You are a steadying hand on me,
And guide ne straight along.
I am a joy to you, fulfilling your life’s song.
You are my moon and stars,
I am your sun.
We are a mirrored two
Framed into one.
Our lives are good, but better, we can see,
When I’m alive in you, as you in me.
Oh, lovely, lovely, lovely,
You soft October rain,
With touch of cool within your voice,
“I win again!”
Oh, win again, again, again,
Upon my lips and eyes!
Ah, to see through mist again within fall’s Paradise!
How silently the day dies.
It dies and dies away,
Smooth, serenely, easy,
And the last boat goes,
Goes serenely up,
Up the stream,
Serenely, as in a dream,
While the last light dies.
It dies and dies away.
When something happens l don’t want,
And all because of me,
I start to yell, and scream and pant,
Because l did not see.
And no one knows my anger is
For hurt inside of me.
But, maybe father, and maybe mother,
Will look with seeing eye,
And tell me what l know to be,
So real, that I can cry.
And when I’ve gone and cried a ton
Some happy knowledge l’ll have won.
Such beautiful poems I wrote last year
For you, and only you, my precious dear,
With love so genuine, deep and true,
And my whole soul in love with you,
And every thought and feeling said
I love you from your toes up to your head,
But mostly I love lips and eyes ideal
That make me spin around and reel,
Till I am almost upside down,
A lover like a funny clown,
Who yet does love you for your soul
So beautiful, wonderful, good and whole,
And yet that saucy look you give
Is my whole reason why I live.
Pleasure of eyes and of lips and of hands,
Of the mind that seizes and understands
That the joy of the senses bears no ill
To the hands that take for the spirit’s fill,
As the lips of two lovers inclosing meet
To agree in a moment on aim so sweet,
In commitment to goodness of life made great
By their nakedest beauty and holiest state
Of the man the god and the goddess she,
Who are starters and ends of morality.
These heroical two who out-leapt the crowd
And were never made ugly with guilt and shroud,
And who never accepted that joy was bad,
Or that pleasure was cover for deeper sad,
These most splendid and clean and out-laughing two—
These are the reasons the world is new!