Love they alone the joyful heart
The night wind & the leaf? —
That when we are sick with an evil smart
They whisper nought but grief.

I thought in my young days to find
Relief for breast & brow:
In the mere breathing of the wind,
And swaying of the bough.

But now, with no remorseful calm,
I look where dead men rest,
Half jealous of that pallid balm
Which sleeps on brow & breast.

Could we know how kin we are
With every little drooping flower
With every little distant star
And every viewless power.

Could we but be content to live
As flower below, or star above
And in our daily counsels give
Less logic and more love

The desert vulture
jealousy
The sea gull
love secure
He rests not thro' the flaming day;
Ev'n in the burning Heaven above
He soars but in the search of prey;
And that is jealous love.

The sea-gull dips his salt white wings

Descend O radiant God! — the plains are thirsting
To drink the cooling dews — and man is tir'd —
More faintly pull the Steeds —
Sink in thy chariot down.

Behold who from the Oceans crystal wave
Smiles lovingly and beckons! Knows her thy heart? —
More swiftly fly the Steeds
Thetis the Divine one beckons —

Quick from the chariot into her arms
Springs the God Driver — Love usurps the reins
Still halt the panting Steeds
And drink the cooling flood!

With gentle steps into the heavenly arch

5

Kindred forgets Thee.
I alone bear the Smart.
The small worm that frets Thee,
Is cold at my heart.

6


Farewell! the world now
Reclaims our first troth,
Claims — till this willow bough
Droop over both.

Can another love be born
In heart that love has left outworn;
Appearing dead to sweet desire
Its mouths of earth once mounts of fire?

Question first, if thou would'st know,
This wilful love that wasted so;
And ask one heart that wildly went
To ashes, why the flames are spent.

Was it to our heavens bared
Reflectively when forth it fared?
And knew it when it took the leap
Of whether shallow, whether deep?

Loved she an angel of the light?
All meaner forms must woman slight.
Or was the Prince of Darkness he,

The sparrow is rich in her nest
The bee has her desire
The lover in his love is blest
The poet in his brain of fire

If curses be the wage of love
Hide in thy skies thou fruitless Jove
Not to be named
It is clear
Why the gods will not appear
They are ashamed

He loved to watch & wake
When the wing of the southwind whipt the lake
And the glassy surface in ripples brake
And fled in pretty darkness away
Like the flitting boreal lights
Rippling roses in northern nights
Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings
On which the sudden wind-god rings

Joyful
And woful,
And thankful remain;
Swaying
And praying
In hovering pain;
Heavenwards exulting
Deathhurl'd from above;
Happy alone
Are the souls that love!