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Yet the sin is on us both
Time to dance is not to woo — Wooer light makes fickle troth
Scorn of me recoils on you :
Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high;
With a loyal gravity.
Point her to the starry skies ;
Pure from courtship's flatteries. By your truth she shall be true
Ever true, as wives of yore; And her Yes once said to you,
Shall be Yes for evermore.
Sung beside her in her youth ;
Lit for blessed mysteries ;
Truth is fair; should we forego it?
Truth is large. Our aspiration
What is true and just and honest,
O brave poets, keep back nothing;
A CHANGED WORLD.
THE face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move still, oh, still, beside me; as they stole Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink Of obvious death, where I who thought to sink Was caught up into love and taught the whole Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, And praise its sweetness, sweet, with thee anear. The names of country, heaven, are changed away, For where thou art or shalt be, there or here; And this -- this lute and song - loved yesterday, (The singing angels know) are only dear, Because thy name moves right in what they say.
LOVE, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, Let temple burn, or flax! An equal light Leaps in the flame cedar-plank or weed. And love is fire; and when I say at need I love thee — mark!- I love thee ! - in thy sight I stand transfigured, glorified aright, With conscience of the new rays that proceed Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
ONLY A CURL.
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
ME ETHINKS we do as fretful children do,
Leaning their faces on the window-pane To sigh the glass dim with their own breaths' stain, And shut the sky and landscape from their view. And thus, alas ! since God the maker drew A mystic separation 'twixt those twain, The life beyond us, and our souls in pain, We miss the prospect which we're called unto, By grief we're fools to use.
Be still and strong, O man, my brother! hold thy sobbing breath, And keep thy soul's large window pure from wrong, That so, as life's appointment issueth Thy vision may be clear to watch along The sunset consummation-lights of death.
ONLY A CURL.
FRIENDS of faces unknown and a land
Unvisited over the sea,
Held up to be looked at by me,
ask me to ponder and say What a father and mother can do, With the bright fellow-locks put away Out of reach, beyond kiss, in the clay
Where the violets press nearer than you.
Shall I speak like a poet, or run
Into weak woman's tears for relief?
And Love kn ws the secret of Grief.
And I feel what it must be and is,
When God draws a new angel so Through the house of a man up to His, With a murmur of music, you miss,
And a rapture of light, you forego.
How you think, staring on at the door,
Where the face of your angel flashed in, That its brightness, familiar before, Burns off from you ever the more
For the dark of your sorrow and sin.