Love's Flying Feet

Oh, follow Love's flying feet, —
They 're fleet as the Wind's and fleeter;
Oh, honey indeed is sweet.
But the kisses of Love are sweeter.

Oh, hark to the voice of Love!
The song of the lark as he rises,
Or the cry of the bird in a grove
That the light of a brooklet surprises

Is not so glad as Love's voice, —
That voice that of all things is gladdest, -
For it whispers of delicate joys,
And of raptures dearest and maddest.

Oh, look in Love's eyes that shine,
Alight with the whole world's splendor:
They are stars, intense and divine.
In a passionate heaven and tender.

Oh, worship Love while you may, —
For never a love-dream may follow,
Where, hid from the light of the day,
Man sleeps in his small earth-hollow.