T H E BOOK OF L OV E

PHIL A DE LPHIA
GE ORGE w .
JA C OB S co
.

pu s HE R S
M H! )

N
 FOR E WORD
F rom the beginning of tim e , L ove has ever
b een the inspir ation of poet r y . Accor ding to
D ryden ,

Lov e first i n ented er se nd f rmed the rhyme

v v , a o ,

Th e m ti n measured harm ni ed the chi me

o o , o z .

A moder n wr iter declar es L ove to be the

despair of philosopher s and sages the r aptur e of ,

poets the confusi on of cynics and the war ri or s

, ,
’

defeat Fur ther mor e it has become the pr e

.
,
,

vailing theme of the novelist Almost ever y stor y .

,

“
nowadays i s a love stor y and the little blind
, ,

d hove s between pages V e i ly ve ily

!

go r th e r r .
, ,

’
Ti s Lov e th at mak es the w o l rd g
o round !
 While many selecti ns in this lume h a e b een
of the o vo v

culled fr m ld bo k s nd stray maga ines s me f them

o o o a z , o o

are fr m c pyrighted w rk s and f permissi n t mak e us

o o o , or o o e

of these th c mpiler rende rs h

e osincere thank s er .

S pec ial ack n w ledgments are du t th e f ll w ing

o e o o o

M ess r s Little Br w n
. C mpany f ,
p em b y William
o o or o

Wetm e S t ry ! M ess rs G P Putnam s S ns f e tracts

or o . . .
’
o or x

fr m Th S pins ter B k
o
“
e b y M yrtle Reed ! M essrs oo ,
.

H ugh t n M i flli n
o o C mpany f
, p ems by Ralph Wald
o or o o

E mers n E dmund C larence S tedman Bayar d Tayl r Alice

o , ,
o ,

C ary Th mas Bai ley Aldrich

, o nd th p em b y James Rus ,
a e o

sell L w ell b eginning Oh spare these fl w ers rep ri nted

o
“
, o ,

b y pe rmissi n fr m The Atl nti M onthly

o o a c .
 C ON TEN T S

WH AT S
’
L OVE ?
TH E S I G N S OF LOVE
LOV E -
M A K IN G

LO V E K ISSE S
’
s

LOVE YOU N DRE AM

’
s G

L OVE -
L E TT E R s
TH E G O D OF LOVE
LOVE DWE L LIN
’
s G

LOV E M A! S
’
s IM

LOV E AN D C H VA
I LR Y

LOV E
’
s S E RE N A nE s

WO M A S LOV N
’
E

MA N ’
S LOVE
IN DE!
Love s a tyr ant and a slave
’
,

A torment and a treasur e ,

H avi ng it we know no peace

, ,

Wanting it no pleasur e
, .

—S elected
.
 PRE L U DE

L ove ca me at dawn when a ll the world w as fair ,

When crimson glor ies bloom and song were

,

r ife !

L ove came at dawn when hop e s wi ngs fanned

’

the air
,

A nd murmur ed I am life
, .

L ove came at eve when the day was done ,

When heart and brain were t ir ed and slumber

pr essed !
L ov e cam e at eve shut out the sinking sun
, ,

“
A n d whisper ed I am r est
, .

C a mpbell.
Tear s ar e C hr istian ki sses P agan
, .

Love is both and each his p r ize

, .

Owen M er edi th
“
.

! R ob er t Bu l w e r Ly tt on .
)
 Tell me what s L ove said Youth one da y
,
’
, , ,

To dr ooping Age who cr ost hi s w a y

, ,

“
It is a s unny hour of play
For which r epentanc e dear doth pa y
R epentance R epentance
A nd t his i s L ove a s wise men say
, .

— Thomas M oor e .
 Ask of me love what i s Love ?
not , ,

A sk what is good of God a b ove !

A sk of the great sun what is br ight
A sk what is dar kness of t he night !
A sk sin of what may be for given !
A sk what is happiness of heaven !
Ask what is folly of the cr owd !
Ask what is fashion of the shr oud
Ask what is sweetness of thy ki ss ,

Ask of thyself what beauty is .

— P hi li
p Ja mee B a i ley .

L ove i s a medley of endearment s j ars , ,

S uspi ci ou s quar r els r econcilements war s

, , , .

— Wi lli am Wl h
a s .

Love i s the occupation of the idle man t he ,

am usement of a busy one and the shipwr eck of

,

a sover eign.

— N apoleon

Boo?
!
 What is L ove ?
Ti s Ob se rvation patience vigilance
’
, , ,

And infinite indulgence L ove is wisdom

.

In tender oper ation ! having no r ights ,

But though a spendthr i ft hour ly growing r icher

, ,

By u nu sor i ou s giving
.

— A lfred A usti n .

It is difficult to define L ove A ll that we can

.

say of it is that in the soul it is a passion for

,

r eigning ! in minds it is a sympathy ! and in the

,

body it is nothing but a latent and delicate de

sir e to possess the loved Ob j ect .

R ochefou ca nld
: .

L ov e
is a capr i ci ous power :I ve known it hold
’

O ut thr ough a fever caused by its own heat !

But be much puzzled by a cough and cold ,

A nd find a quinsy ver y har d to t r eat .

— L or d Byr on .

g oof
 A hea t full of coldness a sweet full of bitter
,

ness a pain full of pleasantness which maketh

, ,

thoughts have eyes and hear ts and ear s !

, ,

by desir e nur sed by delight weaned by j ealousy

, , ,

killed by di ssembling bur ied by ingr atitude ! and

,

this is L ove .

John L yly
-
.

L ove is an alliance of fr iendship and animal

ism ! if the for mer pr edominate it is a passion ex
,

alted and r efined ! but if the latter gross and ,

sensual .

— C ha rles C a leb C olton .

L ove is like a charming r omance which is r ead

with avidity and often with such impatience that
,

many passages a r e skipped to r each the denone

ment sooner .

— Pi erre S lva i n M a r e
y
 The Obsessi no whi ch we call L ove i s an emu
ti on pa st all explanat ion The per sons suscepti
.

it s power a r e a s things beneath a spell .

They see hear and feel that of which the r est of

, ,

their wor ld is unawar e and will r emain unawar e

,

for ever.

—F ra nces H odgson Burnett .

Love is a child that t alks i n br oken language ,

Yet then he speaks most plain .

Love is a golden bubble full of dr eams ,

That waki ng br eaks and fills us with extr emes

,
.

— George C hapman .

L ove, li k e fir e, annot subsist without contin

c

ual movement :so soon a s it ceases to hope and

fear it cea ses to exist
,
.

— R ochefouca u ld .
 L ove i s the golden bead at the bottom of the
cr ucible But love isn t thought or per cept ion
.
’

or even passion in the o r di na r y sense It ’

.
,

knows what ! I give it up But it s a br eath of

’
.

fr esh a ir fr om the highest H eaven br ought some

how i nt o the stuffy cellar of our exist ence It s .
’

the flash of light that str ike s on the wall of the

tunnel our tr ain is passing thr ough and shows us

the bur st of sunshi ne that is coming .

— Wi lli am De M organ .

T rue love is a gift of God .

— S elected .

I t i s the secr et sympathy ,

The silver link the silken t ie

, ,

Which hear t to hear t and mi nd to mind ,

In body and in soul can bind .

— S ir W lt a er S cott .
L oveis a smoke r a is d with the fumes of sighs !
’

Being pu r g d a fire spar kli ng in a lover s eyes !

’ ’

’
v ex d a sea nour ished wi th lover s t ear s :
’
,

What is it else ? a madness most di scr eet ,

A choki ng gall and a pr eservi ng sweet .

— S ha kes ea re
p .

If Tr ue L ove wer e a pear l and I the sea ,

I d keep my j ewel to my bosom p r essed

’

A nd the chance cr aft that bide the wind s decr ee

’

S hould ne e r suspect the secr et at my br east

’
.

I would not cast my wealth with boun ty fr ee

I f T r ue L ove wer e a pearl and I the sea .

But i f some swimmer st ronger than the r est

An d stou t of hea rt should seek my gift of me
, ,

Br inging a wo rld of patience to the quest ,

A nd through my char tless depths unceasingly

H i s purpose follow his the p r ize should be
,

If T ru e L ove wer e a pear l and I the sea .

— S elected .
 A nd L ove s flame is super ior to phys
’

ical law i n that the less ventilation it has the mor e ,

fiercely it bur ns .

— Paul L ei cester F ord .

Though veiled i n spir es of myr tle wr eath -

,

L ove is a swor d which cuts its sheath ,

A nd thr ough the cle fts itself has made ,

We spy the flashes of the blade !

But thr ough the clefts itself ha s made ,

We likewise see Love s fla shing blade

’

By r ust consumed or sna pt in twain

,

A nd only hilt and stum p r emain .

— S a ma el Taylor C oleri dge .

L ove is a r eality is born in the fairy

r egion of r oma nc e .
 L ove is an egoti sm of tw o .

A ntoi ne De S a lle .

L ove i s a sickness full of woes ,

A ll r emedies r efusing !
A plant that most with cutting gr ows ,

M ost barr en with best using .

Why so ?
M or e we enj oy it mor e it dies!
,

I f no t enjoyed it sighing cri es

, ,

H eigh ho ! -

L ove is a torment of the mi nd

A tempest ever lasting
A nd Jove hath made it of a kind ,

N ot well nor full nor fasting

, , .

Why so ?

M or e we enj oy it mor e it dies !

,

I f not enj oyed it sighing cr ies

, ,

H eigh ho ! -

— S a mu el Dani el .
 L ove i s the ar t of hear ts and hear t of ar ts
, .

— P hi li J m es B i le
p a a y .

L ove i s a bi r d that br ea ks its voice with singi ng

L ove i s a r ose blown till it fall !
L ove i s a bee that di es o f i ts ow n stinging
A nd L ove the tinsel cr oss upon a pall .

L ove i s the S ir en t owar ds a quicksand br i nging ,

E nchanted fishermen t h t hear her call

a .

Love is a b r oken hear t — Far ew ell — the wri ng

, ,

i ns
Of dyi ng hands . A h , do not love at all !
— A . M a ry F R obi nson
. .

L ove i s the cr owning grace of humanity the ,

holiest r ight of the soul the golden link which

,

b inds us to duty and t r uth the r edeeming pr in

,

c i le tha t chi efly r e conciles t he he ar t to life and

p ,

i s pr ophet ic of eter nal good .

— Fra ncesco P etra r ch .

 A silver cloud is Love ,

S o they sa y ,

That floats awhile above ,

Then away .

Ah ! well the year s have brought

,

Their fr eight of car e and thought ,

Yet I build in t he clouds to day

- .

— S elected.

In p eace Love tunes the shepher d s r eed !

,
’

In w a r he mounts the war rior s steed !

’

In halls i n gay atti r e is seen !

,

In hamlet s dances on the gr een

, ,

Love r ule s the cour t the camp t he gr ove

, , ,

And m en below and saints above !

,

For L ove i s H eaven and H eaven is L ove

, .

— S ir W lt a er S cott
.

M y love is all in all to m e .

— Geor e E nds
g
 What is L ove that all the wor ld
Talks so much about it ?
What is L ove that neither you
N or I can do without i t ?
L ove s a tyr ant and a slave
’
,

A torment and a tr easur e ,

H avi ng it we kn ow no peac e
, ,

Wanting it no pleasur e
, .

Would we shun it if we could ?

S ooth ! I d almost doubt it
’

Faith ! I d r athe r bear the pain

’

Than live my life without it !

S elected .

The t r uth is that L ove consider ed mer ely as

,

the pr efer ence of one per son for another of the

“
opposite sex is not the greatest thing in the
,

w or ld It becomes gr eat only when it leads on

!
. ,

as it often does to her oism and self sa cr i fice and

,
-

— H enry va n Dyk e
.
Tru e love is the cu lmina tion of happiness .

S elected
.

I asked the sun ,

C anst t ell me what is ? L ove

H e a nswer ed only b y a smile
O f golden light .

I pr ayed the flower s ,

O h ! tell me what is L ove ?

O nly a fr agr ant sigh was wafted
Thr ough the night .

Is L ove the soul s tr ue life ’

Or is it but the spor t

O f idle hour s ? I asked
Of H eaven above !
In answer God sent thee ,

S weethear t to me
, ,

A nd I no longe r question
What is Love .
What is a fir st love wor th except to pr epar e
, for
a second ?

at does the second love br ing ? O nly a re

gre t for the first

— John H ay
.

