 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
RETROSPECT
If we have pondered on a face,
In yonder age of simple days,
If burning lips of first embrace
Sealed us as pilgrims in love's ways:
In yonder age of simple days,
If burning lips of first embrace
Sealed us as pilgrims in love's ways:
The silly chains became us well,
When rosy lay the orchard roods,
And April buds began to swell,
And starlings thought about their broods.
When rosy lay the orchard roods,
And April buds began to swell,
And starlings thought about their broods.
The easy fetters bound us sweet;
The shrill lark dwindled overhead.
The land lay incense at our feet.
We did not dream upon the dead!
The shrill lark dwindled overhead.
The land lay incense at our feet.
We did not dream upon the dead!
With ardent cheek and earnest breath
We plighted unenduring vows;
And bound, instead of amaranth wreath,
Deciduous roses round our brows.
We plighted unenduring vows;
And bound, instead of amaranth wreath,
Deciduous roses round our brows.
Bud after bud descends to dust;
Those rare years sigh and go their way.
We leave our garlands, since we must,
When heads begin to gather grey.
Those rare years sigh and go their way.
We leave our garlands, since we must,
When heads begin to gather grey.
292
Then farewell, Love, for other skies,
We laud thee now we need thee least.
We will not be as guests, who rise,
And, risen, chide against a feast.
We laud thee now we need thee least.
We will not be as guests, who rise,
And, risen, chide against a feast.
Untainted we will always save
The sweet of thy memorial joy;
Let fools thy royal table leave
And soil the banquet with alloy.
The sweet of thy memorial joy;
Let fools thy royal table leave
And soil the banquet with alloy.
Go, harpy, with thy loathsome wing,
Go, cynic, with thy touch of mire!
We hold it an ignoble thing
To laugh against our old desire;
Go, cynic, with thy touch of mire!
We hold it an ignoble thing
To laugh against our old desire;
Ye seem to scorn Love's richer hour,
In envy half, but more in craft,
And wholly sullen: since your flower
Is withered on its autumn shaft.
In envy half, but more in craft,
And wholly sullen: since your flower
Is withered on its autumn shaft.
We least will ape this dotard's part,
Who sneers at love in aspen tone,
Who jests on his once wholesome heart,
And cheapens all who still have one.
Who sneers at love in aspen tone,
Who jests on his once wholesome heart,
And cheapens all who still have one.
He hardens in his selfish crust;
His blear eyes only understand
Three things as comely—wine, and lust,
And greed which guides the palsied hand.
His blear eyes only understand
Three things as comely—wine, and lust,
And greed which guides the palsied hand.
Irreverent, isolated thing!
Old scare-crow on the field of vice,
Some rags of youth around thee cling
To flutter in a land of ice!
Old scare-crow on the field of vice,
Some rags of youth around thee cling
To flutter in a land of ice!
Leave in his shrine, veiled round and sad,
The Amor of thy tender days.
Thank Heaven that once thou couldst be glad,
Be silent, if thou canst not praise.
The Amor of thy tender days.
Thank Heaven that once thou couldst be glad,
Be silent, if thou canst not praise.
Ah, crush not in with tainted feet:
Is thy thought cankered, keep away.
Tho' idols snap, and fair things fleet,
Leave one spot pure wherein to pray.
Is thy thought cankered, keep away.
Tho' idols snap, and fair things fleet,
Leave one spot pure wherein to pray.
293
Some day indeed, before thy last,
When all life's boughs are bare of fruit,
When mock and sneer are overpast,
And every shallow laugh is mute,
When all life's boughs are bare of fruit,
When mock and sneer are overpast,
And every shallow laugh is mute,
Come to this haven, and unveil
The imaged face thy youth held best,
Kneel down before it, have thy wail,
And crawl the better to thy rest.
The imaged face thy youth held best,
Kneel down before it, have thy wail,
And crawl the better to thy rest.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |