Stanzas
Could Love for everRun like a river,And Time's endeavourBe tried in vain--No other pleasureWith this could measure;And like a treasureWe'd hug the chain.But since our sighingEnds not in dying,And, formed for flying,Love plumes his wing;Then for this reasonLet's love a season;But let that season be only Spring.
When lovers partedFeel broken-hearted,And, all hopes thwarted,Expect to die;A few years older,Ah! how much colderThey might behold herFor whom they sigh!When linked together,In every weather,They pluck Love's featherFrom out his wing--He'll stay for ever,But sadly shiverWithout his plumage, when past the Spring.
Like Chiefs of Faction,His life is action--A formal pactionThat curbs his reign,Obscures his glory,Despot no more, heSuch territoryQuits with disdain.Still, still advancing,With banners glancing,His power enhancing,He must move on--Repose but cloys him,Retreat destroys him,Love brooks not a degraded throne.
Wait not, fond lover!Till years are over,And then recoverAs from a dream.While each bewailingThe other's failing.With wrath and railing,All hideous seem--While first decreasing,Yet not quite ceasing,Wait not till teasing,All passion blight:If once diminishedLove's reign is finished--Then part in friendship,--and bid good-night.
So shall AffectionTo recollectionThe dear connectionBring back with joy:You had not waitedTill, tired or hated,Your passions satedBegan to cloy.Your last embracesLeave no cold traces--The same fond facesAs through the past:And eyes, the mirrorsOf your sweet errors,Reflect but rapture--not least though last.
True, separationsAsk more than patience;What desperationsFrom such have risen!But yet remaining,What is't but chainingHearts which, once waning,Beat 'gainst their prison?Time can but cloy love,And use destroy love:The wingéd boy, Love,Is but for boys--You'll find it tortureThough sharper, shorter,To wean, and not wear out your joys.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.