The Home Book of Verse, vol 2 | Page 3

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This etext was prepared by Dennis Schreiner, [email protected]

The Home Book of Verse, Volume 2
by Burton Egbert Stevenson

Contents of Volume I of the two volume set are in our Volume 1 This includes contents of Volumes 1 through 4 of our Etext editions.

PART II

POEMS OF LOVE

EROS
The sense of the world is short, - Long and various the report, - To love and be beloved; Men and gods have not outlearned it; And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, 'Tis not to be improved.
Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882]

"NOW WHAT IS LOVE"

"NOW WHAT IS LOVE"
Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell? It is that fountain and that well Where pleasure and repentance dwell; It is, perhaps, the sauncing bell That tolls all into heaven or hell; And this is Love, as I hear tell.
Yet what is Love, I prithee, say? It is a work on holiday, It is December matched with May, When lusty bloods in fresh array Hear ten months after of the play; And this is Love, as I hear say.
Yet what is Love, good shepherd, sain? It is a sunshine mixed with rain, It is a toothache or like pain, It is a game where none hath gain; The lass saith no, yet would full fain; And this is Love, as I hear sain.
Yet, shepherd, what is Love, I pray? It is a yes, it is a nay, A pretty kind of sporting fray, It is a thing will soon away. Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may; And this is Love, as I hear say.
Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show? A thing that creeps, it cannot go, A prize that passeth to and fro, A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that proves shall find it so; And shepherd, this is Love, I trow.
Walter Raleigh [1552?-1618]
WOOING SONG From "Christ's Victory"
Love is the blossom where there blows Every thing that lives or grows: Love doth make the Heavens to move, And the Sun doth burn in love: Love the strong and weak doth yoke, And makes the ivy climb the oak, Under whose shadows lions wild, Softened by love, grow tame and mild: Love no medicine can appease, He burns fishes in the seas: Not all the skill his wounds can stench, Not all the sea his fire can quench. Love did make the bloody spear Once a leavy coat to wear, While in his leaves there shrouded lay Sweet birds, for love that sing and play And of all love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am. Only bend thy knee to me, Thy wooing shall thy winning be!
See, see the flowers that below Now as fresh as morning blow; And of all the virgin rose That as bright Aurora shows; How they all unleaved