Page:Poems Cook.djvu/333

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LOVE.
The rude, bold savage, pouring forth his homage to the sun,
Asking for other "hunting-fields" when life's long chase is run—
The poet-boy who sitteth down upon the upland grass;
Whose eagle thoughts are nestled by the Zephyr wings that pass;—

The weak old man that creepeth out once more before he dies,
With longing wish to see and feel the sunlight in his eyes;—
Oh! these are the unerring types that Nature setteth up,
To tell that an elixir drop yet sanctifies our cup.

Love, beautiful and boundless Love! thou dwellest here below,
Teaching the human lip to smile-the violet to blow;
Thine is the breath ethereal that yet exhales and burns
In sinful breasts, as incense steals from dim, unsightly urns.

Thou art the holy, record seal that Time can ne'er annul;
The dove amid the vulture tribe—the lamp within the skull—
Thou art the one bright Spirit Thing that is not bought and sold;
The cherub elve that laugheth in the giant face of Gold.

Love—exquisite, undying Love—runs through Creation's span,
Gushing from countless springs to fill the ocean heart of Man;
And there it broadly rolleth on in deep unfathom'd flood;
Swelling with the Immortal Hope that craveth more of "Good."

It is the rich, magnetic spark yet shining in the dust;
The fair salvation ray of Faith that wins our joyful trust;
The watchword of the Infinite, left here to lead above;
That's ever seen and ever heard, and tells us "God is Love."

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