Nature did her so much right As she scorns the help of art. In as many virtues dight As e'er yet embraced a heart. So much good so truly tried, Some for less were deified. Wit she hath, without desier To make known how much she hath; And her anger flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath. Reason masters every sense, And her virtues grace her birth; Lovely as all excellence, Modest in her most of mirth. Such she is; and if you know That she be but somewhat young; WILLIAM BROWNE. LOVE NOT ME FOR COMELY GRACE. LOVE not me for comely grace, No, nor for my constant heart; For those may fail or turn to ill, Keep therefore a true woman's eye, ANONYMOUS HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK. HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or from starlike eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; But a smooth and steadfast mind T. CAREW. "T will not prove as true a touch; Say thou lovest me, while thou live While that life endures; Nay, and after death, in sooth, As now when in my May of youth: Constant love is moderate ever, A suit of durance let it be, Winter's cold or summer's heat, Never can rebel: - Shall I love you like the fire, love, With furious heat and noise, Whate'er it finds, destroys. I will love you like the stars, love, After weeping tears of dew; They love the ages through! And when this life is o'er, love, With all its joys and jars, We'll leave behind the wind and fire To wage their boisterous wars, Then we shall only be, love, The nearer to the stars! R. W. RAYMOND. A "MERCENARY" MARRIAGE. SHE moves as light across the grass My little maid of Moreton Hall. No matter how or where we loved, Or when we 'll wed, or what befall; Her pedigree-good sooth, 't is long! As meek she glides through Moreton Hall. I laugh; she laughs; the hills and vales We let the neighbors talk their fill, For life is sweet, and love is strong, And two, close knit in marriage ties, The whole world's shams may well despise, Its folly, madness, shame, and wrong. And this new loving sets the groove Too much the way of loathing. IX. "Unless he gives me all in change, I forfeit all things by him: The risk is terrible and strange I tremble, doubt, . . . deny him. X. "He's sweetest friend, or hardest foe, Best angel, or worst devil; I either hate or . . . love him so, I can't be merely civil! XI. "You trust a woman who puts forth Her blossoms thick as summer's? You think she dreams what love is worth, Who casts it to new-comers? XII. "Such love's a cowslip-ball to fling, A moment's pretty pastime ; I give . . . all me, if anything, The first time and the last time. XIII. "Dear neighbor of the trellised house, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole, Is there within thy heart a need The demon-spirit, change, On all things new and strange? It may not be thy fault alone, But shield my heart against thine own. Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day And answer to my claim, That fate, and that to-day's mistake, Not thou, had been to blame? Nay, answer not, I dare not hear, ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. A WOMAN'S QUESTION. Or place my hand in thine, I break all slighter bonds, nor feel Is there one link within the past Or is thy faith as clear and free Does there within thy dimmest dreams Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost! Look deeper still: if thou canst feel, Within thy inmost soul, THE LADY'S "YES." "YES," I answered you last night; "No," this morning, sir, I say. Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day. When the viols played their best, Lamps above, and laughs below, Love me sounded like a jest, Fit for yes or fit for no. Call me false or call me free, Vow, whatever light may shine, No man on your face shall see Any grief for change on mine. Yet the sin is on us both; Time to dance is not to woo; Wooing light makes fickle troth Scorn of me recoils on you. Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly, as the thing is high, Bravely, as for life and death. With a loyal gravity. GIVE ME MORE LOVE OR MORE GIVE me more love or more disdain ; The temperate affords me none; Like Danaë in a golden shower, Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture hopes; and he's possessed Of heaven that's but from hell released; Then crown my joys, or cure my pain; Give me more love or more disdain. In parcels, as I did, would have gone near I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him : For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black; SHAKESPEARE. THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION. SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, What care I how fair she be? Shall my foolish heart be pined If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be ? Shall a woman's virtues move If she be not such to me, 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Think what with them they would do Great, or good, or kind, or fair, GEORGE WITHER. LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN. LET not woman e'er complain Of inconstancy in love; Let not woman e'er complain Fickle man is apt to rove; Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change; Ladies, would it not be strange Man should then a monster prove? Mark the winds, and mark the skies; Why then ask of silly man, ROBERT BURNS. ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. LOVE in my bosom like a bee, Now with his wings he plays with me, Within mine eyes he makes his nest, Ah! wanton, will you? And if I sleep, then pierceth he And makes his pillow of my knee, Strike I the lute, he tunes the string, Else I with roses every day Will whip you hence, And bind you when you long to play, I'll shut my eyes to keep you in, If he gainsay me! |