Songs of Thomas Lovell Beddoes

       A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
His shafts are light as beauty's sighs,
And bright as midnight's brightest eyes,
        And round his starry way 
The swan-winged horses of the skies,
With summer's music in their manes,
Curve their fair necks to zephyr's reins,
        And urge their graceful play.

        A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
The sparrows flutter round his wrist.
The feathery thieves that Venus kissed
        And taught their morning song, 
The linnets seek the airy list,
And swallows too, small pets of Spring,
Beat back the gale with swifter wing,
        And dart and wheel along.

        A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
Now woe to every gnat that skips
To filch the fruit of ladies' lips,
        His felon blood is shed; 
And woe to flies, whose airy ships
On beauty cast their anchoring bite,
And bandit wasp, that naughty wight,
        Whose sting is slaughter-red.

If thou [wilt]1 ease thine heart
Of love and all its smart,
   Then sleep, dear, sleep;
And not a sorrow
   Hang any tear on your eyelashes;
   Lie still and [deep,]2
   Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes
The rim o' th' sun tomorrow,
   In eastern sky.

But [wilt]1 thou cure thine heart
Of love and all its smart,
   Then die, dear, die;
'Tis deeper, sweeter,
   Than on a rose bank to lie dreaming
   [With folded eye;]3
   And then alone, amid the beaming
Of love's stars, thou'lt meet her
   In eastern sky.

To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er;
  The wanton water leaps in sport,
And rattles down the pebbly shore;
  The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,
And unseen Mermaids' pearly song
Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.
  Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:
  To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er.
 
To sea, to sea! our wide-wing'd bark
  Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,
And with its shadow, fleet and dark,
  Break the cav'd Tritons' azure day,
Like mighty eagle soaring light
O'er antelopes on Alpine height.
  The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,
  The sails swell full. To sea, to sea!

How many times do I love thee, dear?
   Tell me how many thoughts there be
         In the atmosphere
         Of a new-fall'n year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
   The latest flake of Eternity: --
So many times do I love thee, dear.

How many times do I love again?
   Tell me how many beads there are
         In a silver chain
         Of evening rain,
Unravelled from the tumbling main,
   And threading the eye of a yellow star: --
So many times do I love again.