LOVE me, sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing,-
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.
Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.
Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest granting!
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?
Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting.
Love me with thine heart, that all
The neighbours then see beating.
Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely-open-minded.
Love me with thy loitering foot,
Hearing one behind it.
Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur, Love me!
Love me with thy thinking soul—
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll.
On through living-dying.
Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee:
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.
Love me pure, as musers do,
Up the woodlands shady.
Love me gaily, fast, and true,
As a winsome lady.
Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Further off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,—
And for something higher.
Thus, if thou wilt prove me, dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee-half-a-year-
As a man is able.
He listened at the porch that day,
To hear the wheel go on, and on:
And then it stopped-ran back away—
While through the door he brought the sun.
But now my spinning is all done.
He sate beside me, with an oath
That love ne'er ended, once begun.
I smiled-believing for us both,
What was the truth for only one.
And now my spinning is all done.
My mother cursed me that I heard
A young man's wooing as I spun.
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word,—
For I have, since, a harder known:
And now my spinning is all done.
I thought O God!-my first-born's cry
Both voices to mine ear would drown.
I listened in mine agony-
It was the silence made me groan!
And now my spinning is all done.
Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,
(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby's (God it save!)
Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
And now my spinning is all done.
A stone upon my heart and head,
But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,
"This sinner was a loving one-
And now her spinning is all done.'
And let the door ajar remain,
In case he should pass by anon; And leave the wheel out very plain,— That HE, when passing in the sun, May see the spinning is all done.
FIVE months ago, the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the edge.
Ah, sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root. And why, since these be changed since May, Shouldst thou change less than they?
And slow, slow, as the winter snow,
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago,
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.
Ah, sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail,-
It was thy love proved false and frail!
And why, since these be changed enow,
Should I change less than thou?
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