’
Be other br ows by plea sur e s wr eath
Or glory s cor onal app r essed
’

To me the humblest flower seems best ,

S ome sweet wild bloom with dews still wet .

S o L ove but kiss a violet

, ,

0 L ove but ki ss a Violet

, ,

A nd fling it to my br east !
— Gr a ce Greenwood
'
.

L ove !the br ead and wine of life the hunger ,

and the thir st the hur t and the healing the only
, ,

wound which i s cur ed by another ! The guest

w ho comes like a t hi ef i n the night ! The eter nal
question which i s i ts ow n answer the thing whi ch,

has no beginning and no end !

—M r tle R eed
y .
H ow can I tell the signals and signs
the
By which one heart another heart divines ?
H ow ca n I tell the many thousand way s
By wh ich it keeps the secret it betrays ?
W dsw
a or th L ongfellow .
Why so pale and wan , fond lover ?
Pryt hee w hy so pale ?
,

Will when looki ng well can t move her

,
’

L ooking ill pr evail?

P ryt hee w hy so pale ?
,

Why so dull and mute young sinner ?

,

Pr ythee why so mute ?

,

Will when speaking well can t win her

,
’

S aying nothi ng do t ?
’

Pr ythee w hy so mute ?
,

! uit,q ui t,for sh am e ! t his will not move ,

This cannot take her !

If of her self she will not love ,

Nothing can make her

The D 1 take her !
—

— S i r John S uckli ng .
 The sign of those w ho a re tormented by love s ’

passion is tear s ! above all of that lover w ho

, ,

finds none to sympathi ze with him .

—J ohn P B r own . .

R osa li nd There is none of my uncle s marks ’

.

up on you :he t aught me how to k now a man in

love.

Orla ndo Wh at wer e his ma rks ?

.

R osa li nd A lean cheek which you have not !

.
,

a blue eye a nd sunken which you have not ! an

,

unquestionable spirit which you h ave not ! a

,

bear d neglected which you have not !

,

th en your hose should be ungarte r ed ! your bon

net unbanded your sleeve unbuttoned your sho e
, ,

nti ed and everything about you demonstr ating

a car eless desolation ! but you are no such man !

you are r ather point device in your accout r e
-

ments as loving your self than seeming the lover

,

other .
— S h kes ea re a p .
 The male bir d puts on his bright est plumage
i n the spring and the ma n of our species i s no
,

le ss wise when he set s out to w oo .

a y Di llon
- M r
.

The moods of love a r e like the w ind

A nd none know whence or why they rise .

— C oventr P a tmor e
y .

L ove comes to some with smili ng eyes ,

And comes with tear s to some !

For some L ove sings for some L ove sighs
, ,

For some L ove s lips are dumb

’
.

— P a kenha m Bea tt
y .

I t is di fficult t o k now at what moment L ove

begins i t is less difficult t o know that it has
—

— H enry W dsw
a or th L ongfell
H ow wi ll you know when Love appear s ?
This is a question asked of me .

But it is r ather har d to say

Just wha t the answer ough t to be !

When Cupid ente s i n the heart

r ,

H e has so many ways t o go !

Just how h e will p r esent himself
Is often ver y har d to know .

When loving souls come face to face ,

The mantling blushes cr eep in cheeks .

O ft mor e than tongue with tender wor ds

, ,

The rosy t ell tale color speaks

-
.

S ometimes love comes a s a sur pr ise ,

’
When you ne er dr eam that it i s near ,

S ome little act its p r esence shows

, ,

A nd all at once its voice you hear

,
.

— M a r tha S hepa rd L i ppi ncott .

 U nless you thi nk when the song i s done
ca n , ,

No other is soft in the rhythm !

U nless you can feel when left by O ne
, ,

That a ll men else go with him !

Unless you ca n know when upr aised by his
,

breath ,

That your beauty itself want s p r ovi ng

“
U nless you can swear For life for death !
, ,

O h fear t o call it loving

, .

-
E li za beth Ba rr ett Browni ng .

N one ever loved but at fir st sight they loved .

George C hapma n .

N O sooner met but they looked ! no sooner

,

looked but they loved ! no soone r loved but they

, ,

sighed ! no soone r sighed but they asked one a n

,

other the r eason .

— S ha kespe
 M y soul I bid thee answe r
, ,

H ow a r e L ove s marvels wrought ?

’ !

Two hearts to one heart beating ,

Tw o spir its with one thought

!
.

A nd tell
me how L ove cometh
It comes unsought unsent , .
!

Then tell me how L ove goeth

I t was not L ove that went .

— S elected
.

O nly in b ooks seldom or never in r eal life

, ,

do youths and maidens dash into the R omeo and -

Juliet passion of the inst ant Nowadays people

.

— e ven young people — r ar el fa ll in love they

!
y !
walk into it deliberately and open eyed or slip -
,

i nto it gr adually unawares

, .

—Di na h M ulock C rai k .

They may t alk of love in a cottage ,

A nd bowe r s of trellised vine ,

O f natur e bewitchingly simple ,

A nd mi lk maids half divine .

B ut give me a sly flirtation ,

By the light of the chandelier

Wi th music to play i n the pauses ,

And nobody ver y near .

— N a tha ni el Pa r ker Wi llis .

We pause and your waist releasing

, ,

We stand and b r eathe for a while !

A nd your face a fir e with a sweet desir e
, ,

You look in m y eyes and smile .

We scarcely can speak for panting ,

B ut I lean to you and say ,

Ah ! who my love can r esist you

, ,
?

You have waltzed my heart away .

Wi lli a m W tm e or e S tory .
 Love ! what a VOIlHIle i n a word ! an ocea n i n a
tear ! A seventh heaven in a glance ! a whirlwind
—
in a sigh ! The lightning in a touch a millen
nium i n a moment !
— M ar ti n Fa rquha r Tupper .

Fact s and figures can to a certain ext ent be

, ,

relied on but the fluctuating humour s and v a

,

gar ies of a man and woman in love with each

other are beyond the most precise calculations of
the skilled mathematician For it often hap
.

p ens tha t when they seem to be c o ldest t hey are ,

war mest and cases have been known wher e

—

they have taken the greatest pains to avoid each

other at a time when they have most deeply
longed t o be always together .

M a ri e C or elli .

Not much talk , a gr eat sweet silence

,
.

H enry Ja mes
-
O h ! he was stud ent of mystic lor e
a .

A nd she w a s a soulful gir l ,

All ner ves and mi nd o f the cultur ed ki nd, ,

Th e par agon pride and pear l , , .

They loved with a neo Concor di c love -

,

Woofed weir dly with wistful w oe .

They sat in a glen remote fr om men , ,

Thei r conver se w as hi gh and low .

What ma vellous wor ds of marvellous

r L ove
S peak mar vellous souls lik e these ?
!

I dr ew me nigh till their faintest sigh

Was hear d with the gr ea test ease .

’
O o s i ttle white lammy i s oo br eathed he !
’ ’ ’

C or s O o s lovey dovey is OO
’ ’ ’ ’
.
-

C or s ! Oor s! Would oo k y i f dovey

’ ’ ’

should die ? !

N o p l t ause 1ttle lamm y die too

’
— .
 H ow tr uthful w e poet s ! the language of

L ove
!

Is aphr ase we employ full oft

B ut whenever we do we prefix thereto
, ,

“
You ve noticed the adj ective so ft
’

, .
!

George A Ba ker Jr . , .

S ilenc e i n L ove
bewr ays mor e w oe
Than words however wi tty
, ,

A beggar that is dum b you know , ,

M ay challenge double pi ty .

— S ir W lte
a r R a lei gh .

L ove deli ghts in paradoxes ! saddest when it

has most r eason t o b e gay ! sighs ar e the signs of
its deepest j oy ! and silence is the expr ession of its
year ning tenderness .

—C . N estelle Bovee .
Because I breathe not L ove to ev er i e one ,

N or do not use set colour s for t o weare ,

N or nour ish special locks of vowed hair e ,

N or give each speech a full point of a gr oa ne ,

The co urtli e nymphs acquainted with the moa ne

,

’
O f them w ho on their lips L ove s st andard
bear e ,

What he say they of me ! now I dar e

,

sw ea r e

H e can not love : No, no ! let hi m alone .

A nd think still i f S tella know my minde

so ,
-
.

Pr ofess indeed I do not C upid s art !

, ,
’

Bu t you faire maids at length this t rue shall

, ,

finde,
That his right badge is but w or ne in the hea rte .

Dumb swans not chattering pies do lovers

, ,

p r ove :
They love indeed who q uake to say they love .

—S i r P hi li S idne
p y .
L ove culmi nates in bliss when it doth r each
A wh ite u nfli ck er i ng fea r consuming glow !
, ,
-

And knowing it is known as it doth know

, , ,

N eeds no assuring word or soothing speech .

It craves but silent near ness so to r est

, ,

N O sound no movement L ove not hear d but

, ,

felt,

L onge r and longer still ti ll time should m el t

, ,

A snowflake on the eternal ocean s breast ’

.

— F ra nces R . H a vergal .

Jealousy is the for erunne r of L ove , and of ten

its awakener .

—F . M a ri on C r a wford .

L ove may exist without j ealousy although ,

this is r ar e :but j ealousy may exist without L ove ,

and this is comm on ! for j ealousy can feed on that

which is b i tter no less than on that which i s sw eet ,

and is sustained by p r ide as often as by affection .

— C ha r les C a leb C olton .

 I t is j ealousy s peculiar natur e
’

To swell small things to great nay out of nought

, ,

To conj ur e much ! and then to lose its r eason

A mid the hideous phantoms i t ha s form d
’
.

E dwa rd Young
'
-
.

Women detest a j ealous man whom they do not

love but it angers them when a man they do love
,

i s not j ealous at times .

M lle de S cu déry
. .

Jealousy is said to be the O ffspring of L ove .

Yet unless the parent makes haste to strangle the

child the child will not r est till it hath poisoned
,

the parent !
— J C
. . an dA . WH . ar e
.

O,
bewar e my lor d of j ealousy
, ,

It is the green eyed monster which doth mock

-

The meat it feeds on .

— S hakespcar e .
L ove —
mak ing how simple a
-
,

depths to explore ,

No heights i n a life to a scend! N o di shear tening

befor e,

No affr ighting H er eaft er Love now will be

—
,

love evermor e ,

“
S o I felt To keep silence wer e folly a ll lan

ua
g g e above ,I mad e love .

— R obert Browni n
g
.
 H ow s your father ? came the whisper ,
’ !

B ashful Ned the silence br eak i ng !

Oh he s ni cely Ann ie mu rmur ed
’ !
, , ,

S mi lingly the question tak ing .

C onver sati on
flagged a moment ,

H opeless Ned essayed anoth er !

,

Annie I I then a coughing

—
, , ,

And the quest ion H ow s your mother ?

“
,
’

M other ? he s doing finely !

O h, s
’

Fleeting fast was all forbearance ,

When in low despairing accents

, ,

C ame the cli max H ow s your par ents ?

“ ’ !
,

-
S elected .

N o man ever yet failed t o make love fr om ig

nor a nce how t o begin .

—E den Phi llpots .

 Do you love me ? !

The old question r ang clear in the still a i r .

Who has not hear d of women o r utter ed it of

—

men ?
O ften so easy sometim es so hard
, .

—A nthon
y H ope
.

L ove scenes if genuine a r e indescribable ! for

, ,

to those who have enacted them the most elab,

or ate descr iption seems tame and to those who

,

have not the sim plest pictu r e seems over done

, .

S o r omancers had bette r let im agination paint

for them that which is above all a rt and leave ,

lover s to themselves dur ing the happiest minutes

of their lives.

— L ou i sa M A lcott. .

A yni c ha s defined courtship as A period of

c ,

varying length passed by a man and a woman in

,

trying to deceive one another .

!

— A nonymou s .
In j oyous youth what soul hath never k nown
,

Thought feeling taste harmonious to his own ?

, , ,

Who hath not paused while Beauty s pensive eye ’

A sk d from his heart the homage of a sigh

’
?

Who hath not ow n d with raptur e smitten frame

’
,
-
,

The power of gr ace the magic of a name ?

,

-
Thomas C a mpbell .

It is said that no two lover s a r e equal shar ers

in affection o ne always gives more than the
—

other or one expects more than the other

-
.

-
H a mli n Ga r la nd .

