CLXXIV and CLXXV

"Mark how one string, sweet husband to another" and "On eyes that hold the fire and the rain"

A man may hate a member of a house,

but if he loves the house, he cannot thence

return to hatred of the man so spoused—

without at least a hint of his defense.

So, too, with brushstrokes. If you love a piece,

you may not love a bit of it as much;

but see if you will say your love has ceased—

you must if you will hate a part as such.

The whole is whole, and every part is one,

if hand or eye hath not been plucked by now.

Hate one of one, and all your love is done—

and hate the whole if hate’s what you allow.

But if you do not wish to hate a whole,

be curious at what’s the author’s goal.

~~~

Will you please look on me with those dark eyes?

Don’t look away, but do feel free to blink.

Is it compassion and concern that lies

deep-set in your dark gaze int’which I sink?

How is it that such darkness holds such care?

Who could have e’er believed that warmth unknown

could be so evident in these coals, where

the embers hid beneath are bellows-blown?

And how, like raindrops on a swath of sand,

they tap and nourish all this withered ground.

Their coolness soothes me at one look’s command,

and wets the dry sod where my eyes are found.

So, see why I’m in need of your dark eyes?

They hold the good of earth and of the skies.