Love Song

More lovely is my love

Than yonder dove

Who flies so free.

Her voice is sweeter far

Than larks' notes are.

Ah, dear is she.

She sitteth in the sun,

And every one

Smiles up to God—

As when a lily rare

Springeth for prayer

Out of the sod.

Her hair enweaves the light

In woof as bright

As saints' brows wear.

Her soul through morning eyes

Explores the skies,

For truth is there.

Blest with glad thoughts, she waits

At life's swung gates

The call of love—

God's love or man's—ah me!

How white is she—

My flower, my dove!

How white is she! O heart,

Craven thou art.

Hark thee— be stilled!

The highest ranks of heaven—

God's circles seven—

Christ's love hath filled.

God hath no need of her;

She does not stir

When wide skies shine.

She lives for love. Awhile

Her solemn smile

Is ours— is mine!