Moods and Tenses (Phases in a Love Drama) - Cycle of Eight Songs

Ah, Faithless! all this winter long
   My pain has been thy pastime;
I loved with heart, and soul, and song,--
Thine all the sport, mine all the wrong, --
   Beware! it is the last time.
          For now I know thee.  Thou would'st fain
          Thyself undo the darling chain,
          And cast me on the world again,
               A lonely man, to-morrow!
          But no! I swear that must not be!
          Thou can'st not, if thou would'st, be free!
          Ah! faithless, heartless, thou shalt see
               What strength despair can borrow;
   For, be it well, or be it ill,
   I feel that I must love thee still,
               Through scorn, and pain, and sorrow!
 
Ah, Cruel! though my love were shown
   In strangely silent fashion,
Thou could'st have guessed it -- thou alone!
In every look and every tone
   That told the tale of passion!
          Alas! had I more boldly woo'd,
          Had I with fiery vows pursued,
          Ah! then, perchance, I had subdued
             And made thee mine forever!
          But, by the bitter fate that drove me,
          By every star that shines above me,
          I swear that I will make thee love me
            Despite thine own endeavour!
   Nor life nor death shall set thee free;
   And neither Heav'n, nor earth, nor sea,
            Thy life and mine shall sever!

Because thy heart to mine
Spokewith a call divine,
I did not question it, nor wait to know
That it was wise to give surrender so,
But down beneath thy feet I laid me low.
I did not wait to find
That thou wert loving, generous and kind,
That love for thee would bring delight or woe,
But, from within me or above,
The mandate came to love thee, and I love!

As the buds look up
  In a hushed surprise,
When Spring steps down
  From the wint'ry skies,
My life awoke
  When I felt your eyes.
 
As a spirit strayed
  In the void of space,
That a seraph leads
  To its long lost place,
My heart went home
  When I knew your face.
 
Arise, O Love,
  Let thy soul meet mine,
Let us quaff the chalice
  Of Life's rich wine;
Let the sun, the stars,
  On our faces shine.
 
With a wreath of joys
  Let us crown the years,
With a shield of smiles
  Let us conquer fears,
Ere Time's hand give us
  The bowl of tears.
 
What can I do
  That am but thy thrall,
What word of mine
  On thine ear should fall,
What can I give thee,
  Thou, that art my all?

Oh! to relive that eve in the early summer!
By the river's bank we strayed,
Watched the sunset pale and fade,
Then, as the stars softly glimmering shone,
Long time we lingered, silent, alone.
Oh! blissful hour of peace and rest,
Divinely calm, serenely blest.
 
No more estranged, no more apart,
Soul spoke to soul, and heart to heart;
Mine was that hour, and yet, alas!
No words would come, I let it pass.
Oh! to relive that eve in the early summer!
Its joy, its pain, are with me yet,
I mourn it, with a life's regret!

                            1
All the phantoms of the future, all the spectres of the past,
In the wakeful night came round me sighing, crying, "Fool, beware!
Check the feeling o'er thee stealing! Let thy first love be thy last!
Or, if love again thou must, at least this fatal love forbear!"
           ... 
 
                            2
Now the dark breaks. Now the lark wakes. Now those voices fleet away.
And the breeze about the blossom, and the ripple on the reed,
And the beams, and buds, and birds begin to whisper, sing, or say,
"Love her, love her, for she loves thee!" And I know not which to heed.
           ... 

No more this bitter torture shall be borne,
No more my life be crushed by fear of scorn,
My Fate I'll know, despair shall make me bold,
This very moment shall my love be told.
 
What do I read in this old writer's page?
A phrase that speaks to me from out a far-off age,
"He either fears his fate too much,
  Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,
  And win, or lose it all."

Is it true? or am I only dreaming?
I hold her letter, blurred with her tears,
She tells me all her hopes and fears,
Calls me to hear her own lips tell
All the love her pride concealed too well;
     For she loves me.
Hasten, oh night! away,
Melt into the crowning day,
When I shall hold her close and fast,
My love, my own at last,
     For she loves me!

Awake, my heart, to be loved,  ... 
The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,
It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake
Th'o'ertaken moon. Awake, my heart, to be loved! awake!

She too that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee:
Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee,
Already they watch the path thy feet shall take:
Awake, my heart, to be loved,  ... , awake!

 ... 

Lo all things wake and tarry and look for thee:
She looketh and saith, 'O sun, now bring him to me.
Come more adored,  ...  for his coming's sake,
And awake my heart to be loved:  ...  awake!'

Awake, the land is scattered with light, and see,
Uncanopied sleep is flying from lake and field and tree;
And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!

 ...