Beneath this beauty when my spirit swayeth
And with the praise of it my soul is stirred,
Love on my lips a wary finger layeth
And bindeth in my heart the eager word!
My heart, that for love's sake these long years holdeth
One dear desire to win all ways of speech,
Whose secret, love himself, I dreamed, unfoldeth—
O, is it silence, Love, that thou wouldst teach?
I have desired to suffer thy sweet burning
And prayed thy fiercest blow should on me fall;
I have grown scarred and wise in bitter learning,
But not to love I never learned at all.

At eve on Monday, on a round
I heard a sound that pleased me well,
The viol's note did smoothly float,
With a babel wrought above its swell;
I fell to ponder with the wonder,
My thoughts meandered absently,
Clear did I show that far I'd go,
As my own fancy prompted me.

I went along to join the throng,
Where there was song and drink and dance,
Maidens young and bachelors
All orderly in excellence.
The maidens scanned I, one by one
With slow gaze wandering far and nigh,
My heart was ta'en, as were my e'en,

I rather love a youth and childish rime,
Than thee whose verse and head are wise through time.

Three times a day my prayer is,
To gaze my fill on Thoralis.
And three times thrice I daily pray
Not to offend that sacred may.
But all the year my suit must be
That I may please, and she love me.

In my infinity of loss
I seek to find the gain,—
The tender glance, the word of love,
The kiss divine—in vain!
No priceless gem of memory,
But ah! the pain, the pain!

All the whole world is living without war,
And yet I cannot find out any peace.
O God! that this should be!
O God! what does the earth sustain me for?
My life seems made for other lives' ill-ease:
All men look strange to me;
Nor are the wood-flowers now
As once, when up above
The happy birds in love
Made such sweet verses, going from bough to bough.

And if I come where other gentleman
Bear arms, or say of love some joyful thing—
Then is my grief most sore,
And all my soul turns round upon me then:

Like a lilac in the spring
Is my love, my lady-love;
Purple-white, the lilacs fling
Scented blossoms from above:

So my love, my lady-love,
Throws soft glances on my heart;
Ah, my dainty lady-love,
Every glances is Cupid's dart.

Like a pansy in the spring
Is my love, my lady-love;
For her velvet eyes oft bring
Golden fancies from above:
Ah, my heart is pansy-bound
By those eyes so tender-true;
Balmy heartsease have I found,
Dainty lady-love, in you.

Like the changeful month of spring
Is my love, my lady-love;

How hotly men will wrangle—
One furious with another!
See how the strong hands mangle
Some poor down-trodden brother.
Is this the lofty nature?
Is this the lordly mind?
Can no poor human creature
Love and be kind?

But if such strife be common,
There still are nobler spirits
To rescue and illumine,
The mould that man inherits.
Such, with the lamp of goodness,
A tranquil pathway find,
Such, in the raging rudeness,
Are gentle and kind.

Strive boldly, human brother—
Not with your fellow-creature
But in self-war—to smother

Thou art the very marrow of my soul,
Thou art the very substance of my thought.
Absent, I still am conscious of the whole,
Glad impulse that my life from thee has caught.
Core of my core and center of my brain,
Pulse of my pulse and essence of my pain,
I sleep to meet thee in a world apart,
Thy love a moonlight blossom on my heart.
Thou art the very beating of my blood,
Thou art the wings of every soaring aim,
And all the tides of life are at the flood,
Since loving came.

Dearest, thou art so beautifully nigh!

Love me brought
And love me wrought,
Man, to be thy fere;
Love me fed,
And love me led,
And love me letteth here.

Love me slew,
And love me drew
And love me laid on bier;
Love is my peace,
For love I chese
Man to buyen dear.

Ne dread thee nought,
I have thee sought
Both by day and night,
To haven thee;
Well is to me,
I have thee won in fight.