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Love that is completely reciprocal and sincere,
and when each one sees in the other the
compliment of himself,
is known as Love as the result of faith.
Unknown
If instead of a gem, or even a flower,
we should cast the gift of a loving
thought into the heart of a friend,
that would be giving as the angels give.
George McDonald
The day is done and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist:
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come,read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall sooth this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of the day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.
For,like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who,through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice;
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Longfellow
Living
To touch the cup with eager lips
and taste,not drain it;
To woo and tempt and court a bliss-
and not attain it;
To fondle and caress a joy,
yet hold it lightly,
Lest it becomes necessity and cling too tightly;
To watch the sunset in the west without regretting;
To hail it's advent in the east-
the night forgetting;
To smother care in happiness and grief in laughter;
To hold the present close-
not questioning hereafter;
To have enough to share-
To know the joy of giving;
To thrill with all the sweets of life-
Is Living
Need Of Loving
Folks need a lot of loving in the morning;
The day is all before, with cares beset-
The cares we know, and they that give no warning;
For love is God's own antidote for fret.
Folk need a heap of loving in the noontime-
In the battle lull, the moment snatched from strife-
Halfway between the waking and the croontime,
While bickering and worriment are rife.
Folks hunger so for loving at the nighttime,
When wearily they take them home to rest-
At slumber song and turning-out-the-light time-
Of all the times for loving, that's the best.
Folk want a lot of loving every minute-
The sympathy of others and their smile!
Till life's end from the moment they begin it,
Folks need a lot of loving all the while.
S.Gillian
A horse can't pull while kicking.
This fact I merely mention.
And he can't kick while pulling,
Which is my chief contention.
Lets imitate the good old horse
And lead a life that's fitting;
Just pull an honest load, and then
There'll be no time for kicking.
anon
From: To One in Paradise
Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
E.A.Poe
My Books and I
My books and I are good old pals:
My laughing books are gay,
Just suited for my merry moods
When I am wont to play.
Bill Nye comes down to joke with me
And, Oh, the joy he spreads.
Just like two fools we sit and laugh
And shake our merry heads.
When I am in a thoughtful mood,
With Stevenson I sit,
Who seems to know I've had enough
Of Bill Nye and his wit.
And so, more thoughtful than I am,
He talks of lofty things,
And thus an evening hour we spend
Sedate and grave as kings.
And should my soul be torn with grief
Upon my shelf I find
A little volumn, torn and thumbed,
For comfort just designed.
I take my little Bible down
And read it's pages o'er,
And when I part from it I find
I'm stronger than before.
E.A.Guest
I'll Remember You, Love, In My Prayers
When the curtains of night are pinned back by the stars,
And the beautiful moon leaps the skies,
And the dewdrops of heaven are kissing the rose,
It is then that my memory flies
As if on the wings of some beautiful dove
In haste with the message it bears
To bring you a kiss of affection and say;
I'll remember you, love, in my prayers.
Go where you will on land or on sea,
I'll share all your sorrows and cares;
And at night, when I kneel by my bedside to pray
I'll remember you, love, in my prayers.
I have loved you too fondly to ever forget
The love you have spoken to me;
And the kiss of affection still warm on my lips
When you told me how true you would be.
I know not if fortune be fickle or friend,
Or if time on your memory wears;
I know that I love you wherever you roam,
And remember you, love, in my prayers.
When angels in Heaven are guarding the good,
As God has ordained them to do,
In answer to prayers I have offered Him,
I know there is one watching you.
And may it's bright spirit be with you through life
To guide you up heaven's bright stairs,
And meet with the one who has loved you so true
And remembered you, love, in her prayers.
Anon.
The Light Of A Cheerful Heart
I tell you that you and I and the commonest
person are all journeying the same way,
hemmed in by the same narrow path,
leading to the eternal years.
We pride ourselves over our particular superiority;
but really there is little difference between us;
And in this journey over a thousand hills and
valleys called life,he is wiser who is
patient where the way is hard,has faith when
he does not understand,and carries into the
dark places the light of a cheerful heart.
from Songs Of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee;
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
"Pipe a song about a Lamb!"
