Part 28

And O, her happy, queenly tread, And O, her queenly golden head! But O, her heart, when all is said, Her woman's heart for me!

William Watson [1858-1935]

ANY LOVER, ANY LASS

Why are her eyes so bright, so bright, Why do her lips control The kisses of a summer night, When I would love her soul?

God set her brave eyes wide apart And painted them with fire; They stir the ashes of my heart To embers of desire.

Her lips so tenderly are wrought In so divine a shape, That I am servant to my thought And can no wise escape.

Her body is a flower, her hair About her neck doth play; I find her colors everywhere, They are the pride of day.

Her little hands are soft, and when I see her fingers move I know in very truth that men Have died for less than love.

Ah, dear, live, lovely thing! my eyes Have sought her like a prayer; It is my better self that cries "Would she were not so fair!"

Would I might forfeit ecstasy And find a calmer place, Where I might undesirous see Her too desired face:

Nor find her eyes so bright, so bright, Nor hear her lips unroll Dream after dream the lifelong night, When I would love her soul.

Richard Middleton [1882-1911]

SONGS ASCENDING

Love has been sung a thousand ways - So let it be; The songs ascending in your praise Through all my days Are three.

Your cloud-white body first I sing; Your love was heaven's blue, And I, a bird, flew carolling In ring on ring Of you.

Your nearness is the second song; When God began to be, And bound you strongly, right or wrong, With his own thong, To me.

But oh, the song, eternal, high, That tops these two! - You live forever, you who die, I am not I But you.

Witter Bynner [1881-

SONG

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down." - But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!" - But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay. So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.

And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet. For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.

Rupert Brooke [1887-1915]

SONG

How do I love you? I do not know. Only because of you Gladly I go.

Only because of you Labor is sweet, And all the song of you Sings in my feet.

Only the thought of you Trembles and lies Just where the world begins - Under my eyes.

Irene Rutherford McLeod [1891-