LIEBESLIED Like a frail shell on the breast of the ocean Sways now my heart to the rhythm of thine! Cradled, is borne on the crest of emotion, Sinks in the deep of a languor divine! And as the shell the wild waves onward carry, So doth thy love bear my heart to its shore! Here on its golden sands blissful to tarry Held in thy fond clasp to wander no more! Lay thy dear lips to my lips, oh my lover,— Read in mine eyes all my tongue may not tell! Love, as a bee, gaily sips (gallant rover!), Rove thou no more—nay, I yield to thy spell!
I
LONGING Oh, to be out on the Ocean! where the waves beat wild and free, Where there's naught 'twixt the sky and billows but the boat, and you, and me! Where the winds with their touch caress us, and the sea-gulls sweep on high, And the bell, from its rocky outpost, sends forth its warning cry! Oh, to be out on the Ocean! with the cold, salt spray to dash Athwart the bows of the vessel, and foaming, to merrily lash The boat to freer effort, as she plunges a-thrill with life O'er the crest of the bounding billows and above their surging strife! Oh, to be out on the Ocean! with no heart 'twixt you and me! With no bond that must bind forever here, but strong and brave and free! With the song of grand old Ocean, as it lulls us on its breast,— With the thought of a perfect union, and of perfect love and rest! Oh, to be out on the Ocean! although storms rise dark and strong, Though by wind and by wave through the tempest we sweep our way along; Till the stars come out in the Heavens, and the wind has sunk to rest, And I list to words of comfort as I lean on your faithful breast! Oh, to be out on the Ocean! and to leave the din and strife, To taste but once more of freedom and to drink of the wine of life! Oh, to be out on the Ocean! where the waves beat wild and free, With naught 'twixt the sky and the billows but the boat, and you and me!
II
ON THE SEA (The Answer) We are sailing over the crest of the billow, Afar from the world and its sorrow and pain; While I on thy soft breast my head now may pillow And lull me to rest and to peace once again! Nay, Love, how thy heart in its prison is beating! It throbs 'neath mine ear as a fluttering bird; While swift to my lips comes thy low song, repeating The lilt of the waves, in a measure half-heard! "For oh! to be out on the Ocean, the Ocean,— And oh! to be far from the world, Love, with thee!" It rises and falls with the waves' rhythmic motion, Is filled with night's balm as with starbeams the sea! "With naught 'twixt the sky and the billows"—now singing The words keep repeating the tender refrain— "But the boat,"—comes once more in cadence clear ringing,— "'Twixt the sky and billows"—I hear it again! Now, "save thee and me"—falls the song in its measure Across the wide Ocean of thought, love, from thee, And I know to my heart's deep, mysterious treasure, Thy love, like a bird, flies to harbor with me! Nay, how could we dream that o'er Time's trackless ocean Thy soul, thus responsive, should answer to mine? Or, that out of the chalice of silent emotion My heart drink in equal communion with thine!
THE RED ROSE I pinned a red rose o'er my heart, The rose my lover gave to me, With many vows and tender words, My love, my own, I love but thee. I wore the red rose o'er my heart, That summer day with gladness, And knew not doubt nor haunting care, Nor slightest touch of sadness. But ah! a thorn's within my heart, A thorn of false love's planting, Deceit had pressed its bitter sting, My life forever haunting. I took the red rose from my heart, No more, oh love, 'tis blowing, The thorn lies deep within my breast, Where never sign is showing.
THE MAIDEN AND THE BOAT A fair little boat went sailing the sea, Far over the bright blue wave; And she dipped and curt'sied, gay and free, As became a craft so brave. A blithe young maiden a song of love Sang out on the summer air; The birds took the notes, on their boughs above And answered her, cheerily, there! As the boat went out and over the bar The white sails set to the breeze, Her clear song followed on pinions afar; The birds sang forth from the trees.
O boat in your path to the rising sun, To that land beyond the sea, Pray, what is the cargo,—your journey done— You will bear her, if Fate decree? For you take her heart (on your snowy deck) Where Love is now High Priest, And you take her troth—may there be no wreck, No tempest out of the East! Will you bring her the perfect love she gave, And keep it unsoiled and true? Will you bring her a heart as strong and brave As the one she gives to you? Else what does it matter if wreck betide; Or the sun go down in cloud? It were better for her, this day, you died Than that Love should wear a shroud. It were better far that her song were mute, To swell forth a later day; For Love that hath never a constant root Must fade and wither away. So boat sail on, if you be not true; And maiden, oh hush that song! For the years that are coming swift to you Bear a dearer love along!
MY SHIP One day I cast my lot upon the troublous tides of life, And ventured all my hoarded love upon its fitful strife. On one frail mortal like myself I set the store of years, And freighted well the ship that day with all my hopes and fears. With all my hopes (for fears were not, upon that happy day), And never sign of cloud uprose above my sunlit way! Ah, me! can life e'er bring again such perfect trust as this, Such eager hopes, such joyous dreams of ever present bliss? My ship sailed forth—to many a storm she bared her gallant breast And still she sails the wide, wide seas, but never finding rest. One day! Ah, me! 'tis years ago since first I saw her sail, And sent my prayers and tears for her above the gathering gale! Will she come back, my noble ship, and captain brave and crew Of joys and hopes and high resolves, of love both deep and true? Or, solemn thought! shall she ne'er find the haven here below, But anchor in the "silent land," beyond Life's ebb and flow, Beyond vain fret and fond regard, and strivings e'er to see The reason why so oft denied our dearest hopes should be!
