You have my heart and know it not, Its every beat is love for you, Each sigh a drop of blood for you, Its ceaseless ache regret for you, And yet you know it not. You have my soul and know it not, It makes you God and worships you, Forgets its claim on Heaven for you, Forsakes its hope of life for you, And yet—you know it not. REMEMBER Remember, sweet! some evening when you sit With idle hands, and book but half read through; When those dear eyes of yours find incomplete The landscape deep in shade and wet with dew; When that clear mind of yours goes wandering out To seek contentment, ay, and finds no rest; When those grave thoughts of yours are filled with doubt, And vague mistrust of all the world deems best; Remember!—for one hour we conquered fate; Filled in the blanks and set the puzzle right; We were complete, a glorious, living whole, A perfect cadence of supreme delight— I think eternity was ours that night. AN ECHO In passion's hour I met you, And now that from my soul I'm old, Whene'er I watch the pale young moon, Or misty glow of sunset gold, Some echo of the past comes back, Like wild, sweet song o'er lonely track Lest I should e'er forget you. FLOWER LOVE "Where is she?" sighed the rose-trees, The honeysuckle creepers, The pansies, and the lilies, And the little hidden flowers. "We are lonely here without her, In the sunlight, in the twilight, In the daytime, in the night-time, Through the solitary hours." "I know not," said the young wind, "Yet will I surely seek her, And whisper low your message Oh faithful-hearted few. For men may kiss in passing, And the world forget its passion, But the soil, remembers ever, And the love of flowers is true." THE FOND LOVER I am but little in your sight, A passing thought, a fleeting light That gone, forgotten lies. The humble pastime, that you chose To honour, as you might a rose, O'er which you cast your eyes. Were I some simple, lifeless thing, A book you read, an oft-worn ring, A favourite flower you wear, I might be close to you and know The rapture and the living glow Of lips, and breast, and hair. But as it is, the earth you press, The clinging texture of your dress, The jewel on your hand Know more of Heaven and joys therein Than I, whose soul has never been Where it could understand. ROSES FALL One by one the roses' petals fall to earth; Though God's sun is still above them, And the ardent breezes love them They must die. Ere their greatest joy is born, Lo! they wither and are gone; Like a rose my hope must perish In a sigh. A FRAGMENT