Littell's Living Age/Volume 125/Issue 1611/Love

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LOVE.

A LYRIC.

Oh Love, that came to me on lightest wing
One dawning morning of the dewy spring,
When the year's earliest lark awoke to sing:

Oh Love, that swept aside, as if in jest,
The old companions I had cared for best,
Through all the days of my unbroken rest:

Oh Love, that took from me the mantle grey.
Which gentle peace had round me wrapped alway.
And bade contentment leave my onward way:

Oh Love, that decked me in the loveliness
Of an intense ethereal happiness.
And bade it henceforth be my daily dress:

Oh Love, that sent through all my tingling frame
A glowing warmth I knew not how to name.
Which burnt upon my cheek in crimson flame:

Oh Love, my strong and overflowing heart.
Which bore throughout that day so proud a part.
Believed how beautiful a thing thou art.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .


Oh Love, that left me on a wintry day.
When earth in an enshrouding whiteness lay.
And all the sunless face of Heaven was grey:

Oh Love, that snatched from me my glorious dress.
Nor cared that in my naked loneliness
I found no refuge from my deep distress:

Oh Love, that looked upon me standing there,
My hopes as grey, and all my life as bare
As sky and earth, above, around me were:

Oh Love, that flying never turned thy head,
Nor marked one tear of all the many shed
For the departed, for contentment dead:

Oh Love, that found me peacefully secure.
That gave me riches which might not endure,
And left me so immeasurably poor:

Oh Love, my feeble and all empty heart.
Which bore throughout that day so sad a part,
Knows what an awful thing thou wert and art.

All the Year Round.