I HAVE lov'd flowers that fade,
Within whose magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents:
A honeymoon delight, -
A joy of love at sight,
That ages in an hour :
My song be like a flower !

I have lov'd airs that die
Before their charm is writ
Along a liquid sky
Trembling to welcome it.
Notes, that with pulse of fire
Proclaim the spirit's desire,
Then die, and are nowhere:-
My song be like an air!

Die, song, die like a breath,
And wither as a bloom :
Fear not a flowery death,
Dread not an airy tomb!
Fly with delight, fly hence!
"T was thine love's tender sense
To feast; now on thy bier
Beauty shall shed a tear.

THOU DIDST DELIGHT MY

EYES

THOU didst delight my eyes: Yet who am I? nor first Nor last nor best, that durst Once dream of thee for prize; Nor this the only time Thou shalt set love to rhyme.

Thou didst delight my ear: Ah! little praise; thy voice Makes other hearts rejoice

Makes all ears glad that hear;
And short my joy but yet,
O song, do not forget.

For what wert thou to me? How shall I say? The moon, That pour'd her midnight noon Upon his wrecking sea ;

A sail, that for a day
Has cheer'd the castaway.

AWAKE, MY HEART!

AWAKE, my heart, to be lov'd, awake, awake!

The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,

It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake The o'ertaken moon. Awake, O heart,

awake!

She, too, that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee;

Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee,

Already they watch the path thy feet shall take:

Awake, O heart to be lov'd, awake, awake!

And if thou tarry from her, if this could be,

She cometh herself, O heart, to be lov'd, to thee;

For thee would unasham'd herself forsake:

Awake to be lov'd, my heart, awake, awake!

Awake! The land is scatter'd with light, and see,

Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree;

And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake :

Awake, O heart, to be lov'd, awake, awake!

Lo, all things wake and tarry and look for thee:

She looketh and saith, "O sun, now bring him to me.

Come, more ador'd, O ador'd, for his coming's sake,

And awake, my heart, to be lov'd, awake, awake!"

HAS summer come without the rose,
Or left the bird behind?

Is the blue changed above thee,

O world! or am I blind?

Will you change every flower that grows,
Or only change this spot,
Where she who said, I love thee,
Now says, I love thee not?

The skies seem'd true above thee,
The rose true on the tree;

The bird seem'd true the summer through,
But all prov'd false to me.
World, is there one good thing in you,
Life, love, or death or what?
Since lips that sang, I love thee,

Have said, I love thee not?

With no delaying, over shore and deep! Be with my lady when she wakes from sleep;

Touch her with kisses softly on each eye;

And say, before she puts her dreaming by:

"Within the palaces of slumber keep

One little niche wherein sometimes to weep For one who vainly toils till he shall die!" Yet say again, a sweeter thing than this: "His life is wasted by his love for thee." Then, looking o'er the fields of memory, She'll find perchance, o'ergrown with grief and bliss,

Some flower of recollection, pale and fair, That she, through pity, for a day may wear.

A VAIN WISH

I WOULD not, could I, make thy life as mine;

Only I would, if such a thing might be, Thou shouldst not, love, forget me utterly; Yea, when the sultry stars of summer shine

On dreaming woods, where nightingales repine,

I would that at such times should come to thee

Some thought not quite unmix'd with pain, of me,

-

Some little sorrow for a soul's decline. Yea, too, I would that through thy brightest times,

Like the sweet burden of remember'd rhymes,

That gentle sadness should be with thee, dear;

And when the gates of sleep are on thee shut,

I would not, even then, it should be mute,

But murmur, shell-like, at thy spirit's ear.

LOVE'S MUSIC

LOVE held a harp between his hands, and, lo!

The master hand, upon the harp-strings laid

By way of prelude, such a sweet tune play'd

As made the heart with happy tears o'erflow;