AN OLD SONG "Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine," I read in this old song, anew, this living love of thine! The old, old song that in the days now swift and sure are fled, Recalls its sparkle and its mirth, oblivious of its dead! It served to bear as lover's gift all tender thought and true, It wove among the garlands sweet red roses, never rue! "Drink to me only with thine eyes," ay with thy tender eyes— And read in mine, half-veiled from thee, my own heart's sweet surprise! "And I will pledge with mine," dear love, yea, pledge a thousand-fold The hours of life that thou alone in mem'ry shalt enfold. Only within thy dark, grave eyes would I be mirrored now, And only from thy folded lips learn love's own cherished vow. "Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine!" While overhead, above life's stream, shines out love's star divine. And life no more is dark and drear, and storms no more may break Where love's own glorious light shines forth and bids the heart awake!
TO MISS H., WEARING A ROSE (May 13, 1890)
THE CLOUD A Cloud scarce larger than a feather Uprose in Love's bright sky one day, But, ah, it grew to stormy weather And shrouded all the sun's bright ray! A little cloud! but ah, the sorrow That springs from bitter words that jar; How deep the pain from which we borrow,— How strong the wall that forms the bar! We may in after-hours grow tender And strive to read our lives aright, But if to Love its due we render, We know Life's thread, at best, is slight! What if the look, the word, but spoken, Had been "the last" we ever met? Ah! Life had been too short, too broken, Its pang forever to forget!
SEHNSUCHT! My heart grows faint with longing and with love As in the twilight comes thy well-loved face; And closer, closer drawn by threads that bind Thee to me, all our tender joys I trace. In lines keen-cut, and lasting as the stone When sculptor's art transforms it into life— That erst were soulless marble, still and poor To mirror forth our hope or joy or strife! In lines keen-cut! Yea, on my living heart, (That slumbered 'neath its veil of seeming death), Thou tracest characters full bold and deep, And breathest now with life-inspiring breath! Thus was Love born! To me, who deemed it cast Behind me!—with the shadows and the blight That fell on trusting heart and life and home, And wrapped my soul in darkest tones of night! Nay, but thy Love has waked me, and I live! For love and life, twin-born, are guests of mine, Thine eyes have told me lover's sweetest tale, And tender lips have sealed me wholly thine! So, if within the hours apart we walk Ofttimes in paths that take us from our nest— The nest we built with loving heart and hands— It takes not from us love nor trust nor rest! It takes them not—no hand but ours can rob Each other of this gift surpassing all! No hand but ours can bind or break this bond, And from no other hand but ours can fall Blight or distrust, or grief or bitter pain; And so, my own, in this we builded well If through life's storm or sunshine there shall fall No grief or loss our lips may ever tell! My heart grows faint with longing and with love,— And yet I know I must not keep thee e'er A tender bond-slave to my amorous will;— Such chain as that 'twere ill that thou shouldst wear! I would not have thee swayed, dear love, by aught Thy manhood would disclaim; nor would I hold Thee prisoner to my clinging heart, howe'er Its pleading touch would seek to thee enfold! Love cannot live where faith and trust are not,— Love will not brook a gilded chain to wear;— And where the fetters bind, the bird's sweet song Is hushed—the skies above, no more, are fair! But I would hold thee in my heart of hearts So little prisoner, that thou ne'er shouldst stray From Love's dear shrine,—but, through the waning years Our love-life should grow dearer day by day!
SELECTION Yes, hold me closer, closer in thy arms, And closer to thy beating heart, that I, Secure in all that crowns a woman's lot, May now, with thee, the bitter past defy! Yet would I not call down an envious doom On any of the future's sunny days; 'Twere ill in me to tempt the Fates, I trow; But, rather, as one pleading, kneels and prays:— "Stay but thy hand, O Time! and pitying grant Us of thy sunny sheaves of Harvest Day; Hours brimmed with sweetness and all glad with love,— That, passing on, we scarce may heed the way "That erst was strewn with sharpest stones and weeds; So lead us gently, Time, we may not miss Aught of Life's joy or of its brilliant light, Or, missing, crave a fuller cup than this!" Yes, hold me closer, closer; let me rest My head, content, above thy throbbing heart. Struggle and bay of laurel are the world's; But this, my own dear Love, the better part! Fame and Ambition—lo! do not they burn With all the lurid light and gleam of earth? Love, silent and benign, an influence sheds, And heralds forth in life a higher birth! Vain is ambition, yea, or conquered goal, To bind my heart or satisfy me here. Then hold me closer, closer to thee, Love; For this I give it all—hold thou me near!
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