S omebody s courting somebody

’
,

S omewher e or other to night ! -

S omebody s whisper ing to somebody

’

S omebody s listening to somebody

’
,

Under this clear moonlight !

Two or thr ee dears and one or two sweets !
,

Two or thr ee balls an d two or three treats !

,

Two or t hr ee serenades given as a lur e !

,

Two or thr ee oaths how much they endure !

,

Two or thr ee mes sages sent in one day !

Two or thr ee times led out from the play !
Two or thr ee soft speeches made by the way !
Two or three tickets for two or thr ee times !
Two or thr ee letters wr it in all rhymes !
Two or thr ee months keeping str ict to these rules ,

C a n never fail mak ing a couple of fools .

— Jona tha n S w i f t
.

The accepted and betrothed lover has lost the

wildest charms of his maiden i n her acceptance
of him ! she was heaven whilst he pursued her as
—
a star she cannot be heaven if she stoops to such
a one as he.

— R a lph W ld
a o E mer son.
 C our ting is li ke 2 little spri ngs ov soft water
that steal out from under a r ock at the fut ov a
mountain and r un down the hill side by side
, ,

singing and dancing and spa ter ing each other ,

eddying and frothing and k a sk a di ng now hiding

,

unde r bank now full ov sun and now f ull OV

, ,

sha dder t ill bimeby tha j ine and then tha go

,

slow .

Josh Billi ngs .

! H enr
y Wh e eler S ha w .
)

B eware the woma n w ho de sir es to be co urted

of

by mor e than one m a n .

— S elected .

There is somethi ng knightly i n kneelin g By .

the act alone more is exp r e ssed th an i n a sto rm of

—
words br ute force subjected pride broken
, ,

strong will over whelmed by the light in a w oman s ’

eyes .
 H e either fear s hi s fate too much ,

Or
his desert too small ,

Who fear s to put it to the touch ,

And win or lose it a ll .

— M a r qui s of M ontr ose .

L ove, see thy lover humbled at thy feet ,

N ot in servility but homage sweet

, ,

Gladly inclined — and with my bended knee

Think that my inward spirit bows to thee
M or e proud indeed than when I stand or climb
E lsewhere .There is no statue so sublime
A s L ove s in all the wor ld and e en to k iss
’ ’
,

The pedestal is still a better bliss

Than a ll ambitions O L ove s lowest base
.
,
’

Is far above the r eachi ng of disgrace

To shame this posture ! L et me then dr aw nigh
F eet that have fared so nearly to the sky ,

A nd when this duteous homage has b een given ,

r ise up and clasp t he hear t in heaven

 T he iolet loves a sunny bank
V ,

The cowslip loves the lea ,

The scar let creeper s love the elm ,

But I love thee

— .

The sunshine kisses mount and vale ,

The star s they kiss the sea ,

The west winds kiss the clover blooms ,

But I kis s thee

— .

The ori ole weds his mottled mat e ,

The lily s bride of the bee !

’

H eaven s marr iage r ing is r ound the earth

’
,

S hall I wed thee ?

— Bayar d Taylor .

A pr essing lover seldom want s success ,

Whi lst the r espectful like the Greek sits down

, ,

And wa stes a ten years siege b efor e one town

’
.
S un omes moon comes
c , ,

Time sli p s away ,

S un sets moon sets , ,

!
Love fix a day, .

A year hence a year h ence ,

“
We shall both be gr ay .

A month hence a month hence , .

“ !
Far fa r away
, .

Aweek hence a week hence , .

“
Ah the long delay
, .
!

Wait a little wait a li ttle, ,

You shall fix a day .

!

To morr ow love to morrow

-
, ,
-
,

And that s an age away’

.
!

Blaze upon the w m dow sun , ,

A nd honour all the day .

— A lfr ed Tennyso
When I send you a r ed red r ose
, ,

The sweetest flower on earth th at grows ,

Thi nk dear hear t how I love thee !

, ,

L isten to what the sweet r ose saith ,

With her crimson leaf and her fr agr ant br eath ,

L ove I am thine in li fe a nd death !

, ,

0 my L ove dost t hou love me ?

,

— F ri edri ch B u chert .

The red r ose whispers of passion ,

And the white r ose breathes of L ove !

Ah the r ed r ose i s a falcon
, ,

A nd the whit e r ose is a dove .

Bu t I send you a cr eam white rosebud

-
,

With a flush on i ts petal tips !

F or the L ove that is purest and sweetest
H as a kiss of desir e on the lip s .

— John B oyle O R ei lly

’
.
 C asual disagr eements have b een consi der ed as
sp r ings that give new for ce to L ove ! and I be
lieve they a r e so ! yet as a
or too for cibly u sed remains at the place to which
,

it is drawn back instead of flying forward so ,

lover s will find that disagreements if they

, ,

too fr e quent w ill at length lose their elasticity

,

and impel to L ove no mor e .

—
Fu lhe Grevi lle .

Ther e is no sweetness in lover s quar r els that

’

compensates the sting .

— E dwa r d Bulwer L y tton .

S O L ove
does raine
In stoutest minds and maketh monstrous Warr e
,

H e maketh warre :he maketh P eace agai ne ,

And yet his P eace is but continual! Jar r e :

O h miser able men that to him subj ect arr e !
,

— E dmund S p
‘
 Ther e is no calamity in li fe that falls heavi er
upon human natur e than a disappointment in
L ove ! especially when it ha ppens between tw o
per sons whose hearts a r e mutually engaged t o
each other It i s this distr ess which has given oc
.

casion to som e of the finest t r a edies that wer e

g
ever wr itten ! and daily fills the world with m el
a nch ol
y di
, scont en t
, fr enz
y si,
ckness despai r,a nd
death .

— Sir Ri cha rd S teele .

L ove i s exactly like w a r in this that a soldier

—
,

though he has escaped thr ee weeks complete on

S atu r day night may nevertheless be shot
, , ,

thr ough his heart on S unday morning .

— L a wr ence S terne .

The meeting was bli ss but the parting was w oe !

,

For the moment will come when such comer s

mu st go !
— Thomas H ood .
What ! K eep a week away ? S even days and

ni

E ightscor e eight hour s ? and lover s absent hour s

’
,

M ore t edious than the di al eightsco r e times ?

,

0 weary r eck ni ng !
’

— S hakespeare .

A las , how easily things go wr ong !

A sigh too much or a kiss too long
, ,

And there follows a mist and a w eeping r ain ,

And li fe is never the same again .

Alas , how har dly thi ngs go r ight !

Tis har d to w atch i n a S umm er night
’

For the sigh will come and the kiss will stay ,

And the S umm er night is a Wint e r day .

— George M a cdona ld .
 H a d we never loved kindly
sa e ,

H a d we never loved sa e blindly ,

Never met or never parted ,

We had ne er been broken hearted !

’
-

— R ober t Bu rns .

The L or d watch between me and thee when ,

we are absent one from another .

!

— Genesi s mwai 49 , .

I kissed your lips and held your hands ,

“
And said Far ewell and went away
, ,
!
,

Well knowing that another day

Would speed you forth to other lands .

And down the summer scented str eet

-

I hear d your echoing voice r epeat

The H ebr ew motto quaint and sweet
,

“
M izpah .
!

— H omer Gr eene .
T ell m e who fir st did kisse s suggest ?
It was a mouth all glowing and blest !
I t kissed and it thought of nothing beside.

The fair month of M a y was then in its pride ,

The flowers wer e all from the earth fast spring

ing
,

The sun w a s laughing the bir ds were singing

,
.

— H ei nri ch H ei ne .
 O f ki ssing wr ites S teele
, Tis certain
’

that N ature was i ts author and that it began

,

with the fir st cour tship.

!

S ee the mountains kiss high heaven ,

A nd the wave s clasp one another !

N O sister flower would be forgiven
I f i t di sdained i ts br other :
A nd the sunlight clasps the ea rth ,

A nd the moonbeams kiss the sea ,

What a re all these k i ssi ngs worth ,

If thou kis s not me ?

—P er c B sshe S helle
y y y .

A kiss on the hair is the kis s of a poet ! tender

nes s i s i mplied when the li ps pres s the eyelids !
rever ence is spoken when the brow is caressed !
and p r otecting love when the cheek is impear led
, .

A stolen ki ss is at best only half a kiss

 The gr eatest sin twixt heaven and hell
’

I s fir st to kiss and then to tell

, .

— S elected
.

A k iss by any other n ame wouldn t rhyme with ’

t S '

— S elected
.

H ow many kisses do I ask ?

N ow you set me to my task .

First sweet A nn e will you tell m e

, ,

H ow many waves a r e in the sea ?

H ow many stars ar e in the sky ?
H OW many lovers you make sigh ?
H ow many sands are on the shore ?
I shall want j ust one ki ss more .

— Wi lli a m M ad w ell
'
.

What is a ki sse ? Why this a s some appr ove

,

The sure sweet cement glue and lime Of L ove

, , , .

— R ober t H err i ck .
 time he k i ssed me b e but only ki ssed
Fir st ,

The finger s o f this hand wher ewith I wr ite !

And ever since it gr ew mor e clean a nd

S low towor ld g tings - r ee qui ck wi th its

“
Ah list
, ,
!

When the angels speak A r ing of amethyst .

I could not wear her e plainer to my sight

,

Than that fir st kiss The second passed in.

The first and sought the forehead and half

, ,

missed ,

H alf falling on the hair 0 beyond meed ! .

That was the chrism of L ove which L ove s own ,

’

cr own ,

With sanctifying sweetness did pr ecede , .

The thir d upon my lips was folded down

In per fect pur ple state ! since when i ndeed
, , ,

I have been proud and said M y L ove my ow n

“
, , .

E li za beth B ar r ett Bro

'
-
 A k iss is the r aptur e of bliss the messenger of
,

L ove the cable Of the heart an indescribable

, , ,

transcendent magical something that is at once

, ,

a feast and an insatiable famine .

— H enry F r ederi c R edda ll .

S leeping, I dreamed that thou wast mine ,

In some amb r osial lover s shr ine

’
.

M y li ps against thy li ps were pressed ,

And all our passion was confessed

S O near and dear my darling seemed ,

I knew not that I only dreamed .

Waking this mid and moonlight night

, ,

I clasp thee close by lover s right

,
’
.

Thou fea r est not my warm embrace !

And yet so li ke the dream thy face
And kisses I but half partake
,

The j oy and know not if I wake

,
When age chi lls the b lood when our pleasur es
,

a r e past

For years fleet away with the wings of the

dove
T he dearest remembrance will still be the last ,

O ur sweetest memor ial the first kiss of L ove .

— L or d Byr on .

What is a kiss ? Alack e ! at worst ,

A single dropp to quenche a thir st ,

Tho oft it pr oov es in ha ppi e hour

’
, ,

The fir st swete dropp of one long show r e .

— C ha rles Godfr ey L ela nd .

Gi ve me a k i sse and to that ki sse a score !

,

Then to that twenty adde a hundr ed more !

,

A thousand to that hundr ed ! so kiss on ,

To make that thousand up a mi lli on !

Treble that mi llion and when that is done
, ,

L et s ki ss afr e sh a s when we first begun

’
.
,

— R ob er t H
For giveme but I needs must pr ess
,

O ne question since I love you so !

,

And kiss me darling i f i t s Yes ,

’
,

And dar ling kiss me if it s N O !

, ,
’

It is a bout our marriage day

I fain would have it even her e !
But k iss me if it s fa r away
’

A nd dar ling kis s me if it s near !

’
, ,

A h,by the blushes crowding so

Oncheek and brow tis near I guess !
’
, ,

B ut dar ling kis s m

, , e if i t s N O
’
,

A nd k iss me darling i f i t s Yes !

’
, ,

And have you sewed your w edding dr ess?

Nay speak not even to whisper low !
, ,

’
Bu t kiss me dar ling i f it s Yes
, , ,

And dar ling kiss me i f i t s No !

, ,
’

— A li ce C a ry .
 H er lips were so near
—
That what else could I do ?
You ll be angry I fear
’

, ,

Bu t her lips were so near

Well I can t make it clear
,
’
,

Or explain it t o you ,

—
B ut her lips were so near
—
That what else could I do ?
— W lt a er L ea rned
.

H ow sad if by some strange new law

, ,

A ll kisses
scarred !
For she who is most beautiful
Would be most marr ed .

And w e might be sur pri sed to see

S ome lovely wife
S mooth visaged while a seeming prude
-
,

Was mar ked for life .

A nne R eeve A ldri ch .

