No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes
When perfect peace in thy fair face I found;
But far within, where all is holy ground,
My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:
For she was born with God in Paradise;
Nor all the shows of beauty shed around
This fair false world her wings to earth have bound:
Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies.
Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire
Of deathless spirits; nor eternity
Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare.
Not love but lawless impulse is desire:

No love, to love of man and wife;
No hope, to hope of constant heart;
No joy, to joy in wedded life;
No faith, to faith in either part:
Flesh is of flesh, and bone of bone
When deeds and words and thoughts are one.

No hate, to hate of man and wife;
No fear, to fear of double heart;
No death, to discontented life;
No grief, to grief when friends depart:
They tear the flesh and break the bone
That are in word or thought alone.

Thy friend an other friend may be,
But other self is not the same:

Night's first sweet silence fell, and on my bed
Scarcely I closed defeated eyes in sleep
When fierce Love seized me by the hair, and said,
(Night's bitter vigil he had bade me keep),
" Thou slave, " he said, " a thousand amorous girls
Hast thou not loved? And canst thou lie alone?
O hard of heart! " I leaped, and he was gone,
And with my garment in disordered swirls,
And with bare feet I sought his path where none
There was by which to go. and now I run,
Being weary, and to move brings me no peace;
And turning back is bitter, and to stay

Nightingales warbled without,
Within was weeping for thee:
Shadows of three dead men
Walk'd in the walks with me:

Nightingales sang in the woods:
The Master was far away:
Nightingales warbled and sang
Of a passion that lasts but a day;
Still in the house in his coffin the Prince of courtesy lay.

Two dead men have I known
In courtesy like to thee:
Two dead men have I loved
With a love that ever will be:
Three dead men have I loved, and thou art last of thethree.

VERSE

Leave me, love, and never come back,
I'm gonna face the end alone
Here in the twilight of the lovely love we've known.
Mourning dove, your feathers are black,
Your voice is like a night wind's moan.
Somewhere there's dawn in view,
But not for you.

REFRAIN

Love turned the light out,
Now there's no end to the darkness I see;
Empty shadows blinding me.
Love turned the light out,
Now it won't matter wherever I go,
In this gloomy afterglow.
Last night

Night has come. Let us go then, Goddess of my dreams.
The Angel of Love has called us to the glory of his altar.
Darkness stirs up hymns and songs,
Its joy pervades the water, trees and clouds.
Let us dream now, for this is our night of love.

Let us stand along the Nile, where moonlight, lustrous as a baby's skin,
Floods the green bank beyond its water and its shade.
Let us play as it plays, kissing the roses and the dew,
There on the hillside, grass will be our cradle,
Silence will enfold our souls, Love's nightingale will trill.

THE NIGHT has a thousand eyes,
The day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When its love is done.

Never think she loves him wholly,
Never believe her love is blind,
All his faults are locked securely
In a closet of her mind;
All his indecisions folded
Like old flags that time has faded,
Limp and streaked with rain,
And his cautiousness like garments
Frayed and thin, with many a stain -
Let them be, oh, let them be,
There is treasure to outweigh them,
His proud will that sharply stirred,
Climbs as surely as the tide,
Senses strained too taut to sleep,
Gentleness to beast and bird,
Humor flickering hushed and wide

Nephews and Nieces, — love your leaden statues.
Call them by name; call him " Paul. " She is " Virginia. "
He leans on his spade. Virginia fondles a leaden
fledgling in its nest. Paul fondles with his Eyes.
You need no cast in words. You know the Statues,
but not their Lawns; nor words to plant again
the shade trees, felled; ponds, filled, and built over.
Your Garden is destroyed, but there are other Gardens
yet to spare from the destroying Spoor
unseen, save in destructful Acts. Unseen
a hungered Octopus crawls under ground

(with Irving Mills)

If you hear a song in blue
Like a flower crying for the dew,
That was my heart serenading you,
My prelude to a kiss.
If you hear a song that grows
From my tender sentimental woes,
That was my heart trying to compose
A prelude to a kiss.
Though it's just a simple melody
With nothing fancy, nothing much,
You could turn it to a symphony,
A Schubert tune with a Gershwin touch.
Oh! How my love song gently cries
For the tenderness within your eyes.
My love is a prelude that never dies,
A prelude to a kiss.