. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. a beauty that a man desires. And wearies with possessing. Love—What is the secret charm that never tires ? A secret worth the guessing, Love !And thou hast guessed it—of the stars and moonAnd glad-returning morn ; for I as soonOf Natures fairest sights and sounds could tireAs, kneeling here, could other shrine desire ! i 8i AFTERWARDS. A X/E can never meet again, For our lot is now decided ; Our two paths are now it more of loss, or gain, To have loved thee once, as I did ? II. Nothing ever can efface The deep stain of my transgression
. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. a beauty that a man desires. And wearies with possessing. Love—What is the secret charm that never tires ? A secret worth the guessing, Love !And thou hast guessed it—of the stars and moonAnd glad-returning morn ; for I as soonOf Natures fairest sights and sounds could tireAs, kneeling here, could other shrine desire ! i 8i AFTERWARDS. A X/E can never meet again, For our lot is now decided ; Our two paths are now it more of loss, or gain, To have loved thee once, as I did ? II. Nothing ever can efface The deep stain of my transgression ;-All the memories of possession, All a bleeding hearts disgrace,All a cruel worlds oppression. III. Who has suffered, understands How, when Hope no longer borrowsFrom the past, to gild our morrows, We can sit with folded hands,At the quiet end of 82 afterwards: IV. Was it better to have met — So you sigh, in Loves December,Watching cold grey ash and ember- Than have nothing to regret, And have nothing to remember ?Aug., 83 THE SONGS MESSAGE. TJ LY to her heart, my little Song,And say that unto her belongThy trills and graces ;That, as I sing, before my eyesI see the dearest face ariseOf all dear faces ! that by night thou earnest to some poor bird, from oer the sea That feebly flutters ;Till, soaring with moms strength to sing,The tender hopes of budding Spring Once more it utters. Song, like streamlet on its way,That hath no respite, night or day. Do not fatigue her !But may thy melody at timesFloating, with its persistent rhymes. Her heart beleaguer ! 84 THE SONGS MESSAGE. IV. So, little Song, without applause,In secret plead with her my cause, Till her heart, ringingWith thy low music, hath confessedThat, of all songs, she loves the bestThat of Loves singing !April, 1881.
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