placed a rose upon her breast,
Plucked from the modest casement bars.
“O Love,” she said, and kissed my mouth—
Heart, heart, rememb'rest thou the bliss?—
“In east or west, in north or south,