Welcome to More I Love You Poems #4

You have come your way, I have come my way;
You have stepped across your people, carelessly, hurting them all;
I have stepped across my people, and hurt them in spite of my care.
 

But steadily, surely, and notwithstanding
We have come our ways and met at last.
Here in this upper room.
 

Here the balcony
Overhangs the street where the bullock wagons slowly
Go by with their loads of green and silver birch trees
For the feast of Corpus Christi.
 

Here from the balcony
We look over the growing wheat, where the jade green river
Goes between the pine woods,
Over and beyond to where the many mountains
Stand in their blueness, flashing with snow and the morning.
 

I have done; a quiver of exultation goes through me, like the first
Breeze of the morning through a narrow white birch.
You glow at last like the mountain tops when they catch
Day and make magic in heaven.
At last I can throw away world without end, and meet you
Unsheathed and naked and narrow and white;
At last you can throw immortality off, and I see you
Glistening with all the moment and all your beauty.
 

Shameless and callous I love you;
Out of indifference I love you;
Out of mockery we dance together,
Out of the sunshine into the shadow,
Passing across the shadow into the sunlight,
Out of sunlight to shadow.
 

Strange fits of passion have I known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the Lover's ear alone,,
What once to me befell.
 

When she I loved looked every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening moon.
 

Upon the moon I fixed my eye,
All over the wide lea;
With quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.
 

And now we reached the orchard plot;
And, as we climbed the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy's cot
Came near, and nearer still.
 

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
And all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon.
 

My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropped.
 

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Lover's head!
`O mercy!' to myself I cried,
`If Lucy should be dead!'
William Wordsworth
 

I loved thee, though I told thee not,
Right early and long,
Thou went my joy in every spot,
My theme in every song.
 

And when I saw a stranger face
Where beauty held the claim,
I gave it klike a secret grace
The being of thy name.
 

And all the charms if face and voice
Which I in others see
Are but the recollection choice
Of what I felt for thee.
The Secret - John Clare
 

As you came from the holy land
Of Walsinghame,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?
 

How shall I know your true love,
That have met many one
As I went to the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?
 

She is neither white nor brown,
But as the heavens fair:
There is none hath a form so divine
In the earth or the air.
 

Such a one did I meet, good Sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a queen, like a nymph, did appear,
By her gait, by her grace.
 

She hath left me here all alone,
All alone as unknown,
Who sometimes did me lead with herself,
And me lov'd as her own.
 

What's, the cause that she leaves you alone
And a new way doth take,
Who loved you once as her own,
And her joy did you make?
 

I have lov'd her all my youth,
But now Old as you See,
Love likes not the falling fruit
From the withered tree:
 

Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past;
He is blind, he is deaf when he list
And in faith never fast:
 

His desire is a dureless content
And a trustless joy;
He is won with a world of despair
And is lost with a toy:
 

Of womenkind such indeed is the love
Or the word love abused,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excused:
 

But love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning:
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning.
Sir Walter Ralegh
 

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail.
High, high stars.
 

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