Traverse not the globe for lore! The sternest But the surest teacher is the heart; Studying that and that alone, thou learnest Best and soonest whence and what thou art.
Moor, Chinese, Egyptian, Russian, Roman, Tread one common down-hill path of doom; Everywhere the names are man and woman, Everywhere the old sad sins find room.
Evil angels tempt us in all places. What but sands or snows hath earth to give? Dream not, friend, of deserts and oases; But look inwards, and begin to live! --_James Clarence Mangan_
Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand.
It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. --_Christina Georgina Rossetti_
There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming And the lull'd winds seem dreaming.
And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving As an infant's asleep; So, the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean. --_George Gordon_ (_Lord Byron_)
What shall I send my love today When all the woods attune to love, And I would show the lark and dove That I can love as well as they? ...
I'll send a kiss, for that would be The quickest sent, the lightest borne; And well I know to-morrow morn She'll send it back again to me.
Go, happy winds! ah, do not stay Enamour'd of my lady's cheek, But hasten home, and I'll bespeak Your services another day! --_Matilda Betham Edwards_
To His Mistress, Objecting to His Neither Toying nor Talking
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play Still with your curls, and kiss the time away. You blame me, too, because I can't devise Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes; By Love's religion, I must here confess it, The most I love when I the least express it. Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found To give, if any, yet but little sound. Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know, That chiding streams betray small depths below. So, when Love speechless is, she doth express A depth in love, and that depth bottomless. Now since my love is tongueless, know me such, Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much. --_Robert Herrick_