L IKE an island in a river, Art thou, my love, to me ; I arise to fall before thee, I come to kiss thy feet; And thy love hath power upon me, For the loveliness which won me, With the love, too, doth remain. And my life it beautifieth Though love be but a shade, Known of only ere it dieth, By the darkness it hath made. PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. THE TREASURE-SHIP. Y heart is freighted full of love, With gems below and gems above, For the wind is blowing summerly. Full strings of nature's beaded pearl, And turkis-lockets, that no churl But all made up of thy blue eyes. And girdles wove of subtle sound, In Paradise, the primal pair, Before Love's art and niceness were. And carcanets of living sighs; Gems that have dropped from Love's own stem, And one small jewel that I prize The darling gaud of all of them- I've cased the rubies of thy smiles, RICHARD, LORD HOUGHTON. I. EEK not the tree of silkiest bark And balmiest bud, To carve her name while yet 'tis dark Upon the wood. The world is full of noble tasks, And wreaths hard won : Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands, Till day is done. II. Sing not that violet-veinèd skin, That cheek's pale roses, The lily of that form wherein Her soul reposes: Forth to the fight, true man, true knight; The clash of arms Shall more prevail than whispered tale To win her charms. |