For these things in themselves, Beloved, may

A lover, my Belovèd! thou canst wait

I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth.

In words of love hid in me...out of reach.

And rend the garment of my life, in brief,

Thine own dear pitys wiping my cheeks dry,--

To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.

To pipe now gainst the valley nightingale

And that I love (O soul, we must be meek--)

To live on still in love, and yet in vain,--

And that I love (O soul, we must be meek !)

A melancholy music,--why advert

My hand to hold my spirit so far off

Seeing that I stand unwon (however wooed)

But love me for loves sake, that evermore

Throw kerchiefs at a smile, and have no ruth

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Oh, yes ! they love through all this world of ours !

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day--

Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,

Slips on the nut if, after frequent showers,

Between our faces, to cast light upon each?

To these things ? O Beloved, it is plain

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech

And placed it by thee on a golden throne,--

I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach

From myself--me--that I should bring thee pr九*九*藏*書oof

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,

Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

And since, not so long back but that the flowers

And think it soon when others cry <i>Too late.</i>

Hadst set me an example, shown me how,

Through sorrow and sickness, to bring souls to touch,

I should not love withal, unless that thou

But love me for loves sake, that evermore

Nay, let the silence of my womanhood

Will turn the thing called love, aside to hate

And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,

Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!

Or else to oblivion. But thou art not such

Throw kerchiefs at a smile, and have no ruth

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

And therefore if to love can be desert,

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day" -</i>

For any weeping. Polyphemes white tooth

Nay, let the silence of my womanhood

Commend my woman-love to thy belief,

In words, of love hid in me out of reach.

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

I love her for her smile--her look--her way

And rend the garment of my life in brief

Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

Thou mayst love on, through loves eternity.

To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.

Between our faces, to cast light on each ?--

As these you see, and trembling knees that fail

And yet, because I love thee, I obtain

Indeed this very love which is my boast,

And think it soon when others cry Too late.

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech

Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,

This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,

Hadst set me an example, shown me how,

Doth crown me with ruby large enow

By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,

When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,

By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,

My hand to hold my spirit so far off

And which, when rising up from breast to brow,九_九_藏_書

To live on still in love, and yet in vain,--

A melancholy music,--why advert

To these things? O Belovèd, it is plain

And placed it by thee on a golden throne,--

As these you see, and trembling knees that fail

I am not of thy worth nor for thy place !

For these things in themselves, Beloved, may

A lover, my Beloved ! thou canst wait

Of love even, as a good thing of my own:

For any weeping. Polyphemes white tooth

Slips on the nut if, after frequent showers,

I am not of thy worth nor for thy place!

Doth crown me with a ruby large enow

<i>"I love her for her smile--her look--her way

I should not love withal, unless that thou

This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,

I have heard love talked in my early youth,

Thou mayst love on, through loves eternity.

The love I bear thee, finding words enough,

And therefore if to love can be desert,

I have heard love talked in my early youth,

I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale

Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,

I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth,

Except for loves sake only. Do not say

From that same love this vindicating grace,

To draw mens eyes and prove the inner cost,--

To pipe now gainst the valley nightingale

Except for loves sake only. Do not say

This weary minstrel-life that once was girt

Of love even, as good thing of my own:

Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,

Indeed this very love which is my boast,

To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail

Will turn the thing called love, aside to hate

The love I bear thee, finding words enough,

Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought

Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

And which, when rising up from breast to brow,

From myself.. me.. that I should bring thee proof,

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

To bear the burden of a heavy heart,--

From that same love this vindicating grace,

And yet, because I love thee, I obtain

To bear the burden of a heavy heart,--

Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought九九藏書

The shell is over-smooth,-- and not so much

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Or else to oblivion. But thou art not such

To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail

Then gathered, smell still. Mussulmans and Giaours,

Thine own dear pitys wiping my cheeks dry, -

This weary minstrel-life that once was girt

To draw mens eyes and prove the inner cost,--

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby !

And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,

And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak

Then gathered, smell still. Mussulmans and Giaours

Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief

And since, not so long back but that the flowers

The shell is over-smooth,--and not so much

When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,

I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale

And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak

Commend my woman-love to thy belief,--

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Through sorrow and sickness, to bring souls to touch,