 | Time's Whisperings |  |
33
WHEN LOVE SHALL BIND.
When love shall bind at length thine errant soul,Thou shalt be mine beyond all need of song,
Beyond all speech—life's tides fast onward roll;
We leave behind full many a conquered goal,
Climbing fierce upward heights with footstep strong.
It may be that no more my voice may sound
Soon for thee, no more these swift songs abound;
No more thy feet bruise blossoms in a throng—
I reach at length the poets' mountain-ground
Of three-and-thirty summers when they long
To pass, and do pass often, pale and crowned,
Towards spheres where folly of earth no further wrong
Can work upon them; let my words have weight,
Spoken now ten years nearer death's sure gate.
35
BEATRICE.
Yea, Beatrice, thou art—and I thy bard,
Thy Dante—yet for once within the night
I may thy true name whisper with delight;
And the soft cloak of poesy discard.
O, truly, lady gentle, it were hard
Ever to call thee Beatrice, and sing thee
Disguised, remote, unknown, obscure, nor bring thee
Forth to the triumph that slow years retard.
Thy Dante—yet for once within the night
I may thy true name whisper with delight;
And the soft cloak of poesy discard.
O, truly, lady gentle, it were hard
Ever to call thee Beatrice, and sing thee
Disguised, remote, unknown, obscure, nor bring thee
Forth to the triumph that slow years retard.
Beneath the silent, awful sky of morn
Vanish thou Beatrice—my love, be born!
Beneath the stars and hallowing calm of night
Shine thou with her one star, a star more bright!
Rose of sweet summer, lily of love's dream,
Swifter than her's thine English glances gleam!
Vanish thou Beatrice—my love, be born!
Beneath the stars and hallowing calm of night
Shine thou with her one star, a star more bright!
Rose of sweet summer, lily of love's dream,
Swifter than her's thine English glances gleam!
39
ALONG THE AGES.
How fair along the ages shine the flowers,Loved of the poets—tenderly we read
E'en in these modern passionless swift hours,
The strain wherein great Dante's heart did bleed
For Beatrice—we mark the eager speed
Wherewith his laurelled lady Petrarch sung—
Then English minstrels softly did succeed—
Came gentle Spenser with the golden tongue
And the high sonnet-hymn of Shakespeare rung—
Oh, that my chanting might add one flower more,
One blossom whose dear wholesome roots have clung
To English soil, to blossoms loved of yore—
Rich were our women-blossoms in those days,
Yet eyes as sweet demand as passionate praise.
42
THROUGH THE FAR-OFF GATES.
O, wilt thou meet one day within the hallsOf heaven the golden-haired, supreme delight,
Whose voice through Spenser's song to the ages calls?
Wilt thou, my lady of the sea-glance bright,
Take 'mid those heavenly bowers thy place by right,
Borne on the wide waves of my fearless singing
Through time's vain-struggling armies clothed in night?
To-day thy soft arms unto me are clinging,
And in mine ears thy silver laugh is ringing,
Lifted I am in spirit beyond all measure;
Lo! through the far-off gold gates I am bringing
A new-born, heaven-august impassioned treasure;
I set my love, my lady of song, my bride,
In heaven, at Dante's Beatrice's side.
| Time's Whisperings | |