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VI.

LOVE'S POWER.

Life had no God-light—earth no glory till I heard the footsteps of thy Soul, and felt Thine eyes on me like tropic sunbeams melt, Infusing warmth through all my frame—a thrill Of fire, that banished cold, and ice, and chill; Then beauty on the face of all things dwelt, And folding up its hands my spirit knelt, Drinking of omnipresent love its fill. My senses of the weight of clay were purged, Till I could peer o'er in the spirit-world On countless souls alit with pinions furled, Giving me gaze for gaze. With becks they urged Me to o'erstep the bounds 'tween Life and Death, Drawing me towards them till soul took away my breath. VII.

LOVE'S ANGELHOOD.

I Never felt my angelhood till thou, Beloved Adhemar, bent thine eyes on me; I never felt my soul's divinity, And all its strength of pinion until now. Thou'st taught it, like a new-fledged bird to soar Out on the borders of the aerial shore Beyond the realm of storm, and sleet, and snow; And poise with thee upon heaven's starry brow. Arm locked in arm—wing lapping over wing— Lip pressed to lip in sensuous, soft embrace, Our spirits float illimitable space. Sweeping the worlds of high imagining. Drinking of beauty—love from wells divine, Until they all forget that spirits can untwine.

VIII.

LOVE'S CONSTANCY.

Whilom I wept, but they were tears of woe— And now I weep, but they are tears of bliss, Such as from Angels' eyes fall when they kiss In Heaven, and thrill with an ecstatic glow. For thee, beloved Adhemar, sweet tears flow, When I remember all thy great love is, And how it brought me out of grief's abyss Into a port where winds nor tempests blow. As two bright rainbows sit above the clouds, Vested in beauty that all beauty cheers, Serenely smiling through their radiant tears, So sit our souls 'bove all that mist enshrouds; And constant as the twin stars walk the sky Must they thus clasped revolve through Love's eternity IX.

LOVE'S COLOR.

I Can nor tell nor sing the bliss of loving, It is a joy to think of—not to speak, Words, symbols, lyres, seraphic trumpets are too weak To utter its divinity—so proving That silence is its best interpreter. Love never did gain strength through speech or car; If found loquacious, it is plumed for roving, Or lodged in bosoms little worth its moving. All things assume the color of my love, I only see through its prismatic eyes. It vests the stars in hues of Paradise, And clothes the moon in soulshine from above— If sun, moon, stars went out—earth were black night, I could live on and love by Love's celestial light.

X.

LOVE'S LAST SWEET DRAUGHT.

A Week ago to-day, the hours embalmed, Serenely, silently as one that's dead, Upon thy breast I bowed my throbbing head, And down my pulses sank like sails becalmed. My hand was softly folded up in thine, So softly that I did not feel the pressure, And so I lay imbibing without measure, From out the crystal cup of love divine. Stars dawned. The storm of woe aback was driven, In muffled murmurs like a dying dirge. I heard the waves of bliss around me surge, And all the Angels calling me in heaven, When lo! the hand of Reason smote the bowl, And dashed it from the lips of my inebriate soul.

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