 Thou knowest the maiden who ventur es to k iss
a sleeping man wins Of him a pair of gloves
, .

— S ir W lta er S cott
.

Jenny ki ssed me when we met ,

Jumping from the chair she sat in .

Time you thief ! who love to get

,

S weets into you r list put that in

, ,

S a y I m weary and I m sad !

’ ’

S a y that health and wealth have missed

‘

me !
S a y I m gr owing old but add
’
,

Jenny ki s sed m e .

— L ei gh H unt .

The Fath er in confession R ose , ,

Won t count that love a sin

’

That with a kiss taps at the hear t

A n lets an angel in
’
.

— M a la chy R ya n .
 S ome tha t ki ssi ng s a sin !
’
sa y

Bu t I thi nk it s nane ava

’
,

For kissing has woun d i n thi s wor ld

’

S ince ever there wer e twa .

O ! if it wasna lawful ,

L awyers wadna allow i t !

If it wasna h oly,

M inister s wadna do i t !
If it wasna modest ,

M aidens wadna take i t !

I f i t wasna plenty ,

P oor folks wadn a get it .

A nonymous
.

Then pr ess my lips ! where plays a flame of bliss

A pur e and holy love light and for sake
- —

The angel for the woman in a kiss ,

At once I wis ,

M y soul will wake .

Vi ctor H ugo.
C H AP T E R F I VE
’
LOVE s YOU N G DREAM
O the days ar e
g one when beauty b
, r ight
M y hear t s chain wove !
’

When my dr eam of life from morn till night

, ,

Was L ove still Love , .

New hope may bloom ,

A nd days may come ,

O f milder calmer beam !

,

But ther e s nothing half so sweet in life

’

A s L ove s young dr eam

’
.

— Thomas
 O h ! what without our Youth
Would Love be ? What would Youth be
without L ove ?

Youth lends its j oys and sweetness passion , ,

truth ,

H ear t soul and all that seems us from

, ,

above .

—L ord Byr on .

In ever y well conditioned str ipling as I con

-
,

j ectu r e there
, always blooms a p r ospe ctive P a r a
dise cheered by some fairest E ve ! nor in the
,

stately vistas and flow er a ge and foliage of that

gar den is a tree of Knowledge beautiful and,

awful in the midst ther eof wanting P erhaps

,
.
,

too the whole is but the lovelier if cherubim and

,

a flaming sword divided it from all footsteps of

men and grant him the imaginative stripling
, , ,

only the View not the ent r ance

, .

Thomas C a r lyle .
 For though the celestial r aptur e falling out
of heaven sei zes only upon those of tende r age ,

and although a beauty over power ing all analysis

or compar ison and putting us quit e beside our

selves we can seldom see after thir ty year s yet ,

the r emembr ance of these Visions outlasts all

other r emembr ances and is a wr eath of flower s
,

on the oldest brows .

— R a lph W ld
a o E merson .

“
I m sor ry that I spell d the word
’ ’

I hate to go above you ,

Because the brown eyes lower fell

!
, ,

Because you see I love you

, ,

— J ohn Gr eenlea f Whi tti er .

This w a s b oy and gir l love calf love perhaps, , ,

though even that may develop into somethi ng

lar ger tr uer and finer
, , .

— K a te Dougla s Wiggi n .
 A youth s love is the more passionate !
’

A Virgin s love is the more idolatrous

’
.

— J C H a re
. . .

The lover s delight in endear ments in avowals ,

of L ove in comparison of their r egards When

, .

alone they solace themselves with the r emem

,

bered image of the other Does that other see

.

the same star the same melting cloud r ead the

, ,

same book feel the same emotion that now de

,

li ghts me ?
R a lph W lda o E mer son .

I saw them ki ssing in the sh ade and knew the

sum of all my lor e

God gave them Youth God gave them L ove and

, ,

even God can give no more .

— F reder i c R i dgely Tor r ence .

Im par a di s d in one another s arms

’ ’
.

— John M i lton .
 the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the
r obin s br east !
’

the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself

another cr est !
the spr ing a livelier iri s changes on the
bur ni sh d dove !
’

the spring a young man s fancy lightly turns

’

to thoughts of L ove
.

— A lfred Tennyson .

And what with the little boat that held only

two and little paths that were only broad enough
,

for tw o and the eveni ng strolls and the night

, ,

i ngales and the glow worms and the thousand

,
-
,

and one other sweet influences which are br ought

to bear ther e was no r esisting the speed with
—

which they wer e hur r ied along to their destiny .

— L u cy B . W lf
a or d .
 And so we two will r ide ,

L ady mine ,

At your pleasur e side by side, ,

L augh and chat ! I bendi ng over ,

H alf your fr iend and a ll your lover !

L ady mine .

B ut if you li ke not this ,

L ady mine ,

And take my love amiss ,

Then I ll ride unto the end

’

H alf your lover a ll your friend!

,

Lady mine .

— Thoma s Bai ley A ldri ch .

L ove at two and twenty is a ter rible

- -
, i ntoxi
cating dr aught .

—R u i i
fl n .

The hear t of a girl in sp r ing is the home of

dr eams.

M eredi th N i cholson .
H e is far gone fa r gone :and truly in my youth
,

I su fler ed
’
much extremity for L ove ! very nearly
this .

S ha kespea re .

We pledged our hear ts my love and I , ,

I in my arms the maiden cla spmg

I could not tell the reason why ,

But oh I tr embled like an aspen !

, ,

H er father ove she bade me gain !

sl
’

I went and shook like any reed !

,

I strove to act the man i n vain !

—
,

We had exchanged our hearts indeed !

— S a mu el Ta ylor C oleridge .

A lover se es hi s sweethear t in ever ything he

looks at just as a man bitten by a mad dog sees
, , ,

dogs in his meat dogs in his dr ink dogs all

, ,

a r ound hi m .

George Deni son Pr enti ce .

A tr inket made like a hear t dear , ,

O f r ed gold bright and fine

, ,

Was given to me for a keepsake ,

Given to me for mine .

And another hear t war m and tender

, ,

As true as a heart could be !

A nd every throb that stirred it
Was always and all for me .

— A dela i de A nne P rocter .

A Violet in her lovely hair ,

A r ose upon her bosom fair !

But 0 her eyes
,

A lovelier violet disclose ,

And her r ipe lips the sweetest r ose

That s neath the skies
’ ’
.

— C ha r les S w a i n .
These are the violets faded and dead she wor e in
, ,

her golden hair ,

That class day night in the long ago when she

-

was y oung and fair !

The shy sweet grace the tender face of thei r
, ,

give r dim appea r s .

Ah ! those faded hopes Of a day long past in the

dr eary r ound of year s .

E nvoi

L ast summer I met her at M ou nt Deser t as ,

w i th husband and childr en she sped

O er the r ocky r oad i n h er vi llage cart and she
’
,

c oolly cut me dead .

S elec ted .

A nd L ate L ove s even sweet er

’

Than Fir st L ove s tender dr eam

’
.
Fi r stlove will with th e heart r emain
When its hopes are all gone by
A s fr ail r ose blossoms still r etain
Their fr agments when they di e
A nd j oy s fir st dreams will haunt the mind
’

With the shades mid which they spr ing

’

A s s ummer leaves the stems behind

O n which spring blossoms hung .

— John C la r e .

But I can te ll— let truth be told

That L ove will change in growing Old
Though day by day is nought to see ,

S o delicate his motions be ,

H i s li tt le spr ing that sweet we found !

,

S o deep in summer floods is dr owned ,

I wonder bathed i n j oy complet e

, ,

H ow L ove so young could be so sweet .

— R ober t B r i dges .
Fa r mor e than kisses letter s mingle souls ,

For thus friends absent meet .

— John Donne .
Wh o omewh er e sa fely stor ed away
k eeps not s ,

Like jewels i n a c asket quaint fr om View , ,

A bundle of love letter s old and new

-
, ,

Yellow wit h age or fr esh as buds of M ay ?

,

Wh someti mes in the silence of the night

o, , ,

With stealthy finger s does not draw them

forth ,

Dear tender tr easur es not of common wor th

, , ,

And live the old love o er that su ffer ed bli ght ?

’

Yes her e a r e mine not faded yet with year s !

, ,

S ometimes I laugh at the old tender flame ,

Tha t kindled them but is it any shame

,

To whisper they a r e wet to night with tear s ?

,
-
,

What strange persistent power Love has to hold

,

Its life though all its ashes have grown cold

,
.

— A r thu r WH . . E a ton .
 I sea l the letter a nd ca r r y gr ea t weight
—
it a
for the ma i l. It seems a s i f there could b e no
other letter tha t da y : a nd a s if a ll the c oaches
and horses and ca r s and bo ats were deta iled to
bea r that single sheet It is a gr ea t letter for me
.
,

my destiny li es in it .

— Dona ld G M i tchell
. .

That letter found t b c on a mi d M a rch - .

mor ning when the thrushes were be ginning to

,

sing when the la rches were r eddeni ng

, .

As she opened it she looked at its length with

,

astoni shm ent Then the tone of it brought the

.

r ushi ng colo r to her cheek and when it was ,

finished she kissed it and hid it in her dr ess .

After weeks of barr enness of str ay postcar ds

,

and per functor y notes these ample pages with

, ,

their r hetorical and sentimental eflusi on br ought ’

,

new life to the fretting lonely woman

, .

— M r s H u mphry
. W a r d.
 I say i n the season
Of Fair M a y in M ay
, Fair ther e can be no
,

reason
Why when quietly munching your dr y toast a nd
,
-

butter ,

Your nerves should be suddenly thr own in a flut

ter

At the sight of a neat little letter addr essed ,

In a woman s handwr iting containing half

’
,

d
’

gu ess

An odor of violets faint as the spr ing ,

A nd coquettishly sea l d with a small signet r ing

’
.

Ow en M er edi th
“ !
— .

! R ob er t Bu l we r L tton
y .
)

Dear I tr ied to wr ite you such a letter

,

As would tell you and all my hear t to da y ! -

Written love is poor one word wer e better

, ,

E asie r too a thousand times to say

, , .

— A dela i de A nne P r oc t
 A letter i snext to a spoken wor d and i f it i sn t
,
’

as good i n some ways it is better i n one :you ca n

,

get it out w heneve r

y ou like and r ead it ove r

aga in.
— E dwa r d Ga rr ett .

Will my letter fall I w onder ed sadly

, ,

O n her mood like some discor dant tone ,

Or be welcomed tender ly and gladly ?

Will she be with other s or alone ?
It may find her too absor bed to r ead it
S ave wi th hurr ied glance or c ar eless a i r !
S a d and wear y she may s carcely heed it !
,

Gay and happy she may har dly car e

, .

—A dela i de A nne P roc ter .

I t w a s very brief ! only a few li nes and not a

name mentioned ! an impulse an ej aculation of
,

love ! every line quivering with electr ic fir e

every w or d a pulsation of the wr iter s heart ’
.

— H enry W dsw
a or th L ongfellow .
 The r eadi ng o f old love lett er s i s i n some w ay
-

a ssoc iate d w ith hair cloth trunks myster io us a t

-
,

ti cs and r ainy days The wr iter ma y be un

, .

known and the hands that laid them away long

since r etur ned to dust but the inter est still r e
,

ma ins .

Dea d r oses cr um bled to ashes i n the gentle

finger s that open the long folded pages the —
,

Violets of a fo r gotten sp r ing impar t a delicat e

fr agr ance to the yellowed spot on which they lay .

The i nk i s faded and the letter much worn as ,

though it had lain next to some youthful breast ,

to be r ead i n silence and solitude until the tender

w or ds w er e graven upon the hear t i n the ex

q u i si te S cr i pt of M em o ry
.

— M yr tle R eed.

0 pr ecious letter s !
- George
O , a e these flowers! thus Delia wr ote
sp r

A nd pinned upon a tr ee ,

With her Ow n hands the dainty note,

A ddr essed to you and me .

Next day the letters fai r wer e flown !

Who stole them ? Dr yads say ? ,

B y chilling A uster w er e they blown ,

B y ! ephyr lur ed away ?

But the t ruth was simply this

no,

Young S tr ephon wande ring by

, ,

S aw fr om the stem with sudden bliss

,

Fair Deli a s en sign fly

’
.

“
A nd oh he cri ed be mine the page
, ,

T hat Delia s hand hath pr est

’
,

For give ye Gods hi s harmless r age

, ,

Whom she hath r obbed of r est !

