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LOVED ONCE.

LOVED ONCE.

I CLASSED, appraising once,

Earth's lamentable sounds; the "well-a-day,"

The jarring "yea" and "nay,"

The fall of kisses on unanswering clay,

The sobbed "farewell," the "welcome" mournfuller;— But all did leaven the air

With a less bitter leaven of sure despair,

Than these words-"I loved once."

And who saith, "I loved once?"

Not angels, whose clear eyes love, love foresee,

Love through eternity!

Who, by to love, do apprehend to be.

Not God, called Love, his noble crown-name, casting

A light too broad for blasting!

The Great God, changing not from everlasting,

Saith never, "I loved once."

Oh, never is "Loved once."

Thy word, thou Victim-Christ, misprized friend?
Thy cross and curse may rend;

But, having loved, Thou lovest to the end!

It is man's saying-man's! Too weak to move
One sphered star above,

Man desecrates the eternal God-word, love,
With his "no more," and "once."

LOVED ONCE.

How say ye, “We loved once,"

Blasphemers? Is your earth not cold enow,

Mourners, without that snow?

Ah, friends! and would ye wrong each other so?
And could ye say of some, whose love is known,

Whose prayers have met your own,

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Whose tears have fallen for you, whose smiles have shone,

Such words, "We loved them once?"

Could ye "We loved her once"

Say calm of me, sweet friends, when out of sight?

When hearts of better right

Stand in between me and your happy light?

And when, as flowers kept too long in shade,

Ye find my colours fade,

And all that is not love in me, decayed?
Such words, "Ye loved me once!"

Could ye "We loved her once"
Say cold of me, when further put away

In earth's sepulchral clay?

When mute the lips which deprecate to day?-
Not so! not then-least then! When life is shriven,
And death's full joy is given;

Of those who sit and love you up in heaven
Say not, "We loved them once."

Say never, ye loved once!

God is too near above, the grave beneath,
And all our moments breathe

Too quick in mysteries of life and death,
For such a word. The eternities avenge
Affections light of range-

There comes no change to justify that change,
Whatever comes-loved once!

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ARAB LOVE-SONG.

And yet that same word "once"

Is humanly acceptive! Kings have said,
Shaking a discrowned head,

"We ruled once;"-dotards, "We once taught and led;"— Cripples once danced i' the vines; and bards approved

Were once by scornings moved;

But love strikes one hour-love. Those never loved

Who dream that they loved once.

E. B. Browning.

ARAB LOVE-SONG.

My faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;

It panted for thee like the hind at noon
For the brooks, my love.

Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight,
Bore thee far from me;

My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,
Did companion thee.

Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,
Or the death they bear,

The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
With the wings of care;

In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,

Shall mine cling to thee,

Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,

It may bring to thee.

P. B. Shelley.

SPRINGTIDE THE SEASON OF LOVE.

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SPRINGTIDE THE SEASON OF LOVE.

WHERE lags my mistress while the drowsy year
Wakes into spring? Lo! Winter sweeps away
His snowy skirts, and leaves the landscape gay
With early verdure; and there's merry cheer
Among the violets, where the sun lies clear

On the south hill-sides; and at break of day
I hear the blue-bird busy at my ear;

And swallows shape their nests of matted clay
Along the eaves, or dip their narrow wings
Into the mists of evening. All the earth
Stirs with the wonder of a coming birth,

And all the air with feathery music rings.

Spring, it would crown thee with transcendent worth To bring my love among thy beauteous things!

George H. Boker.

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LOVE-PLIGHT.

LOVE-PLIGHT.

By ev'ry sweet tradition of true hearts,
Graven by Time, in love with his own lore;
By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts,
Wherein Love died to be alive the more;
Yea, by the sad impression on the shore,
Left by the drown'd Leander, to endear
That coast for ever, where the billows' roar
Moaneth for pity in the poet's ear;

By Hero's faith, and the foreboding tear
That quench'd her brand's last twinkle in its fall;
By Sappho's leap, and the low rustling fear
That sigh'd around her flight; I swear by all,
The world shall find such pattern in my act,
As if Love's great examples still were lack’d.

T. Hood.