BEST LOVED POEMS

by Richard Charlton MacKenzie

A Saturday and Monday;

  For then I’m drest all in my best,

  To walk abroad with Sally;

  She is the darling of my heart,

  And she lives in our alley.

  My master carries me to Church,

  And often I am blamed

  Because I leave him in the lurch

  As soon as text is named;

  I leave the Church in sermon-time,

  And slink away to Sally;

  She is the darling of my heart,

  And she lives in our alley.

  When Christmas comes about again,

  O then I shall have money;

  I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,

  I’ll give it to my honey;

  I would it were ten thousand pound,

  I’d give it all to Sally;

  She is the darling of my heart,

  And she lives in our alley.

  My master and the neighbours all

  Make game of me and Sally,

  And, but for her, I’d better be

  A slave and row a galley;

  But when my seven long years are out,

  O then I’ll marry Sally,—

  O then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed …

  But not in our alley!

  HENRY CAREY

  ANSWER TO A CHILD’S QUESTION Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,

  The linnet and thrush say, “I love and I love!”

  In the winter they’re silent—the wind is so strong;

  What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.

  But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,

  And singing, and loving—all come back together,

  But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,

  The green fields below him, the blue sky above,

  That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he—

  “I love my Love, and my Love loves me!”

  SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

  MISS YOU Miss you, miss you, miss you;

  Everything I do

  Echoes with the laughter

  And the voice of you.

  You’re on every corner,

  Every turn, and twist,

  Every old familiar spot

  Whispers how you’re missed.

  Miss you, miss you, miss you.

  Everywhere I go

  There are poignant memories

  Dancing in a row,

  Silhouette and shadow

  Of your form and face

  Substance and reality

  Everywhere displace.

  Oh, I miss you, miss you!

  How I miss you, Girl!

  There’s a strange, sad silence

  ’Mid the busy whirl,

  Just as tho’ the ordinary,

  Daily things I do

  Wait with me, expectant,

  For a word from you.

  Miss you, miss you, miss you!

  Nothing now seems true,

  Only that ’twas Heaven

  Just to be with you.

  DAVID CORY

  DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS,

  TENDER AND TRUE Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,

  In the old likeness that I knew,

  I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,

  Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

  Never a scornful word should grieve ye,

  I’d smile on ye sweet as the angels do,

  Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,

  Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

  O, to call back the days that are not!

  My eyes were blinded, your words were few;

  Do you know the truth now up in heaven,

  Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

  I never was worthy of you, Douglas;

  Not half worthy the like of you;

  Now all men beside seem to me like shadows—

  I love you, Douglas, tender and true.

  Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,

  Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,

  As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,

  Douglas,Douglas, tender and true.

  DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK

  FRIENDSHIP Oh, the comfort—the inexpressible comfort

  of feeling safe with a person,

  Having neither to weigh thoughts,

  Nor measure words—but pouring them

  All right out—just as they are—

  Chaff and grain together—

  Certain that a faithful hand will

  Take and sift them—

  Keep what is worth keeping—

  And with the breath of kindness

  Blow the rest away.

  DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK

  LOVE I love you,

  Not only for what you are,

  But for what I am

  When I am with you.

  I love you,

  Not only for what

  You have made of yourself,

  But for what

  You are making of me.

  I love you

  For the part of me

  That you bring out;

  I love you

  For putting your hand

  Into my heaped-up heart

  And passing over

  All the foolish, weak things

  That you can’t help

  Dimly seeing there,

  And for drawing out

  Into the light

  All the beautiful belongings

  That no one else had looked

  Quite far enough to find.

  I love you because you

  Are helping me to make

  Of the lumber of my life

  Not a tavern

  But a temple;

  Out of the works

  Of my every day

  Not a reproach

  But a song.

  I love you

  Because you have done

  More than any creed

  Could have done

  To make me good,

  And more than any fate

  Could have done

  To make me happy.

  You have done it

  Without a touch,

  Without a word,

  Without a sign.

  You have done it

  By being yourself.