The slender li nes her crow qui ll tr aced

To w ar n ru de hands away
An exquisite invention this ,

Wor thy of L ove s most honeyed kiss

’
,

This ar t of wr iting bi llet dour

-

In buds and odor s and brigh t hues!

, ,

I n saying all one feels and thinks

In clever da ffodils and pi nks
In puns of tulips ! and in phr ase s ,

C harming for their tr uth of daisies !

Utter ing a s well as silence may
, ,

The sweetest wor ds the sweetest w ay .

H ow fit too for the lady s bosom !

’
, ,

The place wher e bi llet dour repose em

-
’
.

What delight i n some sweet spot

C ombining L ove with gar den plot ,

At once to cultivate one s flower s ’

And one s epistolar y power s !

’

Gr owing one s own choice wor ds and fanci es

’

In or ange tubs and beds of pansies !

,

O ne s sigh s a nd passionate declar ations

’

, ,
In odor ous rhetor ic of car nations !
S eeing how fa r one s stocks will reach !
’

Taking due car e one s flowers of speech

’

To guar d fr om blight as well as bathos ,

And water ing every da y one s p a tho s!

’

A letter c omes j ust ga ther ed We

, .

Dote on i ts tender br illiancy ,

Inh ale its delicate expr essions

O f balm and pea and its confessions
,

M ade with as sweet a M aiden s Blu sh ’

As ever morn bedewed on bush

!
’
T i s in r eply to one o f our s

M ade of the most convi ncing

Then a ft er w e have kissed i ts w i t

And hear t in water putting i t
,

! T o keep its r ema r ks f r esh ) g

, o r ound
Our little eloquent plot of gr ound ,

A nd with enchanted hands compose

Our answer all of lily and r ose
—
, ,
 Of tuberose and of vi olet ,

A nd L ittle Dar ling ! mi gnonette )

Of Look a t me and C all me to you
- - - - -

! Wo r ds that while they gr eet go t hr ough

, ,

yon )!
O f Thoughts of Flames Forget me not
, ,
- -
,

Br idewor t,
— i n shor t the whole blest lot
,

O f voucher s for a li felong kiss ,

A nd liter ally br ea thing blis s

, .

— L ei gh H u nt .

’
Twas twelve at last my heart beat high !
—

The postman r attled at the door !

A nd just upon her r oad to chur ch
“
I dr opt the Bride of L am mermoor !
—
I seized the note I flew upstair s
Flung to the door and locked me i n
-

With panting haste I tor e the seal

A nd kissed the B in Ben3
— Thomas H ood .
C H AP T E R S E VE N

THE GOD O F LOVE

B eauties have ye seen thi s toy
, ,

C alled L ove a little boy

, ,

A lmost naked wanton blind !

, ,

Cr uel now a nd then as kind ?

,

I f he be amongst ye say ,

H e i s Venus runa w ay
’
.

e —Ben Jonson
.
S hall L ove be blind to faults that L ove hath
made ?
The t oo hot blood fr om br ain to hear t upwell
i ng,
To cheeks that bur n too passionate a shade
S hall L ove be blind ?

To eyes that thoughts unspeakable a r e telling ,

To li ps that cannot fr om their will be stayed !

To pulses that too r apidly a r e swelling !
To sweet desir es that will not be delayed
To str ong bright hands all boundaries felling
,

To these dear faults that L ove himself hath

,

made ,

S hall L ove be blind ?

Wi lli a m Ja mes H enderson .

L ove feasts on toys

For Cupid is a child .

— John
Young C upid went storming to Vulcan one day , ,

And besought him t o look at his ar r ow ,

“
Tis useless ! he cried you must mend it I say
’ !

, , ,

Ti sn t fit to let fly at a sparr ow
’ ’
.

There s something that s wrong in the shaft or

’ ’

the dar t ,

For it flutters quite false to my aim ,

Tis an a ge since it fair ly went home to a heart

’
,

And the wo rld really j ests at my name .

L ittle C upid went on with his pitiful tale ,

Till Vulcan the weapon restored !

There take it young sir tr y it now If it fa n
, , , . ,

I will ask nei ther fee nor r ewar d ! !

The urchin shot out a nd r ar e havoc he made

, ,

The wounde d and dead wer e untold ,

Bu t no wonder the r ogu e had such slaughter ing

t r ade
For the ar r ow was laden with gold .

— E li za C ook .
 ’
T other day as I was twining
R oses for a crown to dine i n
, ,

Wh at of all things mid the heap

, ,
’
,

S hould I light on fast asleep

, ,

Bu t the little desper ate elf ,

The tiny tr aitor L ove himself !

, ,

By the wi ngs I picked hi m up

Like a bee and in a cup
,

O f my wine I plunged and sank him ,

Then what d ye think I did I dr ank him

’
— .

Faith I t hought him dead

, N ot b e !
.

Ther e he li Ves with tenfold glee !

And now this moment with his wings
I feel hi m tickling my hear t str ings
- .

— L ei gh H u nt .

L oveis a boy by poets styled

Then spar e the r od and spoil the child .

S a mu el Bu tler .
L ove i na shower safe shelter took
,

In a r osy bower beside a brook ,

And winked and nodded with consci ous pr ide ,

To his votar i es dr enched on the other side .

C ome hither sweet maids there s a bridge below

’
, , ,

The toll keeper H ymen will let you thr ough

-
, ,
.

C ome over the str eam to me .

— R obert Bloomfield .

O t r ust not L ove the waywar d boy

, ,

But hast e i f you d detain hi m

’
, ,

E r e time can beauty s b ond destr oy

’
,

Or other eye s and li ps decoy ,

With H ymen to enchain him .

— C ha r les Fenno H Of ma n .

Accor ding to the A siatics C upid s bow is ,

’

st rung with bees whi ch are apt to sti ng some

times fatally tho se who meddle wi th it
, .

M a ri a
— E dgewor t

98 9 4 9 1
I sa wyoung L ove make t r ial of his b ow ,

In M ay s gr een gar den wher e he shot his dar t

’

N or r ecked if any nigh beheld his a rt ,

But other eyes did mar k him as I know !

For my sweet lady sate anear his thr ow ,

A nd I with her and j oined hear t to hea rt

, ,

S O tha t we mi ght not feel the bitter smart

L ove leave th ther e when time doth for ce us go .

We hear d L ove s arr ows falling in the gr ass

’
,

Or watched them quiver in the targe below !

Yet few O f us came nigh nor might they pass
,

B eyond ou r feet which trembled when they came

, ,

Whose hear t s we re not the quarr y for his aim ,

That i n L ove s chase fell str icken long a go

’
.

— W lt a er C ra ne .

Young Adam C upid he that shot so t r im

, ,

When King C ophetua loved the beggar maid ! -

— S ha k espea re .
O nce Venus deeming Love too fat
, ,

S topped all hi s r ich amb r osial dishes

, ,

Doom i ng th e boy to li ve on chat

To su p on songs and dine on wishes .

L ove lean and lank flew off to pr owl

, , ,

The sta rv eli ng now no b eauty boasted ,

H e could have munched M iner va s ow l ’

,

Or Juno s peacock boiled or r oasted

’
.
,

A t last, half famished almost dead , ,

H e shot his mother s doves for dinner !

’

Young Lilla passing shook her head

, , ,

“
C r ied Love A sho t at you young sinner !
, ,

O h not at me ! she urged her flight

,

“
I m neithe r dove nor lark nor star ling !
’

, ,

“
N O fainting C upid cr ied not quite !
, ,

B ut then you r e such a duck my darling !

— ’
,

— S elected .
 0 when will C upid show such arte
TO st r ike tw o lover s with one dar te ?
I m ice to him or hee to me !
’

Tw o hearts ali ke the r e seldom bee .

I f thri ce t housand meete together

ten
H ow scarce one face is like another ?
If scarce tw o faces can agree
Tw o h ear ts alike the r e seldom bee .

Wi lli am S trode
.

O lady trust the generous boy

, ,

H i s smiles a r e full of light and j oy ,

A nd e en his mos t envenomed dart

’

Is better than a vacant h ear t .

— L di a
y M a ri a C hild .

S ome C upid ki lls with arrows some with tr aps

, .

— S ha kespea re .
That very time I saw ! but thou couldst not )
Flying between the cold moon and the ear th ,

C upid all a rmed : a cer tain aim he t ook

At a fa ir vestal thr oned by the west ,

A nd loosed his love shaft smartly fr om hi s b ow

-
,

As it should pier ce a hundr ed thousand hearts :

B ut I mi ght see young C upid s fiery shaft ’

! uenched i n the chaste b eam s of the watery

moon ,

An d the im per ial votar ess passed on ,

I n maiden meditation fancy free , .

Yet mar ked I wher e the bolt of C upid fell

It fell upon a li ttle western flow er
B efor e mi lk white now pur ple with L ove s
-
,
’

An d maidens call it L ove i -

n-
idleness .

—S ha kes ea re
p .

! C ompli m e nt to ! ueen E liz a b eth .

)
Kind C upid with a tender sigh
, ,

L aid thi s away till by and by .

“
This heart qu oth he I will not sell
,
!
,

Until its hurt be healed or well .

!

Bu t C upid many hearts ther e a r e

, ,

Whose wo unds though healed have left

, ,

scar !
M azi e V C a ru thers
. .

L ove that hath us i n the net ,

C an he pass or we forget ?
,

M any suns ar ise and set .

M any a chance the year s b eget .

Love the gift is L ove the debt .

E ven so .

— A l r ed Tennyson
f .
C H AP T E R E I GH T

DWELLIN G
’
LOVE s
0 L ove builds on the azu r e sea ,

And L ove builds on the golden sand

A nd L ove builds on the r ose winged cloud
-
,

A nd sometimes L ove builds on the land .

— I sa b ella Va lencey C r a wfor d

.
P oor L ove ! said L ife ,
that hast nor gold ,

N or lands nor other stor e I ween !

, ,

Thy very shelter from the cold

Is oft but lowly built and mean .

Nay : Though of r ushes be my bed ,

Yet am I r ich L ove said

,
!
.

— Pri ncess Tr oub etz ko

y .

0,if L ove build on sparkling sea ,

And if L ove build on golden strand ,

And if L ove build on r osy cloud ,

T o L ove these a re the soli d land .

0 , L ovewill build his li ly walls ,

And L ove his pearly r oof will r ear ,

O n cloud or land or mi st or sea

, , , ,

L ove s soli d land i s ever ywher e !

’

— I sa b ella Va lencey C ra wford .

 A Temple to Fr iendshi p cried L aura en ,

chanted n ,

“
I ll build in thi s gar den ! the thought i s
’

divine .

S o the temple was built and she now only ,

wanted
An image of Friendship to place on the shr ine , .

So she flew to the sculptor w ho set down befor e ,

her ,

A n im age the fairest his a rt c ould invent !

,

B ut so cold and so dull that the youthful ador er

, ,

S aw plainly this was not the Fr iendship she

meant .

0 never said she could I think of enshr ining

, ,

An i mage whose looks ar e so j oyless and dim !

But you li ttle god upon r oses r eclini ng ,

We ll make if you please si r a Fri endship O f

’

, , ,
So the bar gain was struck ! with the little god
laden ,

S he j oyfully flew to her home in th e grove ,

“
Far ewell said the sculptor you r e not the
! ’
, ,

fir st maiden
Who came but for Fr iendship and took away ,

!
Love .

Thomas M oore .

The solid solid univer se

,

Is pervious to L ove !
With bandaged eyes he never err s ,

A r ound below above

, , .

H i s blinding light
H e fli ngeth white
O n God s and S atan s br ood
’ ’
,

A nd r econciles
B y mystic wiles
T he evi l and the good .

— R a lph W lda o E merson .

You glo w worms
-
,
shine ou t, and the pathway
discover
To him that comes dar kli ng along the rough
steep .

Ah my sailor make h aste

, , ,

For the time r u ns t o waste ,

A nd my love lieth deep

T oo deep for swift telling ! and yet my one ,

lover
I ve conned thee an a nswer it waits thee to
’

night .
!

By the sycamor e passed he and through the white

,

clover ,

Then a ll the sweet speech I had fashioned took

flight !
But I ll love him more mor e
’
,

Than e er wife loved before

’
,

B e the days dark or br ight .

I ngelow .
CH A PTE R N I NE
’
LOVE s M A! I M S
O I
, see thee old and formal fitted to thy petty
,

part ,

With a little b oar d of maxims pr eaching down a

daughter s heart’
.

