Once did I breathe another's breath, And in my mistress move, Once was I not mine own at all,-- And then I was in love.

Once wore I bracelets made of hair, And collars did approve, Once wore my clothes made out of wax,-- And then I was in love.

Once did I sonnet to my saint, My soul in numbers move, Once did I tell a thousand lies,-- And then I was in love.

Once in my ear did dangling hang A little turtle-dove, Once, in a word, I was a fool,-- And then I was in love.

--_Robert Jones_

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time.

And while ye may go marry: For having lost but once your prime You may forever tarry.

--_Robert Herrick_

My Kate

She was not as pretty as women I know, And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow Drop to shade, melt to naught in the long-trodden ways, While she's still remember'd on warm and cold days-- My Kate.

Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace; You turn'd from the fairest to gaze on her face: And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth, You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth-- My Kate.

Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke, You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke: When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone, Tho' the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone-- My Kate.

I doubt if she said to you much that could act As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her-- My Kate.

She never found fault with you, never implied Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side Grew n.o.bler, girls purer, as thro' the whole town The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown-- My Kate.

None knelt at her feet confess'd lovers in thrall; They knelt more to G.o.d than they used,--that was all: If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant.

But the charm of her presence was felt when she went-- My Kate.

The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude, She took as she found them, and did them all good; It always was so with her--see what you have!

She has made the gra.s.s greener even here with her grave-- My Kate.

My dear one!--When thou wast alive with the rest, I held thee the sweetest and loved thee the best: And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart-- My Kate?

--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

There is no friend like an old friend Who has shared our morning days, No greeting like his welcome, No homage like his praise.

Fame is the scentless sunflower, With gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the breathing rose With sweets in every fold.

--_Oliver Wendell Holmes_

Grief

I tell you, hopeless grief is pa.s.sionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to G.o.d's throne in loud excess Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In soul as countries lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death-- Most like a monumental statue set In everlasting watch and moveless woe Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.

Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: If it could weep, it could arise and go.

--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

Love

_Totus est Inermis Idem_...

No show of bolts and bars Can keep the foeman out, Or 'scape his secret mine Who enter'd with the doubt That drew the line.

No warder at the gate Can let the friendly in; But, like the sun, o'er all He will the castle win, And shine along the wall.

Implacable is Love-- Foes may be bought or teased From their hostile intent, But he goes unappeased Who is on kindness bent.

--_Henry David Th.o.r.eau_

Trust Thou Thy Love

Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?

Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?

Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet; Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.

--_John Ruskin_

Spiritual Love

What care I tho' beauty fading Die ere Time can turn his gla.s.s?

What tho' locks the Graces braiding Perish like the summer gra.s.s?

Tho' thy charms should all decay, Think not my affections may!

For thy charms--tho' bright as morning-- Captured not my idle heart; Love so grounded ends in scorning, Lacks the barb to hold the dart.

My devotion more secure Woos thy spirit high and pure.

--_William Caldwell Roscoe_