Twain that were foes, while Mary lived, are fled;
One laurel-crowned abides in heaven, and one
Beneath the earth has fared, a fallen sun,
A light of love among the loveless dead.
The first is chastity, that vanquished
The archer Love, that held joint empery
With the sweet beauty that made war on me,
When laughter of lips with laughing eyes was wed.

Their strife the Fates have closed, with stern control,
The earth holds her fair body, and her soul
An angel with glad angels triumpheth;
Love has no more than he can do; desire

I WANT to sing something — but this is all —
I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull
As though they were damp, and the echoes fall
Limp and unlovable.

Words will not say what I yearn to say —
They will not walk as I want them to,
But they stumble and fall in the path of the way
Of my telling my love for you.

Simply take what the scrawl is worth —
Knowing I love you as sun the sod
On the ripening side of the great round earth
That swings in the smile of God.

Truth, be more precious to me than the eyes
Of happy love; burn hotter in my throat
Than passion; and possess me like my pride;
More sweet than freedom; more desired than joy;
More sacred than the pleasing of a friend.

True friendship unfeignid
Doth rest unrestrainid,
No terror can tame it:
Not gaining, nor losing,
Nor gallant gay glosing,
Can ever reclaim it.
In pain, and in pleasure,
The most truest treasure
That may be desirid,
Is loyal love deemid,
Of wisdom esteemid
And chiefly requirid.

True-blue the salmon—from his sally
Back to the redds he'll roam.
When weary of the towns' stale tally
Lovely to look to home.

The trouble with you is
You think all I want to do
Is get you into bed
And make love with you.

And that's not true!

I was just trying to make friends.
All I wanted to do
Was get into bed
With you and make

Love with you.

Who was that little bird we saw towering upside down
This afternoon on that pine cone, on the edge of a cliff,
In the snow? Wasn't he charming? Yes, he was, now,
Now, now,
Just take it easy.

I love to see the big white moon,
A-shining in the sky;
I love to see the little stars,
When the shadow clouds go by.

I love the rain drops falling
On my roof-top in the night;
I love the soft wind's sighing,
Before the dawn's gray light.

I love the deepness of the blue,
In my Lord's heaven above;
But better than all these things I think,
I love my lady love.

THE YOUNG GIRL

Even as a child that weeps,
Lulled by the love it keeps,
My grief lies back and sleeps.

Yes, it is Love bears up
My soul on his spread wings,
Which the days would else chafe out
With their infinite harassings.
To quicken it, he brings
The inward look and mild
That thy face wears, my child.

As in a gilded room
Shines 'mid the braveries
Some wild-flower, by the bloom

Awake, he loved their voices,
And wove them into his rhyme;
And the music of their laughter
Was with him all the time.
Though he knew the tongues of nations,
And their meanings all were dear,
The prattle and lisp of a little child
Was the sweetest for him to hear.

Too late, alas! I must confess,
— You need not arts to move me;
Such charms by nature you possess,
— 'Twere madness not to love ye.

Then spare a heart you may surprise,
— And give my tongue the glory
To boast, though my unfaithful eyes
— Betray a tender story.