And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasped at night. A trifle, sweet! which true love spells True love interprets right alone. His light upon the letter dwells, So, if I waste words now, in truth You must blame Love. His early rage Had force to make me rhyme in youth, And makes me talk too much in age. And now those vivid hours are gone, Love that hath us in the net, Many suns arise and set. Many a chance the years beget. Love is hurt with jar and fret. Love is made a vague regret. Eyes with idle tears are wet. Idle habit links us yet. What is love? for we forget: Look through mine eyes with thine. True wife, Round my true heart thine arms entwine; My other dearer life in life, Look through my very soul with thine! Untouched with shade of years, any May those kind eyes forever dwell! They have not shed a many tears, Dear eyes, since first I knew them well. Yet tears they shed: they had their part The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss that brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more, With farther lookings on. The kiss, But that God bless thee, dear-who wrought With blessings beyond hope or thought, With blessings which no words can find. Arise, and let us wander forth То yon old mill across the wolds; Is dry and dewless. Let us go. FATIMA. I. O Love, Love, Love! O withering might! Throbbing through all thy heat and light, II. Last night I wasted hateful hours I thirsted for the brooks, the showers : I crushed them on my breast, my mouth Of that long desert to the south. ΙΙΙ. Last night, when some one spoke his name, Were shivered in my narrow frame. O Love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through IV. Before he mounts the hill, I know V. The wind sounds like a silver wire, And, isled in sudden seas of light, |