The Light Of Love
The clouds have deepened o'er the night
Till, through the dark profound,
The moon is but a stain of light
And all the stars are drowned;
And all the stars are drowned, my love,
And all the skies are drear;
But what care we for light above,
If light if love is here?
The wind is like a wounded thing
That beats about the gloom
With baffled breast and dropping wing
And wail of deepest doom;
And wail of deepest doom, my love,
But what have we to fear
From night, or rain, or winds above,
With love and laughter here?
When She Comes Home
When she comes home again! A thousand ways
I fashion, to myself, the tenderness
Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble - yes;
And touch her, as when first in the old days
I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise
Mine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress.
The silence: and the perfume of her dress:
The room will sway a little, and a haze
Cloy eyesight - soulsight, even - for a space;
And tears - yes; and the ache here in the throat,
To know that I so ill deserve the place
Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note
I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face
Again is hidden in the old embrace.
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