I love you with my every Breath

I love you with my every breath,
I make you songs like thunder birds,
Give you my life—you give me death
And stab me with your dreadful words.

You laid my head against your heart
Last night, my lips upon your breast
And now you say that we must part
For fear your heart should be oppressed:

You cannot go against the world
For my sake only—thus your phrase,
But I—God’s beauty is unfurled
In your gold hair, and in your gaze

The wisdom of God’s bride—each soul
That shares his love, and yours and mine,
Two lovers share your aureole
And one is mortal, one divine:

One came on earth that you might know
His love for you—that you deny,
Now you give me this equal blow:
One died for you, and one will die.

O Bright! thy Stateliness and Grace

O Bright! thy stateliness and grace
Thy bearing and thy dignity
Bring intuition of the place
That still is native unto thee.

Solely thy native airs delight
Can still thy silences embalm,
Solely thy native leven smite
Through thunders of unbroken calm.

A twyfold presence is and seems
To emanate from thine atmosphere,
Clothed in reality and dreams
It is in heaven, and it is here.

The forms of love enfolding thee
To flowers of earth and heaven belong,
Whose roots take hold in mystery
Too deep for song, too deep for song.

White Dove of the Wild Dark Eyes

White Dove of the wild dark eyes
Faint silver flutes are calling
From the night where the star-mists rise
And fire-flies falling
Tremble in starry wise,
Is it you they are calling?

White Dove of the beating heart
Shrill golden reeds are thrilling
In the woods where the shadows start,
While moonbeams, filling
With dreams the floweret’s heart
Its dreams are thrilling.

White Dove of the folded wings,
Soft purple night is crying
With the voice of fairy things
For you, lest dying
They miss your flashing wings,
Your splendorous flying.

My Soul is Sick with Longing

My soul is sick with longing, shaken with loss,
Yea, shocked with love lost sudden in a dream,
Dream-love dream-taken, swept upon the stream
Of dreaming Truth, dreamt true, yet deemed as dross:
Dreamt Truth that is to waking Truth a gloss,
Dream-love that is to the life of loves that seem
To bear the rood of love’s eternal theme,
The strength that brings to Calvary their cross.

I dreamt that love had lit, a burning bird
On one green bough of Time, of that dread tree
Whereto my soul was crucified: that he
Sang with a seraphs voice some wondrous word
Blotting out pain, but swift the branch I heard
Break, withered, and the song ceased suddenly.

When all the Stars become a Memory

When all the stars become a memory
Hid in the heart of heaven: when the sun
At last is resting from his weary run
Sinking to glorious silence in the sea
Of God’s own glory: when the immensity
Of Nature’s universe its fate has won
And its reward: when death to death is done
And deathless Being’s all that is to be—

Your praise shall ’scape the grinding of the mills:
My songs shall live to drive their blinding cars
Through fiery apocalypse to Heaven’s bars!
When God’s loosed might the prophet’s word fulfils,
My songs shall see the ruin of the hills,
My songs shall sing the dirges of the stars.

Your Pride

I sit and beg beside the gate,
I watch and wait to see you pass,
You never pass the portals old,
That gate of gold like gleaming glass.

Yet you have often wandered by,
I’ve heard you sigh, I’ve seen you smile,
You never smile now as you stray—
You can but stay a little while.

And now you know your task is hard,
You must discard your jewelled gear,
You must not fear to crave a dole
From any soul that waits you here.

And you have still your regal pride
And you have sighed that I should see
Your gifts to me beside the gate,
Your pride, your great humility.