| Although our love is
over, it remains
Although our love is over, it remains
An unfrequented garden in my heart,
Its beauty quite inseparable from pain,
A wilderness where once was willful art.
I hope a little piece of you is still
Reserved for me, a place you may not go,
But where my room, untenanted, can fill
A moment with my music, sweet and slow.
There are no wishes like a former lover's
That from the dark, repentant night must shine.
And so though we have both moved on to others,
I send you from afar this Valentine.
Here there are not tears enough
to tell you
All the love I have within my heart,
Plainly to proclaim my love before you,
Put with simple grace and little art.
Yet I must try, for love ought not be hidden,
Veiled for fear of nakedness if known,
Afraid to enter silences unbidden
Lest it should have to cross the stage alone.
Even so, love needs the wings of words:
No truth is not transfigured by expression.
The heart of love, like those of captured birds,
Interred too long succumbs to its depression.
Nor are words enough, for love is more
Elusive than a verbal net can hold,
Singing like a sea across my shore,
Dancing back, white fold on endless fold.
All I am and have I give to you,
Yet love is more, and more I cannot do. |
|
Be with
us in the circle of our love,
Even if by chance you are alone.
Our greetings we have hope your heart will move,
Uniting our good wishes with your own.
Remember there are those who think of you,
Vested in the will to be a friend.
As distant hills give depth to what we view,
Let these words some grace to your day lend.
Each life is lived behind a sheltering veil,
Not lifted but for love. Yet when we will,
There is a wind that shifts the rampart frail,
Invading with sweet scent the spirit still.
Now may we all enjoy this fragrance fine,
Each each other's secret Valentine.
How simple to be happy here in
heaven!
After all, one doesn't want for much.
Passion finds its willing partner, ever
Pleased to please with a deft and tender touch.
Yearning is like walking through a valley
Veiled in the loveliness of flowers.
All the beauty of the earth can only
Lead us to the edge of what is ours.
Etched into our love there is a message,
Not of now but of all time and place,
Telling of a truth beyond the passage
In which we move from mystery to grace.
Nor are there signs that such content can be
Except my love for you, and yours for me.
Very little love is lost in
living.
A star can fill a universe with light,
Lasting not one second less for giving
Each of us the gift of its delight.
Nor do we love ourselves the less for loving,
Taking others' pleasures for our own.
In love there is an ecstasy unmoving,
Neither more engaged nor less alone,
Eternal in its house of flesh and bone. |
|
Happiness is not a tended
rose
Amid the prescient beauty of a garden:
Perhaps one senses soon some gate may close;
Perhaps one senses soon the earth will harden.
Years come and go like waves upon a shore,
Violent or peaceful with the wind.
After one has given up on more,
Love waits within the heart, its passion thinned.
Even in a passage void of light,
Nether windings black with rage and grief,
There are waters sweet with lost delight
In which one finds a strong, serene belief.
No happiness can overcome life's pain
Except one love, and love give life again.
Love comes through the eyes that see
And through the ears that hear,
For people are quite beautiful,
And words make feelings clear.
Love comes through the hands that touch
With unabashed affection,
For only skin-to-skin can love
Maintain its true direction.
Love comes through the tastes and smells
Of fresh and well-cooked food,
For in the gift of nourishment
Is much else that is good.
But though love comes through senses five,
Love comes from the heart,
For there resides the greater love
Of which ours is a part.
Words can tell what hearts divine
This most romantic time of year:
So will you be my Valentine?
I'll be yours if you'll be
mine
Till golden moon meets midnight drear.
For words can tell what hearts divine
When air's perfume and
water's wine,
And cupids hover at one's ear:
So will you be my Valentine?
And do we feelings dare
define
In phrases adamant and clear?
For words can tell what hearts divine,
And souls can step across a
line
On days when angels wait to cheer:
So will you be my Valentine?
Ah, love! Let love this one
day shine
On fancies lush and passions sheer!
For words can tell what hearts divine:
So will you be my Valentine?
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