— A l red Tenn son

f y .
 C ato the C ensor
used to say the soul of a lover
li ved i n the body of another .

— P lu ta r ch .

A duck of a gi r l can make a goose out of any

man .

— S elected .

L ove me little love me long

,

Is the bur den of my song .

— Old Ballad .

It is a maxim in chivalr y that he who or dains

a knight must himself be virtuous .

— M i lls .

L ove has no age as it is always r enewing

,
it
self .

— Bla i se Pasca l .
The love of one i s tr ue love ! the love of many

R i cha rdson .

M atches ar e made in H ea ven .

— R ober t Bu r ton .

Th er e s many a slip twixt the

’ ’
cu p and the lip .

Willi am C a r ew H azli tt .

L ove a nd a red nose cannot be hid .

— Thomas H olcroft .

F aint hear t ne er ’
w on fair lady .

— Sir W lt a er S co tt
.

M ar ry in ha ste and r epent at leisur e .

Old
-
Prover b .
 M arry in debt and r epent i n a flat .

M oder n M aa i m '
.

Needles and pins ! needles and pins !

When a man marr ies his tr ouble begins .

— N ursery R hyme .

It is best to love wisely no doubt ! but to love

,

foolishly is better than not t o be able to love at

all.

Wi lli am M a kepea ce Tha cker a y .

Tis better to have loved and lost

’

Than never to have loved at all .

— A lfr ed T ennyson .

’
L ove s thing that s never out of season
’
a .

“
— Ba rry C ornw a ll .

! y
Br a n W lle a r Pr oc te r .
)

L ove stoops as fondly as he soars .

— Wi lli a m W or dswor th.

 ’
Ti s L ove that makes the world go round .

Old S ong
- .

L ove and sca n dal ar e the best sweetener s of

tea .

H enry Fi eldi ng .

L ove la ugh s at lock smiths .

— S ha k es ea re
p .

L ove is a blind gui de and those who follow him

too O ften los e the i r way .

— C olle C i b ber
y .

But love c an hope wher e reason would despair .

— L or d L yttleton .

L ove has a tide .

H elen H unt Ja ckson .

L ov e i s a pleasing but a various clime .

— Wi lli a m S henstone .
C H A P T E R TE N

LOVE V
CH I ALRY
 Ther e lived a knight when knighthood was in
flow
’
r,

Who charmed alike the ti lt yard and the bow r

-
’
.

— S elec ted .
H av ing this day my hor se my hand my lance
, ,

Guided so well that I obtained the pr ize ,

B oth by the j udgment of the E nglish eyes

And of som e sent from that sweet enemy Fr ance !
H or semen my skill in horsemanship advance ,

Town folks my st rength ! a daintier j udge ap

plie
His p r aise to sleight which fr om good use doth
r ise !

S ome lucky wits impute it but to chance !

M y blood fr om them who did excel in thi s ,

Think N atur e me a man a t arms did make

- - .

H ow far they shot awr y ! the tru e cause is ,

S tella look d on and fr om her heavenly face

’
,

S ent fort h the beams which made so fai r my r ace .

— S i r P hi li S i dne
p y .

E ach one of us could write one r omance out of

his ow n exPeri ence

M acla ren
.

Ian .

! John W ts n a o .
 Ro m a nce for some the days o f yore
—

When paladin and valian t knight

The gages of their la di es wo re
In bannered list and foray fight
The lonely tower th e castled height
,

S uch brave adventures m a ny p r ize !

Bu t these to me yield chief deli ght
The thoughts I r ea d in S ylvia s eyes !
’

— C li nton S colla rd
.

E laine still dies for love of Lancelot Isolde

,

ur ges T ristram to new p r oofs of d evotion a nd ,

Guenever e the beautiful still sha r es K ing

, ,

A rthur s thr one For chivalr y is not dead i t

—
’
.

only s lee ps— and the nobleness and valour of that

far Off tim e ar e ever at the se r vice of her w ho
-

— M yr tle R eed.
King Fr ancis was a hear ty king and loved a ,

royal sport ,

A nd one day as his lions fought sat looking on ,

the court !
The nobles filled the benches with the ladi es in ,

their pr ide ,

And mongst them sat the C ount de L or ge w ith

’

one for whom he sighed :

And truly twas a gallant thing to see that cr own
’

ing show ,

Valour and L ove and a king above and the

, ,

r oyal beasts below .

R am p d and d the lions , with horr id laugh

’ ’
roa r

ing j aws !
They hi t they glar ed gave blows like beams a
, , ,

wind went with their paws !

With wallowing might and stifled r oar they
r olled on one anothe r ,

Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a

thunder ous smother !
H e bow ed , a nd in a moment leapt among the
li ons w i ld :
i s lea p was quick r eturn was quick he has re
, ,

g a i n d
’
his place ,

Then thr ew the glove but not with love right in , ,

the lady s face ’

.

Well done ! cried Francis ! br avely done ! and

!

he r ose fr om where he sat :

“
N O love quoth he but vani ty sets love a task
!
, , , ,

li ke that — L ei gh H unt
!
. .

I f doughty deeds my lady please ,

R ight soon I ll mount my steed !

’

A nd str ong his a rm and fast hi s seat

That bears fr ae me the meed .

I ll wear thy colou r s i n my ca p

’

Thy picture at my heart !

A nd he that bends not to thi ne eye
S hall ru e it to his smart .

Gra ha m of Ga rtmore .
Call back the gor geous past !
The lists are set the trumpets sound
, ,

B right eyes sw eet j udges thr oned around

, ,

A nd sta tely on the glittering ground

The old chivalr ic li fe !
Fo r wa rd ! The signal word is given !
Ben eath the shock the greensward shakes !
The lust y cheer the gleaming spear
, ,

The snow plume s falling flakes

-
’
,

The fiery j oy of strife !

Wh ois the Vi ctor of the day ?

Thou o f the deli cate form and golden ha i r
, ,

A nd manhood glorious i n i ts midst of M a y

Thou w ho upon thy shield of argent bear est
“
The bold dev i ce The lofti est is the fair est
,

— E dwa r d B ulw er Ly tton

.
Gayly the tr oubadour touched his guitar ,

A s he was hasteni ng home fr om the w ar ,

“
S inging Fr om P alestine hither I come
, ,

L a dye love la dye love welcome me home !

-
,
-
,

S he for her troubadour hopelessly wept ,

S adly she thought on him whilst other s slept ,

“
S ighing ,In sear ch of thee would I m ight,

r oam ,

Tr oubadour t r oubadour c ome to thy home !

, ,

H ar k ! twas the tr oubadour br eathing her

’

name ,

As under the battlement softly he came ,

“
S inging Fr om P alestin e hither I come
, ,

L a dye love la dye love welcome me home !

- -
, ,

— Old S ong .

The Knight s bones ar e dust

’
,

A nd hi s good swor d r ust

H i s soul is with the saints I trust , .

— S a muel Ta ylor C oleri dge .

 Lov e wakes a nd w eeps
While Beauty sleeps !
O h ! for music s softest number s
’

To pr ompt a theme
For B eaut y s dr e am
’
,

S o ft as the pillow of her slumbers !

W lt
a er S cott
.
A h , S weet ,
thou little knowest how
I wake and passionate watches keep
An d yet while I addr ess thee now ,

M ethinks thou smilest in thy sleep .

Tis sweet enough to make me weep

’
,

That tender thought of love and thee ,

That whi le the world is hushed so deep ,

Thy soul s per haps awake to me !

’

S leep sleep on sweet br ide of sleep

on, , ,

With golden visions for thy dower ,

While I this midnigh t vision keep ,

An d bless thee i n thy silent bower

To me tis sw eeter than the power
’

O f sleep and fair y dr eams unfur led

, ,

That I alone at thi s still hour

, ,

In pati ent love outwatch the wor ld .

— T homas H ood
.
S leep sweet beloved one sleep sweet !
, , ,

Without here night is gr owing ,

The dead leaf falls the da r k boughs meet

, ,

An d a chill wind is blowing .

S trange shapes a r e stir r ing in the night ,

TO the deep br eezes wailing ,

An d slow wi th wistful gleams of ligh t

, ,

The storm tost moon is sailing

- .

S leep ,
sweet beloved one sleep sweet !
, ,

Fold thy white hands my blossom !

,

Thy warm lim bs in thy lily sheet ,

Thy hands upon thy bosom .

Though evil thoughts may walk the dar k ,

Not one shall near thy ch amber !

But shapes divine shall pause to mark ,

S inging to lutes of amber .

L ook upon the stars my love
out , ,

A nd shame them with thine eyes ,

On which than on the lights above

, ,

Ther e hang mor e desti ni es .

Night s bea uty is the h armony

’

Of blending shades and li ght ,

Then lady u p look out and be

,
—
, ,

A sister to t he night .

S l eepnot ! thi ne image w akes for aye

Within my watching br east !
S leep not ! fr om her so ft sleep should fly
Who r obs all hearts of rest .

N ay lady from thy slumber s br eak

, , ,

A nd make this dar kness gay ,

Wi th looks whose brightness well mi ght

Of dar ker night a day .

— E dward C oa te Pi nkney .
S ta r s
of the summe
Far in you azur e deeps ,

H ide hide your golden light !

,

S he sleeps !
M y la dy sleep s!
S leeps !

M oon o f the summer night !

F ar down you western steeps ,

S ink ! s ink in s i lve r light !

S he sleeps !
M y lady sleeps !
S leeps !

Wind of the summe r ni ght !

Whe r e yonder woodbine c reeps ,

Fold fold thy pini ons light !

,

S he sleeps !
M y lady sleeps !
S leeps!
1 41
 Dreams of the summer night !
Tell h er her lover keeps
,

Watch while in slumber li ght

,

S he sleeps !
My lady sleeps!
S leeps !
— H enry Wdw a s or th L ongfellow .

Good night
- . Good night
-
. Ah , good the
night
T hat wr aps thee in its silver light .

Good night N O night is good for me

- .

Th at does not hold a thought o f thee .

Good night
- .

Good night
- . ever y night as sweet
Be
A s that which made ou r love complete ,

Till that last night when death shall be

One br ief Good night for thee and me
“ !
- .
,

Good night
- .

— S . Wei r M i tchell .
 N 0 no ! tis not the tangled dew
,
’
,

’
Tis not the silver fr etted sand-
,

It i s my ow n dear lady tr ue
With golden hair and lily hand !
0 noble pilot steer for Tr oy !
,

Good sailor ply the laboring oa r !

,

This is the ! ueen of li fe and j oy

Whom we must b ear fr om Gr ecian
shor e !
— Osca r Wi ld e.

The violet loves the sunny bank ,

The cowslip loves the lea ,

The scarlet cr eeper loves the elm

—
But I love thee .

— Ba ya r d Taylor .

Thr ough thee meseems the ver y r ose is red

, , ,

Fr om thee the violet steals i ts br eath in M a y .

— J a mes R ussell L owell .

O er the ocea n vague and wide
’

S leep comes with t he coming tide .

Breezes lull my lady fai r ,

C ool her eyelids sooth e her hai r

, ,

While the mur mur ing surges seem

To float her thr ough a wo rld of dr eam .

S hadowy sloops ar e gliding in

S afe the ha rbor b a r withi n
-
.

S ilently each phantom pale

Dr ops the anchor furls the sail
, .

S he meanwhile remote fr om me
, ,

Dri fts on sleep s unfa thomed sea

’
.

S O ma y very d ream of ill

e

F ind its anchor age and be st ill

,

S orr ow fur l its sails and cea se

In this mi dni ght r ealm of pe ace
A nd ea ch wander ing though t find r est
In the haven o f her b reast .

-
Thoma s W ntw
e orth H iggi nson .
I ar ise fr om dr eam s of thee
In the fir st sleep O f night ,

When the winds a r e br eathi ng low ,

An d the star s a r e shi ni ng b r ight !

I ari se fr om dr eams of thee ,

A nd a spir it i n my feet
H ath led m e w ho knows how ?
—

To thy chamber window sweet ! ,

The wanderi ng ai r s they fai nt

,

In the dark the si lent str eam !

,

A nd the champak Odor s fail

Li ke sw eet thoughts in a dream
The nightingale s complai nt
’
,

It dies upon her hear t ,

As I must di e on thi ne ,

O h beloved as thou art !

,
Awake The star r y midni ght hour
l
—

H angs charmed and passeth i n its flight !

