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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Harriet Monroe

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Love Songs

Harriet Monroe

I
I LOVE my life, but not too well

To give it to thee like a flower,

So it may pleasure thee to dwell

Deep in its perfume but an hour.

I love my life, but not too well.

I love my life, but not too well

To sing it note by note away,

So to thy soul the song may tell

The beauty of the desolate day.

I love my life, but not too well.

I love my life, but not too well

To cast it like a cloak on thine,

Against the storms that sound and swell

Between thy lonely heart and mine.

I love my life, but not too well.

II
Your love is like a blue blue wave

The little rainbows play in.

Your love is like a mountain cave

Cool shadows darkly stay in.

It thrills me like great gales at war,

It soothes like softest singing.

It bears me where clear rivers are,

With reeds and rushes swinging;

Or out to pearly shores afar

Where temple bells are ringing.

III
And is it pain to you

That we must love and part?

Ah, if you only knew

The gladness in my heart!

Love is enough. Each day

I look upon the sun,

He loves me! I shall say,

Now is my life begun.

He loves me! Every night,

On the dark verge of sleep

The rapture will alight

And to my bosom creep.

Peace, for I should not dare

A keener joy implore.

My soul shall feel no care—

Until you love no more.