LITMIR.BIZ

      The kiss still burns upon my brow,

      That kiss of long ago,

      When in the flush of love's first hour

      He said he loved me so.

      Another burns yet deeper still,

      The kiss of wedded bliss,

      When soul met soul in rapture sweet —

      Oh, pure love's burning kiss!

      The third was laid away with him,

      A kiss for heaven's day,

      (O heart abide God's way) —

      When in the life beyond earth's change,

      Beyond these mysteries sad and strange,

      New life will spring from out the old,

      New thoughts will larger truth unfold,

      And love have endless sway.

      If I were only sure

      He loves me still,

      As in the realms of beauteous space

      (Alas! so far from my embrace)

      He bides God's will,

      I could be more content to bear

      The bitter anguish and despair

      Which now me fill.

      If I were only sure

      He waits for me

      To join him in the heavenly realm

      (Oh, how the thought does overwhelm)

      When body-free,

      I could the better bear my fate,

      As day by day I learn to wait

      In silent agony.

      O Father, in my doubt

      One thing is sure,

      That Thou, all love, could ne'er destroy

      (Death only is in earth's alloy)

      Such love so pure

      As that which blessed our union here,

      The love which knew no change nor fear —

      Such must endure.

      The days are happy here, dear,

      But happier would they be

      Could'st thou be near to bless me

      With love's sweet ministry;

      Then all this beauty round me

      Would on my memory lie,

      As prayers of sainted mother,

      Or childhood's lullaby.

      Oh! ecstasy rare

      Comes down to share

      The heart that with human love trembles;

      While all on the earth

      Is crowned with new birth

      And everything heaven resembles.

      But grief and despair

      Have latent their share

      In hearts that with human love tremble,

      Since fires of love

      Enkindled above

      In frail earthen vessels assemble.

      Still, ecstasy rare

      Comes down to share

      The heart that with human love trembles;

      While all on the earth

      Is crowned with new birth

      And everything heaven resembles.

      She picks me June roses.

      Were ever such roses?

      Their fragrance would honor

      The heavenly halls.

      She finds me pet pansies.

      Such wondrous-eyed pansies,

      And lovely nasturtiums

      That run on the walls.

      Sweet peas she's now bringing,

      While all the time singing.

      And I? Ask the flowers

      To tell what befalls.

      Would I were beautiful!

      Then you at Beauty's shrine might freely dine,

      A welcome guest

      For joy's bequest.

      But, dear, if this were so, —

      If I were Beauty's child, all undefiled,

      To make you blest

      In beauty's quest,

      You might forget to see

      The soul's pure hidden shrine wherein e'er shine

      The things that test

      Love's true behest.

      Would I were beautiful,

      That you might better see the soul in me!

      That wish is best,

      Is 't not, dearest?

      Oh, the prayer of a dear virgin-heart,

      Breathed forth with true love's gentle art!

      Is there anything purer

      On land or on sea,

      More laden with blessing

      For you or for me?

      It is sweeter than song ever heard,

      More precious than love's spoken word.

      It is fraught with a keen recognition

      Of truest soul-need and fruition.

      Is there anything purer

      On land or on sea,

      More laden with comfort

      For you or for me?

      It is oftentimes born in great pain,

      With no ray of hope's blessed gain.

      But as lulled by the angels at midnight

      Ere reaching the infinite daylight

      Is there anything surer,

      On land or on sea,

      To bring the God-Father

      To you or to me?

      Through all this summer joy and rest,

      Though lying on fair Nature's breast,

      There breathes the longing heart's desire,

      Would he were here!

      The thrill of pain kind Nature feels;

      For all the while there o'er me steals

      Like holy chimes

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