“Among Those Joys For Which We Utter Praise.”

Among those joys for which we utter praise That were not in our lives, one year ago;-- (No need to name them, dearest; for you know Each one that came, our ignorant hearts to raise To love’s high level;) let us count the days Before we knew each other; days when no Sweet premonition of love’s full rich glow Gleamed on the darkness of our separate ways. All preludes should be simple; that no dream Or hint of this new beauty came to fill The unconscious hours with meaning, does but seem Fit introduction to the joys that thrill Our glad souls now, from love that knew no still Awaking,--but dawned instantly supreme.

BECAUSE.

Not because you are gentle of speech, O brave knight of mine! Nor because in the chivalrous list With the brightest you shine; Nor because when you pass on the street All the world turn to praise The wonderful charm of your look And grace of your ways; Nor because in your presence I know I have but to command, And the coveted treasures at once Will fall from your hand; Nor because by the glance of your eyes That so tenderly drew My whole heart unto yours, I may know I am perfect to you;

But because in your presence, dear, I Grow gentle of speech; The haughty young maiden who once Was so wilful to teach; And because when I pass on the street All the world turn to praise A certain new charm in my look And grace in my ways; And because in your presence I lose The proud wish to command; Contented, nay eager, dear love, To be led by your hand; And because your eyes full of reproach At some things that I do, Still show the belief I shall grow To be worthy of you;-- Do I love you? ’twere idle indeed To refuse now to yield; Quite useless for lips to deny What the eyes have revealed; Yet not, (let me say it, for fear That too vain you should be--) Not so much for what you are yourself, As for what you make me!

IVY.

Threading its noiseless way among fair things Love-chosen to make beautiful my room, The ivy spreads its tender living gloom, Darkening and brightening the wall; now clings Closely around some picture, and now swings Some airy shoot of tremulous young bloom Into the freer sunlight; till the doom Of their slow silent fate together brings At last the branches that for long years went Their single, separate ways. Did no swift thrill Of subtle recognition flash, and fill Their veins? Oh Ivy, still must we lament Thou canst not with our joy in thee have part, And thyself know how fair a thing thou art!

INFLUENCE.

Hearts that are glad Beat quicker for the smiling of her lips; Even as the summer air that seems o’ercharged With fragrance, will grow even sweeter still At sudden blossoming of one more rose. But the rose, too, Has her own secret. From the heavenly blue, Regnant upon his throne of light, the sun Sends her his glances; till the timid rose Slowly, leaf after leaf, unveils to him Her beauty; and the summer air at once Takes to itself the soft and fragrant sigh, Nor dreams she offered to a distant sun The incense of her soul. Even so I hear You praise a sudden sweetness in her ways, Grown strangely kind and tender to us all; For me, I recognize the o’erfull heart, Trembling and faint with effort to express Surcharge of beauty that her soul has drawn From one who stood above her.

MIRACLE.

If love had found me in cold cheerless ways And led me forth into the light;--if bloom Of sweet and sudden flowers, instead of gloom In the long nights and unillumined days, Thy love had brought me;--then at love’s high praise I had not so much wondered;--if the doom Of pitiless destiny had given room To thy bright presence,--then in swift amaze I were less awed than now. No life could be More sweet than that past life of mine, I thought; And when the changing years in fulness brought Another life enriched by love and thee, That all my beautiful past should seem as naught,-- This is the miracle Love wrought for me!