Oh faithless world, and thy most faithless part,
A woman's heart!
The true shop of variety, where sits
Nothing but fits
And fevers of desire, and pangs of love,
Which toys remove.
Why was she born to please, or I to trust
Words writ in dust?
Suff'ring her eyes to govern my despair,
My pain for air,
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth,
The food of youth.
Untrue she was, yet I believed her eyes,
Instructed spies;
Till I was taught, that love was but a school
To breed a fool

I've learned, in dream or legend dark,
That all love-letters purged with fire,
Drawn in one constellated spark,
To heaven aspire.

To-night there streams across the sky
An unfamiliar reef of stars;
Are those the letters you and I
Thrust through the bars?

In tears of joy they once were read,
In tears of suffering slowly burned;
And now to stars hung overhead
Can each be turned?

O leaves too warm to be discreet,
O panting words that throbbed too loud
With starry laughter now you meet
Behind a cloud!

We'll praise thee, Lord! forever;
Thou reignest, King of kings;
Thy wondrous love and favor,
Each ransom'd captive sings:
We'll celebrate thy glory
With all thy saints above,
And tell the joyful story,
Of thy redeeming love.

Oh ye are dull, ye skies,
A gloom hath o'er you roll'd,
A sorrow on me lies
Too mighty to be told;
The glory of Nature dies,
And all her heart is cold.

He whom I love is false;
The sweetest vow he swore,
His changeful mind recalls
Never, oh nevermore;
Day darkens, and life palls,
And sickens at its core.

His love's last flickering gleam
In his cold heart has died;
" But yet, if I could deem
My passion satisfied,
With friendship and esteem,
He'd give me both," he cried.

Since the sweet knowledge I possess
That she I love is mine,
All Nature throbs with happiness,
And wears a face divine.
The woods seem greener than they were,
The skies are brighter blue;
The stars shine clearer, and the air
Lets finer sunlight through.
Until I loved I was a child,
And sported on the sands;
But now the ocean opens out,
With all its happy lands.

The circles of my sympathy
Extend from earth to heaven:
I strove to pierce a mystery,
And lo! the clue is given.

Blest be the dear uniting love,
That will not let us part!
Our bodies may far off remove,
We still are one in heart.

Join'd in one spirit to our Head,
Where he appoints we go;
We still in Jesus' footsteps tread,
And still his praise we show.

Richly we share the Savior's grace,
We're one in mind and heart;
Not joy, nor grief — not time, nor place,
Not life, nor death — can part.

My Muse by thee restored to life,
To thee, Disdain, this altar rears;
Whereon she offers causeless strife,
Self-spending sighs, and bootless tears.

Long suits in vain ,
Hate for good will;
Still-dying pain,
Yet living still;
Self-loving pride,
Looks coyly strange;
Will, Reason's guide,
Desire of change;
And, last of all,
Blind Fancy's fire;

Most beautiful among the helpers thou!
All heaven's fresh air and sunshine at thy voice
Flood with refreshment many a weary brow,
And sad souls thrill with courage and rejoice
To hear God's gospel of pure gladness sound
So sure and clear in this bewildered world,
Till the sick vapors that our sense confound
By cheerful winds are into nothing whirled.
O matchless melody! O perfect art!
O lovely, lofty voice, unfaltering!
O strong and radiant and divine Mozart,
Among earth's benefactors crowned a king!

Now have I learned with much ado at last
By true disdain to kill desire;
This was the mark at which I shot so fast,
Unto this height I did aspire:
Proud Love, now do thy worst and spare not,
For thee and all thy shafts I care not.

What hast thou left wherewith to move my mind,
What life to quicken dead desire?
I count thy words and oaths as light as wind,
I feel no heat in all thy fire:
Go, change thy bow and get a stronger,
Go, break thy shafts and buy thee longer.

In vain thou bait'st thy hook with beauty's blaze,

One Love there is all roseate-flushed and fair —
This is the love that plucks the fruit of life;
One Love there is with cypress round his hair,
The love that fought and fell in bitter strife:
Not that nor this the Shade that comes to-day
With tender hands to soothe my beating heart, —
But the third Love that gains and gives away,
And in renouncing holds the better part;
His eyes are very sweet, and bright with tears,
Like thine own eyes, my Dearest, wet with love;
He knows that I am weak, and torn with fears,