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And the hungriest lion doubted

Ere he disputed with him.

The nightingale's complaint,

It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine,

0, beloved as thou art !

That was a life to live for!

Not this weak human life,
With its frivolous, bloodless passions,

Its poor and petty strife !
Come to my arms, my hero,

The shadows of twilight grow, And the tiger's ancient fierceness

In my veins begins to flow. Come not cringing to sue me !

Take me with triumph and power, As a warrior storms a fortress !

I will not shrink or cower. Come as you came in the desert,

Ere we were women and men, When the tiger passions were in us, And love as you loved me then !

WILLIAM W. STORY,

0, lift me from the grass !

I die, I faint, I fail ! Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas !

My heart beats loud and fast : Oh! press it close to thine again,

Where it will break at last!

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE.

SMILE AND NEVER HEED ME.

Though, when other maids stand by,
I may deign thee no reply,
Turn not then away, and sigh, --

Smile, and never heed me!
If our love, indeed, be such
As must thrill at every touch,
Why should others learn as much ? -

Smile, and never heed me !

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore,
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forebore, ...
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, he hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

Even if, with maiden pride,
I should bid thee quit my side,
Take this lesson for thy guide, --

Smile, and never heed me!
But when stars and twilight meet,
And the dew is falling sweet,
And thou hear'st my coming feet, -
Then thou-then-mayst heed me!

CHARLES SWAIN.

The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, O 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 ancar.
The names of country, heaven, are changed away
For where thou art or shall 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.

I ARISE FROM DREAMS OF THEE.

SERENADE.

I arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -- who knows how ?-

To thy chamber-window, sweet!

INDEED, this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
Doth crown me with a ruby large enow
To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
I should not love withal, unless that thou
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were

crossed,

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream, The champak odors fail

Like sweet thoughts in a dream ;

And love called love. And thus, I cannot , SAY over again, and yet once over again, speak

That thou dost love me. Though the word reOf love even, as a good thing of my own.

peated Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and Should seem “a cuckoo-song," as thou dost weak,

treat it,
And placed it by thee on a golden throne, - Remember, never to the hill or plain,
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek !) Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain,
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

Comes the fresh spring in all her green completed.
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain IF thou must love me, let it be for naught

Cry : "Speak once more — thou lovest !” Who Except for love's sake only. Do not say,

I can fear “I love her for her smile, her look, her way

Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll, Of speaking gently, --- for a trick of thought

Too many flowers, though each shall crown the That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

year ? A sense of pleasant ease on such a day.”

Say thou dost love me, love me, love me, -- toll For these things in themselves, Beloved, may The silver iterance ! - only minding, dear, Be changed, or change for thee, –and love so To love me also in silence, with thy soul.

wrought May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, — Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, A creature might forget to weep, who bore | Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine? Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby. And would the sun for thee more coldly shine, But love me for love's sake, that evermore Because of grave-damps falling round my head ? Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. I marveled, my Beloved, when I read .

Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine

But ... so much to thee? Can I pour thy wine I NEVER gave a lock of hair away

While my hands tremble? Then my soul, instead To a man, Dearest, except this to thee,

Of dreams of death, resumes life's lower range. Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully

Then, love me, Love ! look on me... breathe on I ring out to the full brown length and say,

me! “Take it.” My day of youth went yesterday; | As brighter ladies do not count it strange, My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee.

For love, to give up acres and degree, Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle tree,

I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange As girls do, any more. It only may

| My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee! Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of

tears, Taught drooping from the head that hangs aside My letters ! all dead paper, mute and white !Through sorrow's trick. I thought the funeral. And yet they seem alive and quivering shears

Against my tremulous hands which loose the string Would take this first, but Love is justified, -- And let them drop down on my knee to-night. Take it thou, finding pure, from all those years, This said, he wished to have me in his sight The kiss my mother left here when she died. Once, as a friend : this fixed a day in spring

To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing,

Yet I wept for it ! this ... the paper 's light... The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise ;

Said, Dear, I love thee ; and I sank and quailed I barter curl for curl upon that mart,

As if God's future thundered on my past. And from my poet's forehead to my heart

This said, I am thine, -- and so its ink has paled Receive this lock which outweighs argosies, —. With lying at my heart that beat too fast. As purely black, as erst, to Pindar's eyes,

| And this ...( Love, thy words have ill availed, The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart

If what this said, I dared repeat at last !
The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart,
Thy bay-crown's shade, Beloved, I surmise,
Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black !

