A DAY OF LOVE

Those envied places which do know her well,

And are so scornful of this lonely place,

Even now for once are emptied of her grace:

Nowhere but here she is: and while Love's spell

From his predominant presence doth compel

All alien hours, an outworn populace,

The hours of Love fill full the echoing space

With sweet confederate music favourable.

Now many memories make solicitous

The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit

With quivering fire, the words take wing from it;

As here between our kisses we sit thus

Speaking of things remembered, and so sit

Speechless while things forgotten call to us.