Volume Ii Part 1 (1/2)

The Home Book of Verse.

Vol. 2.

by Various.

Editor: Burton Egbert Stevenson.

PART II

POEMS OF LOVE

EROS

The sense of the world is short,-- Long and various the report,-- To love and be beloved; Men and G.o.ds have not outlearned it; And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, 'Tis not to be improved.

Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882]

”NOW WHAT IS LOVE”

Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?

It is that fountain and that well Where pleasure and repentance dwell; It is, perhaps, the sauncing bell That tolls all into heaven or h.e.l.l; And this is Love, as I hear tell.

Yet what is Love, I prithee, say?

It is a work on holiday, It is December matched with May, When l.u.s.ty bloods in fresh array Hear ten months after of the play; And this is Love, as I hear say.

Yet what is Love, good shepherd, sain?

It is a suns.h.i.+ne mixed with rain, It is a toothache or like pain, It is a game where none hath gain; The la.s.s saith no, yet would full fain; And this is Love, as I hear sain.

Yet, shepherd, what is Love, I pray?

It is a yes, it is a nay, A pretty kind of sporting fray, It is a thing will soon away.

Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may; And this is Love, as I hear say.

Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show?

A thing that creeps, it cannot go, A prize that pa.s.seth to and fro, A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that proves shall find it so; And shepherd, this is Love, I trow.

Walter Raleigh [1552?-1618]

WOOING SONG From ”Christ's Victory”

Love is the blossom where there blows Every thing that lives or grows: Love doth make the Heavens to move, And the Sun doth burn in love: Love the strong and weak doth yoke, And makes the ivy climb the oak, Under whose shadows lions wild, Softened by love, grow tame and mild: Love no medicine can appease, He burns fishes in the seas: Not all the skill his wounds can stench, Not all the sea his fire can quench.

Love did make the b.l.o.o.d.y spear Once a leavy coat to wear, While in his leaves there shrouded lay Sweet birds, for love that sing and play And of all love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am.

Only bend thy knee to me, Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

See, see the flowers that below Now as fresh as morning blow; And of all the virgin rose That as bright Aurora shows; How they all unleaved die, Losing their virginity!