Page:Poems Griffith.djvu/34

And they will tell thee that the love
 To our young splints given,
Like theirs, shines sweetly on the earth
 But has its home in heaven.
          List, love.

Look, at our own dear hour of tryst,
 Upon the passion-flower,
I culled and laid upon thy heart
 In our own favorite boner;
And if thou lov'st me dearly still,
 Thy gentle eye will trace
The blessed story of our loves
 Upon its pale, sweet face.
          Look, love.

Oh! look and listen at the calm
 And holy midnight hour,
When love's deep charm o'er human souls
 Hath strong and mystic power;