Poems (Cromwell)/Love
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For works with similar titles, see Love.
LOVE
Hush, hush, O wind!
Between the leaves you creep,
You grope like something blind.
The tree tops as they sleep,
The standing spears of grass,
You'll touch them when you pass.
Between the leaves you creep,
You grope like something blind.
The tree tops as they sleep,
The standing spears of grass,
You'll touch them when you pass.
Still, still, O love!
My need awaits your dower,
My foolish heart your power;
Though sorrow dawn anew
I may not strive with you.
My need awaits your dower,
My foolish heart your power;
Though sorrow dawn anew
I may not strive with you.