Here you will find the Long Poem Love Sonnets of poet Charles Harpur
I. HOW beautiful doth the morning rise O?er the hills, as from her bower a bride Comes brightened?blushing with the shame-faced pride Of love that now consummated supplies All her full heart can wish, and to the eyes Dear are the flowers then, in their green haunts spied, Glist ning with dew: pleasant at noon the side Of shadowy mountains ridging to the skies: At eve ?tis sweet to hear the breeze advance Through the responding forest dense and tall; And sweeter in the moonlight is the dance And natural music of the waterfall: And yet we feel not the full charm of all, Till love be near us with his magic glance. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- II. WHY tower my spirits, and what means this wild Commotion at my heart?this dreamy chase Of possible joys that glow like stars in space? Now feel I even to all things reconciled, As all were one in spirit. Rudely up-piled Brown hills grow beautiful; a novel grace Exalts the moorland?s once unmeaning face; The river that, like a pure mind beguiled, Grows purer for its errors, and the trees That fringe its margin with a dusky shade, Seem robed in fairy wonder; and are these Exalted thus because with me surveyed By one sweet sould whom well they seem to please Here at my side?an almost stranger maid? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- III. NOW sunny, as the noontide heavens, are The eyes of my sweet friend, and now serene And chastely shadowy in their maiden mien; Or dream-power, sparkling like a brilliant star Fills all their blue depths, taking me afar To where, in the rich past, through song is seen Some sovereign beauty, knighthood?s mystic queen, Pluming with love the iron brows of war! Bright eyes before, with subtle lightning glance Have kindled all my being into one Wild tumult; but a charm thus to enhance My heart?s love-loyalty till now had none! And can this witchery be the work of chance? I know not?I but know my rest is gone. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- IV. A VAST and shadowy hope breaks up my rest Unspoken; nor dares even my pen to write How my pent spirit pineth day and night For one fair love with whom I might be blest! And ever with vague jealousies possessed The more I languish, feeling these may so Oppress affection that for very woe She longs at last to die deep buried in my breast! O for a beaker of the wine of love, Or a deep draught of the Lethèan wave! The power a mutual passion to emove, Or that repose which sealeth up the grave! Yet these my bonds are blameless; one more wise Had dreamt away his freedom, dreaming of her eyes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- V. HER image haunts me! Lo! I muse at even, And straight it gathers from the gloom, to make My soul its mirror; which (as some still lake Holds pictured in its depths the face of heaven) Through the hushed night retains it: when ?tis given To take a warmer presence and incline A glowing cheek burning with love to mine, Saying??The heart for which thou long hast stiven With looks so fancy-pale, I grant thee now; And if for ruth, yet more for love?s sweet sake, My lips shall seal this promise on thy brow. ? Thus blest in sleep?oh! Who would care to wake, When the cold real from his belief must shake Such vows, like blossoms from a shattered bough? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- VI. SHE loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips The live confession came, like rich perfume From crimson petals bursting into bloom! And still my heart at the remembrance skips Like a young lion, and my tongue too trips As drunk with joy! While very object seen In life?s diurnal round wears in its mien A clear assurance that no doubts eclipse. And if the common things of nature now Are like old faces flushed with new delight, Much more the consciousness of that rich vow Deepens the beauteous, and refines the bright, While throned I seem on love?s divinest height Mid all the glories glowing round its brow. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- VII. FAIR as the day?a genial day serene Of early summer, when the vital air Breathes as ?twere God?s own breath, and blossoms rare Fill many a bush, or nestle in between The heapy folds of nature?s mantle green, As they were happier for the joint joy the