Poetry
If you love me, come and be
In my heart of hearts and see
How I think of naught but thee!
If you hate me, tell me so,
I should love you still, I know,---
Hate to love will sometimes grow.
If you neither love nor hate,
For your grace I ne'er will wait;
You will never be my fate!
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes
Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw;
Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss;
None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss;
Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
There would be little sign I had done so;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
Oh! she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
���Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,
���And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
In all earth's music, grand, or sweet,
or strong,
To hear one name, as if 'twere set in song.
In all my poems, written 'neath the sun,
To find the praises, o'er and o'er, in one.
To feel thyself a lesser part of what
Hadst thou not found, the earth would be as naught.
To think all beauty, perfectness and grace,
As but the shadow of one worshiped face.
With that face's coming, to bask in warmth
and light
And with its going to grope, as in the night.
To rather feel a dear hand's stinging blow
Than any caress another might bestow.
To rather sit in gloom, and hear one voice
Than, missing that, on mountain tops rejoice.
To lose all individual hope and aim,
And have no wish, but for another's fame.
To count grief naught, though great, if
one is glad.
To feel no joy if that dear one is sad.
Do thy heart strings, responsive, answer
this?
Then thou hast known true love in all its bliss.
The longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of souls towards the heights above,
The stronger this truth comes home to me---
That the Universe rests on the shoulders of love,
A love so limitless, deep, and broad,
That men have re-named it, and called it God.
And nothing that was ever born or evolved,
Nothing created by light or force
But deep in its system there lies dissolved
A shining drop from the great Love source;
A shining drop that shall live for aye;
Though kingdoms may perish and stars decay.
all poetry is copyright of LionHeart.
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