I THINK of thee ! my thoughts do twine and bud
Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath, About thee, as wild vines about a tree,
I tie the shadow safe from gliding back, Put out broad leaves, and soon there's naught to see
And lay the gift where nothing hindereth, Except the straggling green which hides the wood.
Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood
No natural heat till mine grows cold in death. I will not have my thoughts instead of thee

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Who art dearer, better ! Rather instantly

MY LITTLE SAINT.
Renew thy presence. As a strong tree should,
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,

| I CARE not, though it be And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee

By the preciser sort thought popery ; Drop heavily down, burst, shattered, every

We poets can a license show

For everything we do. where! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee

Hear, then, my little saint ! I'll pray to thee.
And breathe within thy shadow a new air,
I do not think of thee, - I am too near thee.

| If now thy happy mind,
Amidst its various joys, can leisure find

To attend to anything so low
The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

As what I say or do, To love me, I looked forward to the moon Regard, and be -- what thou wast ever -- kind. To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon And quickly tied to make a lasting troth. Let not the blest above Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly Engross thee quite, but sometimes hither rove : loathe ;

Fain would I thy sweet image see,
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one

And sit and talk with thee;
For such man's love !- more like an out of tune Nor is it curiosity, but love.
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste Ah! what delight ’t would be,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.

| Wouldst thou sometimes by stealth converse with I did not wrong myself so, but I placed

me ! A wrong on thec. For perfect strains may float

How should I thy sweet commune prize, Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced, -

And other joys despise ! And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat. Come, then! I ne'er was yet denied by thee.

I would not long detain First time he kissed me, he but only kissed Thy soul from bliss, nor keep thee here in pain; The fingers of this hand wherewith I write ;

Nor should thy fellow-saints e'er know
And, ever since, it grew more clean and white, 1 Of thy escape below :
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its “O list!” Before thou ’rt missed, thou shouldst return again.
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight Sure, heaven must needs thy love,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height | As well as other qualities, improve :
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, Come, then ! and recreate my sight
Half falling on the hair. O, beyond meed! | With rays of thy pure light;
That was the chrism of love, which love's own | 'T will cheer my eyes more than the lamps above.

crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. But if Fate's so severe
The third upon my lips was folded down As to confine thee to thy blissful sphere
In perfect, purple state ; since when, indeed,

(And by thy absence I shall know I have been proud, and said, "My love, my own!” | Whether thy state be so),

Live happy, and be mindful of me there.

JOHN NORRIS.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

WAITING FOR THE GRAPES.
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's

That I love thee, charming maid, I a thousand Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

times have said, I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; And a thousand times more I have sworn it, I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. But 't is easy to be seen in the coldness of your I love thee with the passion put to use

mien In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. That you doubt my affection - or scoin it. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

Ah me!
With my lost saints,- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life !--and, if God choose, Not a single grain of sense is in the whole of
I shall but love thee better after death.

these pretenses
· ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. For rejecting your lover's petitions ;

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Had I windows in my bosom, 0, how gladly, I'd

Then tell me, 0 why, .. expose 'em !

In that lovely blue eye,
To undo your fantastic suspicions.

Not a charm of its tint I discover ;
Ah me!

Or why should you wear

The only blue pair
You repeat I've known you long, and you hint That ever said “No” to a lover ?
I do you wrong,

Dear Fanny !
In beginning so late to pursue ye ;

THOMAS MOORE. But 't is folly to look glum because people did

not come Up the stairs of your nursery to woo ye.

ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. Ah me!

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, In a grapery one walks without looking at the the dove, stalks,

The linnet, and thrush say, “ I love, and I love !" While the bunches are green that they 're bear. In the winter they 're silent, the wind is so strong; ing :

What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud All the pretty little leaves that are dangling at the song. eaves

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warni Scarce attract e’en a moment of staring.

Weather,
Ah me! And singing and loving,--all come back together.

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, But when time has swelled the grapes to a richer The green fields below him, the blue sky above, style of shapes,

That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, And the sun has lent warmth to their blushes, “I love my Love, and my Love loves me.” Then to cheer us and to gladden, to enchant us

SAMUEL COLERIDGE. and to madden, Is the ripe ruddy glory that rushes.

Ah me!

THE LOVE-KNOT.

O, 't is then that mortals pant while they gaze on Tying her bonnet under her chin,
Bacchus' plant, -

She tied her raven ringlets in.
0, 't is then, — will my simile serve ye? But not alone in the silken snare
Should a damsel fair repine, though neglected like Did she catch her lovely floating hair,
a vine ?

For, tying her bonnet under her chin,
Both erelong shall turn heads topsy-turvy. She tied a young man's heart within.

Ah me!
WILLIAN MAGINN.

They were strolling together up the hill,
Where the wind came blowing merry and chill ;

And it blew the curls a frolicsome race,
BLACK AND BLUE EYES.

All over the happy peach-colored face.

Till scolding and laughing, she tied them in,
THE brilliant black eye

Under her beautiful, dimpled chin.
May in triumph let fly
All its darts without caring who feels ’em ; | And it blew a color, bright as the bloom
But the soft eye of blue,

Of the pinkest fuchsia's tossing plume,
Though it scatter wounds too,

All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em ! That ever imprisoned a romping curl,
Dear Fanny !

Or, in tying her bonnet under her chin,

Tied a young man's heart within.
The black eye may say,
“Come and worship my ray ;

Steeper and steeper grew the hill,
By adoring, perhaps you may move me!” Madder, merrier, chiller still,
But the blue eye, half hid,

The western wind blew down, and played
Says, from under its lid,

The wildest tricks with the little maid, "I love, and am yours, if you love me!" As, tying her bonnet under her chin, Dear Fanny !

| She tied a young man's heart within,

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