I AM THE SONG OF LOVE

by: Joseph T. Shipley

AM the song of love.

I murmur gently in the secret places.

When the lovers breathe the gladness of the sky;

When they laugh, and the cause of their mirth is hidden;

When they are awing with the bird, adrift with the cloud, astir with the leaves and the blades of grass and the spring:

I am the song they sing.

 

I am the purl of their caresses.

I am the cry of the passion of love.

 

I swell through the ardor of embracing;

Tongue whispers me to tongue, and I rise in the breast of the maiden;

I throb in the arms that encircle;

I beat in the legs that entwine;

I climb to a roar of ecstatic flow, man to woman,

The full-bellowed call of life.

Before the panting diminish, and the blissful anguish die,

I am the passion cry.

 

I am the rhythm of their silences.

I am the sob of the sorrow of love.

When the tigress haunts the jungle of her mind, solitary, baffled,

When her mate is caged in convention; is exhibited upon the highways of life;

I am the moan of her loneliness,

I am the howl of his rage.

When the stars glow unheeded above a lone, bowed head;

When longing lovers watch the studded air--each viewing other constellations;

When the low bell of midnight falls on the listening, unexpectant ear,

And the lark proclaims anew the impotent day;

When absence lays its hoar-frost on the soul;

When death has come to rob:

I am the sorrow-sob.

 

I am the eternal ever-changing song of love.

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