The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 124 : SONGS ASCENDING Love has been sung a thousand ways-- So let it be; The songs ascending

SONGS ASCENDING

Love has been sung a thousand ways-- So let it be; The songs ascending in your praise Through all my days Are three.

Your cloud-white body first I sing; Your love was heaven's blue, And I, a bird, flew carolling In ring on ring Of you.

Your nearness is the second song; When G.o.d began to be, And bound you strongly, right or wrong, With his own thong, To me.

But oh, the song, eternal, high, That tops these two!-- You live forever, you who die, I am not I But you.

Witter Bynner [1881-

SONG

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown.

Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down."-- But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high.

So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!"-- But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay.

So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.

And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet.

For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.

Rupert Brooke [1887-1915]

SONG

How do I love you?

I do not know.

Only because of you Gladly I go.

Only because of you Labor is sweet, And all the song of you Sings in my feet.

Only the thought of you Trembles and lies Just where the world begins-- Under my eyes.

Irene Rutherford McLeod [1891-

TO... IN CHURCH

If I was drawn here from a distant place, 'Twas not to pray nor hear our friend's address, But, gazing once more on your winsome face, To wors.h.i.+p there Ideal Loveliness.

On that pure shrine that has too long ignored The gifts that once I brought so frequently I lay this votive offering, to record How sweet your quiet beauty seemed to me.

Enchanting girl, my faith is not a thing By futile prayers and vapid psalm-singing To vent in crowded nave and public pew.

My creed is simple: that the world is fair, And beauty the best thing to wors.h.i.+p there, And I confess it by adoring you.

Alan Seeger [1888-1916]

AFTER TWO YEARS

She is all so slight And tender and white As a May morning.

She walks without hood At dusk. It is good To hear her sing.

It is G.o.d's will That I shall love her still As He loves Mary.

And night and day I will go forth to pray That she love me.

She is as gold Lovely, and far more cold.

Do thou pray with me, For if I win grace To kiss twice her face G.o.d has done well to me.

Richard Aldington [1892-

PRAISE

Dear, they are praising your beauty, The gra.s.s and the sky: The sky in a silence of wonder, The gra.s.s in a sigh.

I too would sing for your praising, Dearest, had I Speech as the whispering gra.s.s, Or the silent sky.

These have an art for the praising Beauty so high.

Sweet, you are praised in a silence, Sung in a sigh.

Seumas O'Sullivan [1879-

PLAINTS AND PROTESTATIONS