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I do love violets! They tell the history of woman's love; They open with the earliest breath of spring; Lead a sweet life of perfume, dew and light, And, if they perish, perish with a sigh Delicious as that life. On the hot June They shed no perfume; the powers may
remain But the rich breathing of their leaves is
past.The violet breath of love is purity.
LOVE IN ABSENCE.
OH! my dear peerless wife! By the blue sky and all its crowded stars I love you better-oh! far better than Woman was ever loved. There's not an hour Of day or dreaming night but I am with There's not a wind but whispers of thy name, And not a flower that sleeps beneath the
moon, But in its hues or fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love, to my fond anxious heart.
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
They sin who tell us love can die,
All others are but vanity.
But Love is indestructible,
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
It soweth here with toil and care,
The babe she lost in infancy,
all her tears, An over-payment of delight.
'Tis nature's second sun, Causing a spring of virtues where he shines. And as without the Sun, the world's Great
Eye, All colours, beauties, both of art and nature, Are given in vain to man; so without Love, All beauties bred in women are in vain, All virtues born in men lie buried; For love informs them as the sun doth colours, And as the Sun, reflecting his warm beams Against the earth, begets all fruit and flowers, So Love, fair shining in the inward man, Brings forth in him the honourable fruits Of valour, wit, virtue, and haughty thoughts, Brave resolution, and divine discourse.
Love in my bosom, like a bee
Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me,
Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
Strike I my lute~he tunes the string,
What if I beat the wanton boy
With many a rod;
Because a god.