Thy charms are all decaying, love,
The smile that once was playing, love,
So pure and bright,
It seemed but light
From day's clear fountain straying, love,—

That smile away is stealing, love,
Thy lip no more revealing, love,
The sweets of soul,
That Cupid stole
To fill his cup of feeling, love.

That lip will shed its sweetness, love,
Thy form will lose its fleetness, love,
Arrayed no more,
As when it wore
The snowy veil of neatness, love.

O, time is stealing by us, love,
And age is drawing nigh us, love;
So let me sip

If 't please you see how Love's might overcame,
How He attacked and how He conquered me,
How my heart burns and freezes for His glee,
How He doth make His Honor of my Shame;

If't please you see my youth running to claim
What brings it nought but pain and contumely,
Then come and read, and know the agony
Of which my Goddess and my God make game.

Then you shall know that Love is reasonless,
A sweet deceit, a dear imprisonment,
An empty hope that feeds us with the wind.

Then you shall know how great man's foolishness

Love is a Leven, and a loving kisse
The Leven of a loving sweet-heart is.

See'est thou a Skylark whose glistening winglets ascending
Quiver like pulses beneath the melodious dawn?
Deep in the heart-yearning distance of heaven it flutters—
Wisdom and beauty and love are the treasures it brings down at eve.

Thank God Who spared me what I feared!
Once more I gird myself to run.
Thy promise stands, Thou Faithful One.
Horror of darkness disappeared
At length; once more I see the sun,

And dare to wait in hope for Spring,
To face and bear the Winter's cold:
The dead cocoon shall yet unfold
And give to light the living wing;
There's hidden sap beneath the mould.

My God, how could my courage flag
So long as Thou art still the same?
For what were labour, failure, shame,
Whilst Thy sure promise doth not lag

I've said it before,
And they'll say it again,
My love's lips the sweetest
You ever have seen.

You'd perhaps like to know,
Helydora's her name;
She's a fairy who puts
E'en the fairies to shame.

Why am I wakeful thinking of you in the night,
You whom I no longer love,
You who love me no more?
Yet if you would turn the handle of my door
And stand before me white,
Like a young dove,
For just a little while
I think I would look up and smile.

What are these thoughts of you that strangle me
In this silent midnight hour?
Memories, dreams that cloud my eyes
And with strange torture rise,
Mocking my misery.
Somehow I wonder if the flower
Of old-time joy would burst to flame
If, dear, you came.

Full of wickedness, I—of many a smutch'd deed reminiscent—of worse deeds capable,
Yet I look composedly upon nature, drink day and night the joys of life, and await death with perfect equanimity,
Because of my tender and boundless love for him I love and because of his boundless love for me.

Yes, thought the sullen east-wind storm,
And sunless skies the Spring deform,
The lovely Nina's graceful hand
Can, like a fairy's lily wand,
Bid every vernal sweet appear,
And bloom with early fragrance here!
Yes here, even here, they breathe perfume,
Though walls of melancholy gloom,
With northern aspect frowning rude,
Each brighter beam of Heaven exclude
Behold! at Nina's soft command,
The flowers their velvet leaves expand,
And sweet, and blue like her own eye,
(That loves in languid peace to lie,
And bending beautiful in shade,

Haste hither, my love, the river
Is tinged with the pale moonlight,
The leaves of the dark trees quiver,
And throb in the parting night.
Why linger, my love, why linger?
Swift fly the hours away,
And soon will Aurora's finger
Point to the dawning day.

The Spirit of Morn doth hover
Above the horizon dark,
'T is time that both Maid and Lover
Were safe in their waiting bark;
Then hasten to meet me, dearest,
Why does my true-love stay?
Oh! haste, and your loved-one nearest,
We'll leave ere the dawn of day.