Might I lie at your feet some summer day,
Some summer day, when the sky is blue
And the air is soft,
Gazing aloft,
How should I dream that day away,
Being by you?

But no. No visions would come, my own,
For I could not dream with you so near
I should not dream,
But it would seem
That a perfect love is life alone,
In Heaven and here.

She sleeps, her fair cheek pillowed on some joy,
Some satisfaction pure, without alloy.

What shall awake her? whispered love so low
That the sweet words seem melting, soft and slow?

Nay! but the blood-red torch, the clangorous strife
Of armed men round her — Thus it is with life.

The world was burnished all too bright,
Too gorgeous for the aching sight;
God breathed upon it, over night
And lo! The mountains, angel-kissed
Are clothed with blue October mist
Lovely as amethyst.

The voice of my lover, breathing above my eyelids,
" I love you, love you! "
It is like woodland water making music over mosses;
It is like leaping water, high in the sun;
It is like chimes out of midnight,
Rainbows out of turbulence and gloom.
The voice of my lover, whispering against my neck,
" I love you, love you! " It is like sudden violets in hidden places,
Like golden roses, shedding velvet upon my heart;
It is like swift fire out of Heaven, blinding fire
From which my soul may never recover;
It is like lightning and angel chanting

Love came to Earth with faith and trust,
And found all nations steeped in lust.

Sweet Pity came in ways sublime,
Her eyes on every side saw crime.

Health, peerless, sprang from Heaven's breath,
And came to Earth to find — but Death.

While Peace to see our Love and Law
Arrived to witness cruel War.

Then back to Heaven the angels flew,
Their golden pinions draped in dew.


Asking whose fault is this, oh God divine,
And God serenely answered — " It is mine. "

TO MISS

Come wed with me and we will write,
My Blue of Blues, from morn till night,
Chased from our classic souls shall be
All thoughts of vulgar progeny;
And thou shalt walk through smiling rows
Of chubby duodecimos,
While I, to match thy products nearly,
Shall lie-in of a quarto yearly.
'T is true, even books entail some trouble;
But live productions give one double.

Correcting children is such bother, —
While printers devils correct the other.
Just think, my own Malthusian dear,

Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus,
He's the Lily of the Valley,
He's the Bright and Morning Star
Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus,
He's the Fairest of ten thousand to my soul.

How I love Him, how I love Him...

I'll serve Him, I'll serve Him...

He's worthy, He's worthy,
He's the Lily of the Valley,
He's the Bright and Morning Star.
He's worthy, He's worthy,
He's the governor of the nations, bless His name.

AFTER THE TAKING OF CADIZ

Will you hear a Spanish lady,
How she wooed an Englishman?
Garments gay and rich as may be
Decked with jewels she had on.
Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her,
In his hands her life did lie;
Cupid's bands did tie them faster
By the liking of an eye.
In his courteous company was all her joy,

The fight just done, I snatched my notes,
While Jack, my gelding, ate his oats,
And ran my chance without a guard,
And for Pamunkey I rode hard;
What made me want to leave the camps,
And beat the mail with what I penned?
It was not glory and not " stamps "
It was my girl at the other end.

I wound the oaks and pines among
And felt so buoyant and so young,
You would not think I had a list
Of dead and wounded in my fist;
What said those sweet birds in the brush?
Why made that squirrel seem my friend?

Oh ! could I fly from every Eye,
Where I could vent my Grief;
I think unto my troubled Soul
It would be some Relief.

Nothing but a Redeemer's Love
Have I to comfort me;
My God, he can do nothing wrong,
And I resign'd should be.