  Perhaps that is what

  Being a friend means,

  After all.

  ROY CROFT

  TO A FRIEND You entered my life in a casual way,

  And saw at a glance what I needed;

  There were others who passed me or met me each day,

  But never a one of them heeded.

  Perhaps you were thinking of other folks more,

  Or chance simply seemed to decree it;

  I know there were many such chances before,

  But the others—well, they didn’t see it.

  You said just the thing that I wished you would say,

  And you made me believe that you meant it;

  I held up my head in the old gallant way,

  And resolved you should never repent it.

  There are times when encouragement means such a lot,

  And a word is enough to convey it;

  There were others who could have, as easy as not—

  But, just the same, they didn’t say it.

  There may have been someone who could have done more

  To help me along, though I doubt it;

  What I needed was cheering, and always before

  They had let me plod onward without it.

  You helped to refashion the dream of my heart,

  And made me turn eagerly to it;

  There were others who might have (I question that part)—

  But, after all, they didn’t do it!

  GRACE STRICKLER DAWSON

  NON SUM QUALIS ERAM

  BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine

  There fell thy shad
ow, Cynara! Thy breath was shed

  Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;

  And I was desolate and sick of an old passion—

  Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head.

  I have been faithful to thee, Cynara!—In my fashion.

  All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,

  Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;

  Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;

  But I was desolate and sick of an old passion—

  When I woke and found the dawn was gray:

  I have been faithful to thee, Cynara!—In my fashion.

  I have forgot much, Cynara! Gone with the wind,

  Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,

  Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;

  But I was desolate and sick of an old passion—

  Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:

  I have been faithful to thee, Cynara!—In my fashion.

  I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,

  But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,

  Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! The night is thine;

  And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,

  Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:

  I have been faithful to thee, Cynara!—In my fashion.

  ERNEST DOWSON

  I WANT YOU I want you when the shades of eve are falling

  And purpling shadows drift across the land;

  When sleepy birds to loving mates are calling—

  I want the soothing softness of your hand.

  I want you when the stars shine up above me,

  And Heaven’s flooded with the bright moonlight;

  I want you with your arms and lips to love me

  Throughout the wonder watches of the night.

  I want you when in dreams I still remember

  The ling’ring of your kiss—for old times’ sake—

  With all your gentle ways, so sweetly tender,

  I want you in the morning when I wake.

  I want you when the day is at its noontime,

  Sun-steeped and quiet, or drenched with sheets of rain;

  I want you when the roses bloom in June-time;

  I want you when the violets come again.

  I want you when my soul is thrilled with passion;

  I want you when I’m weary and depressed;

  I want you when in lazy, slumbrous fashion

  My senses need the haven of your breast.

  I want you when through field and wood I’m roaming;

  I want you when I’m standing on the shore;

  I want you when the summer birds are homing—

  And when they’ve flown—I want you more and more.

  I want you, dear, through every changing season

  I want you with a tear or with a smile;

  I want you more than any rhyme or reason—

  I want you, want you, want you—all the while.

  ARTHUR L. GILLOM

  SONG A place in thy memory, dearest,

  Is all that I claim,

  To pause and look back when thou hearest

  The sound of my name.

  Another may woo thee nearer,

  Another may win and wear;

  I care not, though he be dearer,

  If I am remembered there.

  Could I be thy true lover, dearest,

  Couldst thou smile on me,

  I would be the fondest and nearest

  That ever loved thee.

  But a cloud o’er my pathway is glooming

  Which never must break upon thine,

  And Heaven, which made thee all blooming,

  Ne’er made thee to wither on mine.

  Remember me not as a lover

  Whose fond hopes are crossed,

  Whose bosom can never recover

  The light it has lost;

  As the young bride remembers the mother

  She loves, yet never may see,

  As a sister remembers a brother,

  Oh, dearest, remember me.

  GERALD GRIFFIN

  ANY WIFE OR HUSBAND Let us be guests in one another’s house.

  With deferential “No” and courteous “Yes;”

  Let us take care to hide our foolish moods

  Behind a certain show of cheerfulness.

