| |
(From Poems and Ballads, 1866)
O LOVE! what shall be said of thee? | |
| The son of grief begot by joy? | |
| Being sightless, wilt thou see? | |
| Being sexless, wilt thou be | |
| Maiden or boy? | 5 |
| |
| I dreamed of strange lips yesterday | |
| And cheeks wherein the ambiguous blood | |
| Was like a rose’s—yea, | |
| A rose’s when it lay | |
| Within the bud. | 10 |
| |
| What fields have bred thee, or what groves | |
| Concealed thee, O mysterious flower, | |
| O double rose of Love’s, | |
| With leaves that lure the doves | |
| From bud to bower? | 15 |
| |
| I dare not kiss it, lest my lip | |
| Press harder than an indrawn breath, | |
| And all the sweet life slip | |
| Forth, and the sweet leaves drip, | |
| Bloodlike, in death. | 20 |
| |
| O sole desire of my delight! | |
| O sole delight of my desire! | |
| Mine eyelids and eyesight | |
| Feed on thee day and night | |
| Like lips of fire. | 25 |
| |
| Lean back thy throat of carven pearl, | |
| Lest thy mouth murmur like the dove’s; | |
| Say, Venus hath no girl, | |
| No front of female curl, | |
| Among her Loves. | 30 |
| |
| Thy sweet low bosom, thy close hair, | |
| Thy strait soft flanks and slenderer feet, | |
| Thy virginal strange air, | |
| Are these not over fair | |
| For Love to greet? | 35 |
| |
| How should he greet thee? what new name, | |
| Fit to move all men’s hearts, could move | |
| Thee, deaf to love or shame, | |
| Love’s sister, by the same | |
| Mother as Love? | 40 |
| |
| Ah sweet, the maiden’s mouth is cold, | |
| Her breast-blossoms are simply red, | |
| Her hair mere brown or gold, | |
| Fold over simple fold | |
| Binding her head. | 45 |
| |
| Thy mouth is made of fire and wine, | |
| Thy barren bosom takes my kiss | |
| And turns my soul to thine | |
| And turns thy lip to mine, | |
| And mine it is. | 50 |
| |
| Thou hast a serpent in thine hair, | |
| In all the curls that close and cling; | |
| And ah, thy breast-flower! | |
| Ah love, thy mouth too fair | |
| To kiss and sting! | 55 |
| |
| Cleave to me, love me, kiss mine eyes, | |
| Satiate thy lips with loving me; | |
| Nay, for thou shalt not rise; | |
| Lie still as Love that dies | |
| For love of thee. | 60 |
| |
| Mine arms are close about thine head, | |
| My lips are fervent on thy face, | |
| And where my kiss hath fed | |
| Thy flower-like blood leaps red | |
| To the kissed place. | 65 |
| |
| O bitterness of things too sweet | |
| O broken singing of the dove! | |
| Love’s wings are over fleet, | |
| And like the panther’s feet | |
| The feet of Love. | 70 |
| |