,

In i ts own sweetness sleeps the flower ,

A nd the doves lie housed in deep delight

'

A wake ! A wake !
L ook forth my love for Love s sweet sake !
’

, ,

A wake S o ft
dews will soon arise
—

From daisied mead and thorny b r ake

Then sweet uncloud those eastern eyes
, , ,

And like the tender morning break !

Awake ! A wake !
Dawn for th my love for L ove s sweet sake !
, ,
’

—
Awake Within the musk rose bower -

I watch pale flower of love for thee

, , .

Ah come ! and show the starry hour

,

What wealth of love thou hi d st from me ! ’

A wake ! Awake !
S how all thy love for L ove s sweet sake !
’

Ba rr y C ornwa ll .

ler Pr oc te r .
)
Awake thee my L ady love !
,
-

Wake thee and rise !

,

The sun thr o ugh the bowe r peeps

Into thine eyes .

B ehold how the ea rly la rk

S prings fr om the corn !
H ark hark how the flow er bir d
,
-

Winds her wee b or n !

The swallow s glad shr iek i s hea r d

’

A ll t hr ough the a i r !
The st ock dove is mu rmuring
-

Loud as she da re .

s w i ng d b uglem an
A pollo
’ ’

C anno t conta in ,

But pea ls hi s loud trumpet ca ll

-
 Then wake thee my Lady love !
,
-

B i r d O f my bower !
The sweetes t and sleepies t
B ir d at this hour .

George Darley .

The ai r o flakes clingi ng

i s w hi te w i th sn w -

B etween the gusts that come and go

M ethinks I hear the woodla rk singing .

Or ca n i t b e the br eeze i s b r inging

The br eath vi olets Ah no !
of —
,

The air is white wi t h snow flak es clinging

- .

It is my lady s voice that s str inging

’ ’

Its beads of gold to song ! and so

M ethinks I hear the w oodlark singing .

The vi olet s I see upspri nging

Ar e in my lady s eyes I tr ow !
’
,

The ai r i s whi te with snow flak es clingi ng

- .

John Payne - .
Why did she love him ? C ur ious fool ! b e still
Is hum an love the gr owth of hum an will ?

— L or d Byron .
 A woman w ho really loves a man
governs him unconsciously to herself by the twin
, ,
’

powers of sex and inst i nct S he was intended

. .

for his help mate to gui de hi m in the ri ght way

-
,

by her finer forces If she neglects to cultivate

.

these finer forces i f sh e t ramples on her own

—
“
na t ur al he ritage and seeks to best him w ith
,
!

— —
his own weapons s he fails she must fail she —

deserv es to fail !
— M a ri e C o r elli .

But though I loved you well I woo d you not ! ’

,

And yet good fai th I w i sh d myself a man :

, ,
’

O r that w e women had men s p rivilege

.
’
,

O f spe aking fir st .

—S ha k es ea r e
p .

But
I love you sir ,

And when a w oman says she loves a man ,

The ma n m ust hea r her though he love her

, not .

— E li za b eth B a rrett B row ni ng .

1 53
 r e s nd
—
’
Why the —
yes it m u s
, t b u t c an— i b e t—

The bean a nd idol of girlhood s fancies ? ’

H ow came he to be her e ? Will he know me ?

! uee r a r e th e ways O f f a t e an d f or t u ne s ’

chances ?

The handsomest b oy in school with scor n for ,

books ,

Adonis face and figure curly hair ! ,

H ow ver y thi n he s gr own now a nd he looks

’

C ar eworn and old! he s bald too I declar e !

’

, ,

I loved him loving me with all my heart !

,

I wonder i f he s mar r ied ! i f he is

’

Wher e is hi s wi fe ? H ow did w e drift apart ,

L oving a nd loved ? Was i t my fault or hi s?

’
Twa s circumstances fate what not ! Ah me !
, ,

I wonder i f I look as Old a s he !

G L Blood
. . .
T rust thou thy L ove :if she be pr oud is she not ,

sweet ?
T ru st thou thy Love :if she be mute is she not ,

pu r e ?
L ay thou thy soul full in her hands low at her ,

feet
F ail S u n and Br ea th l yet for thy peace she
,
—
, ,

shall endur e .

— John R uski n .

Shenever told her love

Bu t let concealment like a wor m i the bud
’
, ,

F eed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ,

A nd with a gr een and yellow melancholy

She sat like patience on a monument
S miling at grief .

— S ha kespea r e .

N O fam e no glory no wealth ca n

, , ,

ever give one thousandth part of the r eal hear t s ’

content t ha t one hour of love can give .

— Fr a nces L i ttle .
 N trust you dear ? N ay tis not t rue
ot , ,
’

A s sailors t rust the shifting sea

Fr om day to day so I tr ust you , .

They kno w how smooth the sea ca n be

A nd well they know its treache ry
When tempests blow ! yet for th they thrust
Thei r ships as in secur ity
, ,

They tru st it dear because they must

, ,
.

— H a nna h P a r k er K i mba ll .

A woman s hear t is a very queer t hing on the

’
,

whole It falls in love in the most u na cc ount

.

able w ay wi th the most u na ccountable men

,
.

“
Ti mo thy Ti tc om b .

! J G
. H olla.nd .
)

S omepr ay to mar r y the man they love !

M y pr ayer will somewha t var y !
I humbly pray to heav en above
That I love the man I marr y .

— R ose Pastor S tokessr

l l
 Pr ithee tell me Dimple C hi n
,
-
,

A t what age does L ove begin ?

Your blue eyes have sca rcely seen
S ummer s thr ee my fai r y queen
, ,

But a mi r acle O f sweets ,

S oft appr oaches sly r etr eat s

, ,

S how the li ttle ar cher ther e

H idden in your p r etty hair !
When didst learn a heart to w i n?
Pr ithee tell me Dimple C hin !
,
-

O h ! the r osy li ps r eply

!

I can t tell you if I try

’
.

’
Tis so long I can t r emember ’

A sk some younger lass than I .

— E dmund C la r ence S tedman .

When I saw him tangled in h toils er ,

A shame said I if she a dds just him

, ,

To her nine and ninety other spoils ,

The hundredth for a whim .

— R ober t Browni n
g .
 Alas ! to seize the moment
When heart inclines to heart ,

A nd p r ess a suit with passion

Is not a woman s part ’
.

If man come not to gather

The roses wher e they stand ,

They fade among their foliage ,

They cannot seek his hand .

S elec ted .

E ver y rose you sang has its thorn

, , ,

But this has none I know

!
.
,

S he clasped my r i val s rose

’

Over her heart of snow .

I bowed to hide my pain

With a man s unskilful art
’
,

I moved my lips and could not say

, ,

The thorn was in my heart .

— Wi lli am Dea n H owells .

Why don t the men p r opose mamma ?
’

Why don t the m en p r opose

’
?

E a ch seems j ust co mi ng to the po int ,

A nd then aw ay he goes !

I t i s no fault of your s m amma

, ,

Tha t ev er ybody kn ows !

You fete the finest men in town ,

Yet oh ! they won t p r opose

,
’
.

Im sure I ve done my be st mamma

’ ’
, ,

To make a prop er match !

For co ronets and eldest sons
I m ever on the watch
’

I ve hopes when some disti ngue beau

’

A glance upon me throws !

But though he ll d ance and smi le and fli rt
’

, , ,
 Roseshave thorns ! and love is thorny too ! ,

A nd thi s i s love s sharp thor n which guards its

’

flower ,

That our beloved have the cru el power

To hurt u s deeper than all other s know .

S usa n C ooli dge .

! S a r a h C . W oo sl ey )
.

H ave you not heard it said full o ft ,

A woman s nay doth stand for naught ?

’

S ha k espea r e .

Fli rt ation i s playing at cour tship without

any cr uel intentions ! while coquetr y is a n attempt
.

t o attr act admiration and gain matrimonial of

,

fer s from a desire to gratify vanity and with the

, ,

intention to r ej ect the suitor .

W bst e er .
 ! A write r laments the want o f a suitable E n
g
li sh wor d for a young woman whom a man is en
ged to mar ry )
.

P er haps i t s j ust a bi t absur d

’

That there should be no E nglish word

“
For the fair gir l whose honeyed Y es
For etells li fe s loveliest happiness
’
.

Intended when the i nt ent i s done

, ,

Is very near the only one .

“
S ince your best girl is but a phr ase
!

Th at fills imper fectly it s place .

Another whose bouquet is nice

“
Your sweetheart is not quite precise !
!
—

A nd so to France ou r fancies stray ,

Wh er e she is called one s fiancée

’
.

Who cares though when her loving smile

, ,

Is turned upon you all the while ,

1 64
A nd both fond he ar ts a re a ll aflame ,

H ow ali en i s her special name ?

’
Is not Lov e s speech that most we p r ize
O ne of the p r essed lips a nd sparkling eyes ?

! This I ve
’
been told ) nor less p r eferr ed

Because we lack one E nglish word .

— Jo el B enton .

B ette r to love than to

be loved
B etter to ser ve and se r ving guide
, ,

Than wait with idle oar s unproved

, ,

And fla pping sail b y each breath moved ,

The tur ning of life s solemn tide

’
.

L ive ,
work and love ! as heaven assign
,

F or heaven or man thy sacr ed p ar t !

, ,

Ancest r ess O f a noble line ,

Or calm in maid m decline

B ut keep till death the woman s hear t
’
.

— Di na h M ulock C rai k .
There wer e thr ee maidens who loved a King !
They sat togeth er beside the sea !
“
One cried I love him a nd I would di e
, ,

If but for one day he might love me .

!

The second whispered And I would die

,

To gladden his life or make hi m gr eat

!
.
,

The thi rd one spoke not but gazed afar

,

With dr eamy eyes that w er e sad as Fate .

The Ki ng he loved the first for a day ,

The second his life with fond love blest !

A nd yet the woman who never spoke
Was the one of the thr ee who loved him best .

— L u cy H a mi lton H OOper .

S oft is the breath of a maiden s Yes’

N ot the light goss amer stir s with less ,

Bu t never a c able that holds so fast

Thr ough a ll the battles of wave and blast .

— Oli ver W nd ll H
e e olmes .
 Why can t clever women marr y and m a k e
’

j ust as good wives as the others ? Why c a n t a ’

woman bend her cleverness to see that her h o u se

is in or der and her di nner s well cooked a nd b u t
, ,

ton s sewed Ou as well as to discuss new b o o k s

,

and keep pace with her husband s intellect r e a lly ?

’

DO you suppose because I know Gr eek th a t I

cannot be i n love Do you suppose because I
?

went thr ough higher mathematics that I ne v er

pr essed a flower he gave me ? DO you i magin e
that Biology kills blushing i n a woman ? Do yo u
think that Philosophy keeps me fr om crying m y
sel f to sleep wh en I think he doesn t car e for me
’
,

or growing i diotically glad when he t ells me he

does ? What rubbish p eople wr ite upon this sub

j ect —L i li a n Bell .

L ove is the crown of a woman s life

’
.

S elected .
He o d sway the gentlest girlish hea r t
w ho w ul

M ust give his own and give it not in part !

,

He wi ns wha t he best ows.

George B a r low .
 H e that love s a r osy cheek
O r a coral li p admires ,

Or from starlike eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintai n his fires !
As Old Time makes these decay ,

S O his flames must waste away .

But a smooth and steadfast mind ,

Gentle thoughts and calm desires ,

Heart s with equal love combined ,

Kindle never dying fires

-

Where these are not I despise ,

L ovely cheeks or lips or eyes .

—T ho mas C a r ew .

L ove you ? said I the n I si ghed a nd then I

!
, ,

gazed upon her sweetly ,

For I think I do thi s sort of thing par ticularly

neatly.

Wi lli am S chwenck Gi lber t .

 C on templat io n !

! Gallant th i nks her gr ea t ) .

Deco rati on .

! Off to lear nhis fate ) .

P alpitati on !
T repidat ion
O n the lover s side
’
.

Desperation !
O sc ulation .

N ow she is his b r ide .

— C ha r les H ouston Ga udi es

.

Wh at is a poet s love ’

To wri te a gir l a sonnet ,

To get a ring or some such thi ng

, ,

A nd fustianize upon i t .
 O ut upon it ! I have loved
Thr ee whole days together !
A nd a m like t o love three mor e ,

I f i t pr ove fair weather .

B ut the spi te on t i s no pr aise

’
, ,

Is due at all to me !
Love wi th me ha d made no stays ,

H ad i t any been but she .

H ad i t any been but she ,

A nd that ver y face ,

T here had bee n at least er e t hi s

A dozen i n her place .

