Time, like a spider, knows, be sure,
  One only wile, though he seems so wise: 
Death is his web, and Love his lure,
  And you and I his flies.

      ‘Love!’ he sings
    In the morning clear,
      ‘Love!  Love!  Love!’
    And you never hear
    How, under his breath,
    He whispers, ’Death! 
    Death!  Death!’

Yet Time—­’tis the strangest thing of all—­
  Knoweth not the sense of the words he saith;
Eternity taught him his parrot-call
  Of ‘Love and Death.’

Year after year doth the old man climb
  The mountainous knees of Eternity,
But Eternity telleth nothing to Time—­
  It may not be.

COR CORDIUM

O GOLDEN DAY!  O SILVER NIGHT!

O golden day!  O silver night! 
  That brought my own true love at last,
Ah, wilt thou drop from out our sight,
  And drown within the past?

One wave, no more, in life’s wide sea,
  One little nameless crest of foam,
The day that gave her all to me
  And brought us to our home.

Nay, rather as the morning grows
  In flush, and gleam, and kingly ray,
While up the heaven the sun-god goes,
  So shall ascend our day.

And when at last the long night nears,
  And love grows angel in the gloam,
Nay, sweetheart, what of fears and tears?—­
  The stars shall see us home.

LOVE’S EXCHANGE

Simple am I, I care no whit
  For pelf or place,
It is enough for me to sit
  And watch Dulcinea’s face;
To mark the lights and shadows flit
  Across the silver moon of it.

I have no other merchandise,
  No stocks or shares,
No other gold but just what lies
 In those deep eyes of hers;
And, sure, if all the world were wise,
It too would bank within her eyes.

I buy up all her smiles all day
  With all my love,
And sell them back, cost-price, or, say,
  A kiss or two above;
It is a speculation fine,
The profit must be always mine.

The world has many things, ’tis true,
  To fill its time,
Far more important things to do
  Than making love and rhyme;
Yet, if it asked me to advise,
I’d say—­buy up Dulcinea’s eyes!

TO A SIMPLE HOUSEWIFE

Who dough shall knead as for God’s sake
  Shall fill it with celestial leaven,
And every loaf that she shall bake
  Be eaten of the Blest in heaven.

LOVE’S WISDOM

Sometimes my idle heart would roam
  Far from its quiet happy nest,
To seek some other newer home,
  Some unaccustomed Best: 
But ere it spreads its foolish wings,
‘Heart, stay at home, be wise!’ Love’s wisdom sings.

Sometimes my idle heart would sail
  From out its quiet sheltered bay,
To tempt a less pacific gale,
  And oceans far away: 
But ere it shakes its foolish wings,
‘Heart, stay at home, be wise!’ Love’s wisdom sings.