Poem

Day And Night

DAY goeth bold in cloth of gold,

A royal bridegroom he;

But Night in jewelled purple walks?

A Queen of Mystery. 

Day filleth up his loving-cup

With vintage golden-clear;

But Night her ebon chalice crowns

With wine as pale as Fear. 

Day drinks to Life, to ruddy Life,

And holds a kingly feast.

Night drinks to Death; and while she drinks?

Day rises in the East! 

They may not meet; they may not greet;

Each keeps a separate way:

Day knoweth not the stars of Night,

Nor Night the Star of Day. 

So runs the reign of Other Twain.

Behold! the Preacher saith

Death knoweth not the Light of Life,

Nor Life the Light of Death! 

True Beauty

May I find a woman fair,

And her mind as clear as air,

If her beauty go alone,

'Tis to me as if't were none.

May I find a woman rich,

And not of too high a pitch;

If that pride should cause disdain,

Tell me, lover, where's thy gain?

May I find a woman wise,

And her falseliood not disguise;

Hath she wit as she hath will,

Double arm'd she is to ill.

May I find a woman kind,

And not wavering like the wind:

How should I call that love mine,

When 'tis his, and his, and thine?

May I find a woman true,

There is Bettutv's fairest hue,

There is Beauty, Love, and Wit:

Happy he can compass it. 

Garden Of Love, The

I laid me down upon a bank,

Where Love lay sleeping;

I heard among the rushes dank

Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,

To the thistles and thorns of the waste;

And they told me how they were beguiled,

Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen;

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut

And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;

So I turned to the Garden of Love

That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tombstones where flowers should be;

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars my joys and desires. 

Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright

Sleep! sleep! beauty bright,

Dreaming o'er the joys of night;

Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep

Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet Babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace,

Secret joys and secret smiles,

Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,

Smiles as of the morning steal

O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast

Where thy little heart does rest.

O! the cunning wiles that creep

In thy little heart asleep.

When thy little heart does wake

Then the dreadful lightnings break,

From thy cheek and from thy eye,

O'er the youthful harvests nigh.

Infant wiles and infant smiles

Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles. 

Summer Night, Riverside

In the wild soft summer darkness 

How many and many a night we two together 

Sat in the park and watched the Hudson 

Wearing her lights like golden spangles 

Glinting on black satin. 

The rail along the curving pathway 

Was low in a happy place to let us cross, 

And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom 

Sheltered us, 

While your kisses and the flowers, 

Falling, falling, 

Tangled in my hair. . . .

The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.

And now, far off 

In the fragrant darkness 

The tree is tremulous again with bloom 

For June comes back.

To-night what girl 

Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair 

This year's blossoms, clinging to its coils?