So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again;"
So I piped: He wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:"
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
"Pipier, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read."
So he vanish'd from my sight,
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And I mad a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
W.Blake
Cradle Song
From groves of spice,
O'er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
Aglint with dew,
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire-flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy-bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream
S. Naidu
Last Love
Love at the closing of our days
Is apprehensive and very tender.
Glow brighter, brighter farewell rays
Of one last love in it's evening splendor.
Blue shade takes half the world away:
Through western clouds alone some light is slanted.
O tarry, O tarry, declining day,
Enchantment, let me stay enchanted.
The blood runs thinner, yet the heart
Remains as ever deep and tender.
O last belated love, thou art
A blend of joy and of hopeless surrender.
Fyodor Tyutchev
To A Friend
I ask one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night. Alas how few
There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed, but so seldom heard it's tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart it's songs!
Amy Lowell
The Cottage
The house my earthly parent left,
My heavenly Father e'er throws down;
For 'tis of air and sun bereft,
Nor stars its roof in beauty crown.
He gave it me, yet gave it not,
As one whose gifts are wise and good:
'Twas but a poor and clay-built cot,
And for a time the storms withstood;
But lengthening years, and frequent rain,
O'ercame its strength, it tottered, fell;
And left me homeless here again,
And where I go I could not tell.
But soon the light and open air,
Recieved me as a wandering child;
And I soon thought their house more fair,
And was from all my grief beguiled.
Mine was the grove, the pleasant field,
Where dwelt the flowers I daily trod;
And there beside them too I kneeled,
And called their friend, my Father, God.
Jones Very
My delight and thy delight
Walking like two angels white,
In the gardens of the night:
My desire and thy desire
Twining to a tongue of fire,
Leaping live, and laughing higher;
Thro' the everlasting strife
In the mystery of life.
Love, from whom the world begun,
Hath the secret of the sun.
Love can tell, and love alone,
Whence the million stars were strewn,
Why each atom knows it's own,
How, in spite of woe and death,
Gay is life, and sweet is breath.
This he taught us, this we knew,
Happy in his science true,
Hand in hand as we stood
Neath the shadows of the wood.
Heart to heart as we lay
In the dawning of the day.
Robert Bridges
The Gift
Once, long ago, a friend gave me a book
Of poems-gems, the fruit of many minds;
I read them, thoughtless of the toil they took-
The words move softly as a stream that winds.
But now I know the lines I glibly read
Perhaps were born of pain-a broken heart;
Regret that followed with it's stealthy tread-
The arrow of remorse with searching dart.
For wisdom comes from time's stern tutelage;
The years are keys, unlocking many a door;
And sometimes as I read mist blurs the page,
Here Soul meets soul, a precious golden store.
M.B.bruner
The Arrow And The Song
I show an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I know not where;
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow in it's flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I know not where;
For, who has sight so keen and strong
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
Longfellow
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tales were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts were yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret power by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
Christopher Brennan
I Want You
I want you when the shades of eve are falling
And purpling shadows drift across the land;
When sleepy birds to loving mates are calling-
I want the soothing softness of your hand.
I want you when the stars shine up above me,
And Heaven's flooded with the bright moonlight;
I want you with your arms and lips to love me
Throughout the wonder watches of the night.
I want you when in dreams I still remember
The ling'ring of your kiss-for old times' sake-
With all your gentle ways, so sweetly tender,
I want you in the morning when I wake.
I want you when the day is at it's noontime,
Sun-steeped and quiet, or drenched with sheets of rain;
I want you when the roses bloom in June-time;
I want you when the violets came again.
I want you when my soul is thrilled with passion;
I want you when I'm weary and depressed;
I want you when I'm lazy, slumberous fashion
My senses need the haven of your breast.
I want you when through fields and woods I'm roaming;
I want you when I'm standing on the shore;
I want you when the summer birds are homing-
And when they've flown-I want you more and more.
I want you dear, through every changing season;
I want you with a tear or with a smile;
I want you more than any rhyme or reason-
I want you, want you, want you-all the while.
A.L.Gillom
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