In hearts too young for enmity there lies the way to make men free;
When children's friendships are world wide
New ages will be glorified.
Let child love child, and strife will cease.
Disarm the hearts, for that is peace.

In hearts too young for enmity there lies the way to make men free;
When children's friendships are world wide
New ages will be glorified.
Let child love child, and strife will cease.
Disarm the hearts, for that is peace.

In faith methinks it is no right
To hate me thus for loving ye.
So fair a face, so full of spite!
Who would have thought such cruelty?
But since there is no remedy,
That by no means ye can me love,
I shall you leave and other prove.

For if I have for my good will
No reward else but cruelty,
In faith, thereof I can no skill,
Since that I loved ye honestly;
But take heed I will till I die,
Or that I love so well again,
Since women use so much to feign.

In every solemn tree the wind
Has rung a little lonesome bell,
As sweet and clear, as cool and kind
As my voice bidding you farewell.

This is an hour that gods have loved
To snatch with bare, bright hands and hold.
Mine, with a gesture, gray and gloved,
Dismiss it from me in the cold.

Closely as some dark-shuttered house
I keep my light. How should you know,
That, as you turn beneath brown boughs,
My heart is breaking in the snow?

In Baalbec there were lovers
Who plucked the passing flower;
In Sidon and Palmyra
Each flushed, immortal hour

Was gathered in the passing;
In Greece and Rome they knew
That from the living Present
The whitest blossoms grew.

The countless generations
Like Autumn leaves go by:
Love only is eternal,
Love only does not die. . . .

I hear the dying nations
Go by on phantom feet —
But still the rose is fragrant,
And still a kiss is sweet!

I'll think of thee, mine own, dear one
As morn's first blushing ray
Diffuses light o'er the dim earth—
Turns darkness into day.

I'll think of thee at eve, my love,
When moon and star appear—
When in the horizon of my hope
All, all is bright and clear.

I'll think of thee when joy doth cast
Its gladness o'er my heart,
As peace, and love and happiness
Seem new life to impart.

I'll think of thee when dark shades fall
Athwart my fevered brow;
When low in death I hear thee lisp—
“I'm waiting for thee now.”

If you're ever going to love me love me now, while I can know
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone
And then chisel it in marble — warm love words on ice-cold stone.
If you've dear, sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know 'twould make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait till I am sleeping, ne'er to waken here again,
There'll be walls of earth between us and I couldn't hear you then.

If wishing for the mystic joys of love
Is by eternal justice deemed a fault,
Tell me, ye Powers, what woman's innocent.
O how extensive is the power of God!
Conceived in sin, we sin by God's decree
And for such forced iniquity are damned,
For who can say his nature is his own!
Who formed the mind and who instilled the soul,
Who gave us passions which we must obey
But the eternal justice of the God?
And for such forced iniquity we're damned.

If so be a Toad be laid
In a Sheeps-skin newly flayed,
And that tied to man 'twill sever
Him and his affections ever.

If love be life, I long to die,
Live they that list for me;
And he that gains the most thereby
A fool at least shall be:
But he that feels the sorest fits
'Scapes with no less than loss of wits.
Unhappy life they gain
Which love do entertain.

In day by feigned looks they live;
By lying dreams in night.
Each frown a deadly wound doth give,
Each smile a false delight.
If't hap their lady pleasant seem,
It is for other's love they deem;
If void she seem of joy,
Disdain doth make her coy.

If I kisse Anthea's brest,
There I smell the Phenix nest:
If her lip, the most sincere
Altar of Incense, I smell there.
Hands, and thighs, and legs, are all
Richly Aromaticall.
Goddesse Isis cann't transfer
Musks and Ambers more from her:
Nor can Juno sweeter be,
When she lyes with Jove, then she.