  Let us avoid all sullen silences;.

  We should find fresh and sprightly things to say

  I must be fearful lest you find me dull,

  And you must dread to bore me any way.

  Let us knock gently at each other’s heart,

  Glad of a chance to look within—and yet

  Let us remember that to force one’s way

  Is the unpardoned breach of etiquette.

  So shall I be hostess—you, the host—

  Until all need for entertainment ends;

  We shall be lovers when the last door shuts,

  But what is better still—we shall be friends.

  CAROL HAYNES

  TO DIANEME Give me one kiss,

  And no more;

  If so be, this

  Makes you poor;

  To enrich you,

  I’ll restore

  For that one, two

  Thousand score.

  ROBERT HERRICK

  THE NIGHT PIECE, TO JULIA Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,

  The shooting stars attend thee;

  And the elves also,

  Whose little eyes glow

  Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

  No will-o’-th’-wisp mis-light thee,

  Nor snake, or slow-worm bite thee;

  But on, on thy way

  Not making a stay,

  Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.

  Let not the dark thee cumber;

  What though the moon does slumber?

  The stars of the night

  Will lend thee their light,

  Like tapers clear without number.

  Then, Julia, let me woo thee,

  Thus, thus to come unto me;

  And when I shall meet

  Thy silv’ry feet,

  My soul I’ll pour into thee.

  ROBERT HERRICK

  TO ANTHEA, WHO MAY

  COMMAND HIM ANYTHING Bid me live, and I will live

  Thy protestant to be;

  Or bid me love, and I will give

  A loving heart to thee.

  A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

  A heart as sound and free

  As in the whole world thou canst find,

  That heart I’ll give to thee.

  Bid that heart stay, and it will stay

  To honor thy decree;

  Or bid it languish quite away,

  And ’t shall do so for thee.

  Bid me to weep, and I will weep

  While I have eyes to see;

  And having none, yet I will keep

  A heart to weep for thee.

  Bid me despair, and I’ll despair

  Under that cypress tree;

  Or bid me die, and I will dare

  E’en death, to die for thee.

  Thou art my life, my love, my heart,

  The very eyes of me;

  And hast command of every part,

  To live and die for thee.

  ROBERT HERRICK

  WHENAS IN SILKS MY JULIA GOES Whenas in silks my Julia goes,

  Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows

  That liquefaction of her clothes.

  Next, when I cast mine eyes and see

  That brave vibration each way free,

  Oh, how that glittering taketh me!

  ROBERT HERRICK

  KASHMIRI SONG Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar,

  Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?

  Whom do you lead on Rapture’s Roadway, far,

  Before you agonize them in farewell?

 
Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains,

  Holding the doors of Heaven and Hell,

  How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins

  Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell.

  Pale hands, pink-tipped, like lotus buds that float

  On those cool waters where we used to dwell,

  I would have rather felt you round my throat

  Crushing out life than waving me farewell!

  LAURENCE HOPE

  JENNY KISSED ME Jenny kissed me when we met,

  Jumping from the chair she sat in.

  Time, you thief! who love to get

  Sweets into your list, put that in.

  Say I’m weary, say I’m sad;

  Say that health and wealth have missed me;

  Say I’m growing old, but add—

  Jenny kissed me!

  LEIGH HUNT

  WE HAVE LIVED AND

  LOVED TOGETHER We have lived and loved together

  Through many changing years;

  We have shared each other’s gladness

  And wept each other’s tears;

  I have known ne’er a sorrow

  That was long unsoothed by thee;

  For thy smiles can make a summer

  Where darkness else would be.

  Like the leaves that fall around us

  In autumn’s fading hours,

  Are the traitor’s smiles, that darken

  When the cloud of sorrow lowers;

  And though many such we’ve known, love,

  Too prone, alas, to range,

  We both can speak of one love

  Which time can never change.

  We have lived and loved together

  Through many changing years

  We have shared each other’s gladness

  And wept each other’s tears.