"Love is a many splendid thing."
that's what someone said,
but don't ask me who.

Love is different things
for different people,

but for me,
love is about
being there
for someone special,
and about them
being there for me too.

I love my Mum & Dad,
and yes, my brother too,
and all his family,
and all my other relatives,

all my close friends,
and the other ones too,
who I only see now and then,

I love Annie on 2XX,
who I've never even met,
who just talks away
to me on the radio,
happy as can be,

Love is:
walking through the park
holding hands,
kissing,
cuddling,
hugging,
great sex.

No that's just a fantasy.
But it's a great fantasy
of mine,
and one that doesn't
impose any stereotypes on anyone.

So I'll hang onto it.

We would like to suggest that you try reading this poem backwards,
line by line.

Here I sit,
on my bus,
seated behind
a vision divine.

She is young
and beautiful.
But mostly she is
a nubile,
young thing.

She looks
a little tired,
but young at heart.

She sneezes.
Will I say
" Bless you" ?
Perhaps not.

Oh, I pine for
the days when
she may have been mine.

She is truly
a vision of
loveliness, divine.

Love died here
Long ago; -
O'er his bier,
Lying low,
Poppies throw;
Shed no tear;
Year by year,
Roses blow!

Year by year,
Adon--dear
To Love's Queen -
Does not die!
Wakes when green
May is nigh!

Angel-love,
Fairy-love,
Wave-love,
Which will you choose?
Angel-love . . . golden-yellow and far white . . .
Fairy-love . . . golden yellow and green . . .
Wave-love . . . scarlet and azure blue . . .
Which will you choose?

I will keep them in a box
Locked with a twisted key.
I will give them to people who need love,
I will let them choose.
Fairy-love blows away like leaves.
Angels I know little about.
For myself I choose wave-love
Because of the wind and the sea and my heart.

I

Gorgeous Blue Mountain

I see a great mountain
Stand among clouds;
You would never know
Where it ended. . . .
Oh, gorgeous blue mountain of my heart
And of my love for you!




II

Sea-Gull

From a yellow strip of sand
I watch a gull go by.
He is bright-eyed
To see the world of waves.
All his dream is of the sea.
All his love is for his mate.

The poplars bow forward and back;
They are like a fan waving very softly.
They tremble,
For they love the wind in their feathery branches.
They love to look down at the shallows,
At the mermaids
On the sandy shore;
They love to look into morning's face
Cool in the water.

If that thy hand with heart-will sought,
To work with Christ-love underlying,
But ere thou hadst accomplished aught
Time passed thee by while vainly trying,
The wasted hour, the vain endeavor,
Will wait thee in the far forever.

If thou hadst toiled from dawn till eve,
But felt no thrill of joy in giving
No heart made glad, no want relieved,
Lived but for selfish love of living,
Though idle hours went by thee never,
The hours are lost to thee forever.


* * * * *

They praised the baby's dimpled hands,
His brow so broad and fair,
They kiss the dainty rose-bud mouth,
Caress the sunny hair.
His lisping words, his tottling steps,
His smiles they praise and prize,
They love him for his cunning ways,
I love him for his eyes.

The wealth of golden tinted curls
Old Time will streak with snow;
The rose-bud mouth so dainty curved
To sterner lines will grow.
The fleeting years will mark with change
Each feature now they prize,
Save only the sweet eyes I love--
I love him for his eyes.

He faced his canvas (as a seer whose ken
Pierces the crust of this existence through)
And smiled beyond on that his genius knew
Ere mated with his being. Conscious then
Of his high theme alone, he smiled again
Straight back upon himself in many a hue
And tint, and light and shade, which slowly grew
Enfeatured of a fair girl's face, as when
First time she smiles for love's sake with no fear.
So wrought he, witless that behind him leant
A woman, with old features, dim and sear,
And glamoured eyes that felt the brimming tear,