The Home Book of Verse, vol 2 | Page 8

- Not least though last.
True, separations Ask more than patience; What desperations From
such have risen! But yet remaining, What is't but chaining Hearts which,
once waning, Beat 'gainst their prison? Time can but cloy love, And use
destroy love: The winged boy, Love, Is but for boys - You'll find it
torture Though sharper, shorter, To wean and not Wear out your joys.
George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]
"THEY SPEAK O' WILES"
They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, An' ruin in her ee; I ken they
bring a pang at whiles That's unco' sair to dree;
But mind ye this, the half-ta'en kiss, The first fond fa'in' tear, Is, heaven
kens, fu' sweet amends, An' tints o' heaven here.
When two leal hearts in fondness meet, Life's tempests howl in vain;
The very tears o' love are sweet When paid with tears again.
Shall hapless prudence shake its pow? Shall cauldrife caution fear? Oh,
dinna, dinna droun the lowe That lights a heaven here!
William Thom [1798?-1848]
"LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY"
Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And
under the graves, Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way.
Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie, Where there is no
space For receipt of a fly, Where the midge dares not venture, Lest
herself fast she lay, If Love come, he will enter, And find out the way.

You may esteem him A child for his might, Or you may deem him A
coward from his flight: But if she whom Love doth honor Be concealed
from the day, Set a thousand guards upon her, Love will find out the
way.
Some think to lose him, By having him confined, And some do suppose
him, Poor thing, to be blind; But if ne'er so close ye wall him, Do the
best that you may, Blind Love, if so ye call him, Will find out the way.
You may train the eagle To stoop to your fist, Or you may inveigle The
phoenix of the east; The tiger, ye may move her To give over her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover - He will find out the way.
Unknown
A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS
She has laughed as softly as if she sighed, She has counted six, and
over, Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried - Oh, each a worthy
lover! They "give her time"; for her soul must slip Where the world has
set the grooving; She will lie to none with her fair red lip: But love
seeks truer loving.
She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb, As her thoughts were
beyond recalling; With a glance for one, and a glance for some, From
her eyelids rising and falling; Speaks common words with a blushful
air, Hears bold words, unreproving; But her silence says - what she
never will swear - And love seeks better loving.
Go, lady! lean to the night-guitar, And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far, At the voice of an in-door singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes; Glance lightly, on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries - But dare not call it loving!
Unless you can think, when the song is done, No other is soft in the
rhythm; Unless you can feel, when left by One, That all men else go
with him; Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath, That
your beauty itself wants proving; Unless you can swear "For life, for
death!" - Oh, fear to call it loving!
Unless you can muse in a crowd all day On the absent face that fixed
you; Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of
heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the
dream is past - Oh, never call it loving!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]

"LOVE HATH A LANGUAGE" From "To My Son"
Love hath a language for all years - Fond hieroglyphs, obscure and old
- Wherein the heart reads, writ in tears, The tale which never yet was
told.
Love hath his meter too, to trace Those bounds which never yet were
given, - To measure that which mocks at space, Is deep as death, and
high as heaven.
Love hath his treasure hoards, to pay True faith, or goodly service done,
- Dear priceless nothings, which outweigh All riches that the sun shines
on.
Helen Selina Sheridan [1807-1867]
SONG From "Maud"
O, let the solid ground, Not fail beneath my feet Before my life has
found What some have found so sweet; Then let