SONGS ASCENDING

Love has been sung a thousand ways-- So let it be; The songs ascending in your praise Through all my days Are three.

Your cloud-white body first I sing; Your love was heaven's blue, And I, a bird, flew carolling In ring on ring Of you.

Your nearness is the second song; When G.o.d began to be, And bound you strongly, right or wrong, With his own thong, To me.

But oh, the song, eternal, high, That tops these two!-- You live forever, you who die, I am not I But you.

Witter Bynner [1881-

SONG

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown.

Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down."-- But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high.

So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!"-- But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay.

So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.

And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet.

For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.

Rupert Brooke [1887-1915]

SONG

How do I love you?

I do not know.

Only because of you Gladly I go.

Only because of you Labor is sweet, And all the song of you Sings in my feet.

Only the thought of you Trembles and lies Just where the world begins-- Under my eyes.

Irene Rutherford McLeod [1891-

TO... IN CHURCH

If I was drawn here from a distant place, 'Twas not to pray nor hear our friend's address, But, gazing once more on your winsome face, To worship there Ideal Loveliness.

On that pure shrine that has too long ignored The gifts that once I brought so frequently I lay this votive offering, to record How sweet your quiet beauty seemed to me.

Enchanting girl, my faith is not a thing By futile prayers and vapid psalm-singing To vent in crowded nave and public pew.

My creed is simple: that the world is fair, And beauty the best thing to worship there, And I confess it by adoring you.

Alan Seeger [1888-1916]

AFTER TWO YEARS

She is all so slight And tender and white As a May morning.

She walks without hood At dusk. It is good To hear her sing.

It is G.o.d's will That I shall love her still As He loves Mary.

And night and day I will go forth to pray That she love me.

She is as gold Lovely, and far more cold.

Do thou pray with me, For if I win grace To kiss twice her face G.o.d has done well to me.

Richard Aldington [1892-

PRAISE

Dear, they are praising your beauty, The gra.s.s and the sky: The sky in a silence of wonder, The gra.s.s in a sigh.

I too would sing for your praising, Dearest, had I Speech as the whispering gra.s.s, Or the silent sky.

These have an art for the praising Beauty so high.

Sweet, you are praised in a silence, Sung in a sigh.

Seumas O'Sullivan [1879-

PLAINTS AND PROTESTATIONS