Love owes tribute unto Death, Being but a flower of breath, Ev'n as thy fair body is Moment's figure of the bliss Dwelling in the mind of God When He called thee from the sod,...
My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep-- Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;...
Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought; My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity, So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,...
When Spring blows o'er the land, and sunlight flies Across the hills, we take the upland way. I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyes And lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gay...
I cannot add one tendril to your bays, Worn quietly where who love you sing your praise; But I may stand Among the household throng with lifted hand, Upholding for sweet honour of the land...