—S i r John S uckli ng .

H i s eyes had i ndeed told her much but the ,

word L ove had not passed his lips — and yet

that w a s wha t it came to
.

—Geor e E b ers
g .
 S O to mak e my meri t more
I ll go b eyond the letter !
’

For she s sw eeter than the br eath

’

O f the spr ing that passes

,

Thr ough the fr agr ant bu dding w oods

, ,

O er the mea dow g asses

’
- r .

-G
eorge A Ba ker Jr . , .

It w as happy age wh en a m a n mi ght have

a

wooed hi s w ench w i th a pair o f ki d leather glove s ,

9 silver thi mble or w i th t awdr y lace ! but now

.
,

a velvet gown a chain of pear l or a coach with

, ,

four hor ses wi ll scarcely serv e the tur n .

 A BA C H ELOE S OLILO! U Y : A PARODY
’
s .

To w ed, or not wed th at is the ques tion

to —
,

Whe ther tis be tter all alone to su ffer

’

The j okes and laughte r of mischi evous maidens ,

Or to take a wi fe despite a thousand tro ubles

, ,

And by thus wedding end them ? To a sk to

,
—
,

wed
Do ubt o er ! and w i th a wife to sa y we end
’
, ,

The hear t ache and the gr ea test natu ral want

-
,

—
That man i s heir to ti s a consummation ’

Devoutly to he wi shed To ask to wed

— .

To w ed! perchance a vi xen ! a y the re s the r ub !

’

For in that state o f j oy what sto rms may come ,

When we have sh u ffled off this mor tal coil ,

M ust make us pause That s a result .

’

That ma kes calamity of marr ied life !

For w ho would hea r the sco ff s and j eer s of men ,

The mai den s scorn the widow s c ruelty

’ ’

, ,

The p an gs of desp i sed love the day s delay

’

, ,
The i nsolence of r i vals and the sli ghts
,

The doubtful lover of a fair one takes ,

When he hi mself might his qui etus make

With the first asking ? Who such burdens
And gr oan and sigh under a single life !
, ,

Bu t that the fear that something a fter mar

The dread connubi al state fr om whose bour ne

,

—
No bachelor r etur ns puzzles our wills !
And makes us r ather bear the ills w e have ,

Than fly to others that w e know not of .

— A non mous
y .

Visions of C lara and Gladys and little E mily

haunt the background o f eve ry man s mind by ’

the ti me he s fiv e and thi r ty and cut entr ancing

’
- -
,

caper s against the sky line so that he finds the

,

actually pr esent woman her e in the for egr ound

, ,

hasn t really any look i n at all

’
-

L u cas M a let
.

Lege r H a r r i son i )
‘

! M a r y S t .
Inmany a marriage made for gold
The br ide i s bought and the bri degr oom sol d
-
.

— A nony m o us .

M en marr y for fortune , and someti mes to

please their fancy ! but much oftener than is sus
p e c ted they c onside r what the wo r ld will sa y of
it ! how such a woman in their fr iends eyes w ill
’

look at the head of the table H ence we see so

.

many insipid beauties made wives of that co u ld

,

not have str uck the par ticular f ancy of any m a n

that had any fancy at all ! a s many buy furnitu r e

and pictur es because they suit this or that niche
in their di ni ng r ooms These I call fur ni tu r e
- .

wi ves .

— C ha r les L a m b .
“
I ll gi v é to you a paper of pins
’

If th at s the w a y that lo ve begins

’

If you will marr y me me me

, , ,

If you will m a rry me .

“ ’
I ll give to you the key of my hea rt ,

That we m a y love and neve r p a rt ,

If you will marr y me me me , , ,

If you will marry me .

!

— O ld S ong .

S he t ook the li ttle ivory chest

With half a sigh she turned the key
Then r ai sed her head with lips comp re st ,

And gave my letters back to me .

And gave the trinkets and th e r ings ,

M y gifts when gifts of mine could pleas e !

,

A s loo ks a fa ther on the things

O f hi s dead so n I looked on these
, .
T he maid as by the paper s doth appear
, ,

Whom fifty thousand dollar s made so dear ,

To test Lothar io s passion simply s a id

’

“
Fo r ego the weed befor e we go to wed .

For smoke t ake flame ! I ll be that flam e s b r ight

’ ’

fanner
To have you r A nna give up your H avana
, .

Bu t b e when th us she br ought him to the scratch

, ,

L i t hi s cigar and thr ew away the match

, .

— S elec ted .

L o ve ,no doubt is a str ange and ter r ible thin g

,

it may lead a man to the writing of ver ses a nd a

most fatiguing sear ch for wor ds but it will n ot
,

allow him to be happy in anyth ing except its ow n

satisfaction .

— M a uri ce H ew le tt .
 ’
L EN VO I

What c uo ld be mor e satisfactor y than th e e nd

“
ing of the old fairy tales
- — and so they w e r e
,

marr ied and lived happy eve r after ? N ot for

!

them the str enuous adj ustment of tempe r a nd

temper ament o f extr avagance and pover ty w ith
, ,

the divor ce court at the end of the second year .

In the blessed tales of one s childhood they m a r

’
,

r i ed and lived happily A y and for ever after !

.
,

— Lili a n B ell .

L ove
s history as L i fe is ended not
’ ’
, s,

By marr iage .

-
Ba ya r d Ta y lor .

L ove exti ngui sh earth and must f a il

’
d,
’
hea v n .

— S ir WJ. on es.

L ove c onquer s all .

By r on .
There is no j o
y the j oy of lov e .

— S ele c ted.
 PAGE

B U CHA N A N R OB ER T , 138
B URNETT FR A NC ES HODGSO N , 14
B URN S ROBER T , v 56
B UR TON RO B ER T , 1 19
B U T LER S AM U EL , 98
B Y RON LORD , 1 2, 63 , 7 1 , 1 59, 1 84

C AM P B ELL T HOMAS , 1 7, 45 1 79
C AM PBELL WI LL IAM WI LFRED , 7
C A RE W T HOMA S , 1 79
C A RLYLE T HO MA S , 71
C A RUT HERS MA ! I E V , . 1 05
CA RY AL ICE
, 64
CERV A N T ES 1 25
CH A P MA N GEORGE , 1 4, 31
CH I LD L YD IA MA R IA
, 1 03
C I BBER COLLEY , 1 22
CL A RE J OHN
, 80
C OLER I DGE S AM U E L TAY LOR 1 s
8 4
,
-9 , 77 1 3 2, 1 83
C OL rON
'
CH A RLES C A LEB
, 13 , 89
COOK EL I ! A
, 96
COOLIDGE S U S A N ! S A R A H C W OOLSEY )
, . 1 69
CORELL I MA R I E ,
3 5, 1 53
CORN WA LL B A RR Y ! B R YA N w , . 1 20 1 48
COW LE Y A BR A H AM ,
117
CR AI K D I N A H M ULOCK
,
3 9, 3 3 , 1 6 5
CR A NE WA LT ER,
1 00
CR AW FORD F MA R I ON , . 3 8, 1 01
CR AWFORD I S A BELL A V ALE N CE Y ,
1 08, 1 1 0

D A N I EL S AM UEL ,
19
Y GEORG E ,
1 49
DE M ORG AN W I LL I AM .

DE S A LLE A N TO I NE ,

DE SCUDERY M LLE , .

DE VERE MA R Y CL I NGE ,

D I LLON MA RY,

DOBSON A USTI N
,

DO NNE J OHN
,

DRYDEN JOHN ,

DUER CA ROL INE

,

EATO N A R T HUR W H
, . .

EBERS GEORG E
,

E DGEW OR T H MA R IA ,

E M ERSON R A LPH WA LD O , 7 9, 7 4, 97 , 1 1 2 ,
ENDERS GEORGE , 24 ,
E U LA LIU S

F I ELD I NG H E NRY ,

FLE TCHER PH I NE A S ,

FO RD JO H N
,

FORD P A UL LE I CES TER

,

G A RL A ND HAML I N ,

G A RRE TT ED WA RD ,

GA UDISS CH A RLE S H O US T O N
,

GENES I S xxx 1 as ,

GER MA N FROM THE ,

G I L B ER T W I LLI AM SCH W ENC K

.

G O ET H E
G RAHAM or GA Rr MOR E
GR E EN E H OM E R,

G REEN W OOD GR A CE ,
HA RD Y E J , . .

H A R E J C A ND A W
, . . . .

H A VE RGA L F R A NCES R , .

A Y J OH N
,

HA ! L I T T WI LL IAM CA RE W
,

HE I NE HE I NR I C H
,

HENDE R SON WI LL IAM J AM E S ,

HE RR I CK ROB E R T ,

H E WLETT MA UR I CE ,

H E YW OOD JOHN ,

HI GG I N S ON T HOMA S W EN TWOR T H ,

H I NKSON K AT H E R I NE TY N A N
,

HOFF MA N C H A RLES FENNO ,

HOLC RA FT T HO MA S ,

H OLM ES OL I VER WE NDELL

,

H OOD T HO MA S
,

H OOPE R LUCY H AM I L TON

,

H OPE A N T HON Y
,

HOWE LLS WI LL I AM D E A N ,

H U GO V I CTOR
,

H U NT LE I GH
,

I N GELO W J EA N ,

J A CKSON H ELEN HUN T ,

J AM ES H E NRY ,

JERROLD DOU GL A S ,

JONES S IR w, .

JON SON BE N ,

KE A TS JOHN , 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

LL HA NN A H P A RKE R
,
OLD B A LL AD
OLD PROVE R B
OLD SONG
O R EI LLY JO H N BOY LE
'
,

PA S C A L BLAI S E ,

P ATM OR E COVEN T R Y ,

P AY NE J OHN ,

PEELE GEORG E,

PET R A RC H F R A NCESCO ,

PHILLPOTS EDEN ,

P I NKNE Y ED WA RD CO AT E
,

PLU TA RCH
PO PE A LE ! A NDER
,

PORT ER A NN A MA R IA
, .

PRA E D M RS C AM PBELL
, .

PRA E D WI N T HROP MA CK WOR T H

,

PREN TI SS GEORGE DEN I SON ,

P ROCTE R AD E L A I D E A NNE
, 1 8, 85,
P U NCH
R A LE I GH S IR WA LTER ,

R E DDA LL H ENR Y FREDER I C,

R EED MY R TL E
, 87,
R I CH
R I CH A RDSON
ROB I NSON A MA RY F , . .

ROCHEFOUC A ULD
RODGER A LE ! A NDER ,

ROW E N I CHOLA S
,

RUC K E RT F R IE DR I CH .
SCO TT S I R
, 91 , 67, 1 1 9,
SE LEC T ED 6, 8, 1 5, 1 6, 91 , 99, 93 , 39, 3 3 , 43 , 45, 47,
4 8, 59, 60, 69, 79, 89, 97 , 1 09, 1 1 8, 1 94 , 1 55, 1 60, 1 68, 1 7 5,
S HAK ES PEA R E
1 6, 98, 3 1 , 40, 55, 77 , 1 00, 1 04, 1 06, 1 1 7 , 1 99, 1 3 9, 1 53 , 1 56,
S HELLE Y PERCY B YSSHE
, 59 ,
SHENSTONE WI LL IAM ,

S I DNE Y S I R PH I L I P
,

SPENSE R ED M UND ,

STA N TON FR A NK L I BB Y
,

STED MA N ED M UND CLA RENCE

,

ST E ELE S I R R I CH A RD
,

ST ERNE LAW RENCE

,

STO KES ROSE P A S TOR

,

50, 1 4 4, 1 84
TEN NY SON A LFRED , 7 5 1 06 , , 1 1 6 , 1 90, 1 81 , 1 83
TH A CKER AY WI LL IAM MA KE PE A CE
, 1 90, 1 59
TITCOM B TIM O T H Y ! J G H O LLA ND )
, . .
T ROUB ET! KOY PR I NCESS ,

T U PPE R MA RTI N F A R! U HA R
,

YA N DYKE H EN RY
‘
.
.

WA LFORD L U CY B , .

WALLE R E D M U ND ,

WA LS H WI LL IAM
,

WA RD MRS HU M PHR Y
, .

W E B S TE R
WHITT I E R JOHN GREENLE A F
,

W I GG I N K AT E DOUGLA S
,

WI LDE OS C A R
,

WI LL I S N AT H A N I EL P A RKER
,

WORDS W O RT H W I LLI AM ,

YO U N G , E D W A RD