 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
A SONG OF DUST
When we, my love, are gone to dust,
And nature, as of old, is fair:
When on thy rosy cheek is rust,
And stain sepulchral on thy hair.
And nature, as of old, is fair:
When on thy rosy cheek is rust,
And stain sepulchral on thy hair.
When from the slab, that marks our sleep,
The raindrop eats our names away:
And cushioned lichens gently creep
To make the beaming letters gray.
The raindrop eats our names away:
And cushioned lichens gently creep
To make the beaming letters gray.
When March winds wake the silken palm,
And wave-worn wheatears skim the sea.
When merles begin their marriage psalm,
And doves are tender in the tree.
And wave-worn wheatears skim the sea.
When merles begin their marriage psalm,
And doves are tender in the tree.
When, year by year, the mosses bloom
Their little elfin caps of red:
And April dewdrops on thy tomb
Weep out in daisies o'er the dead;
Their little elfin caps of red:
And April dewdrops on thy tomb
Weep out in daisies o'er the dead;
These tears, I weep upon thy hand,
Shall pass as leaves in autumn air.
And who unborn shall understand,
If thou wert sweet, if thou wert fair?
Shall pass as leaves in autumn air.
And who unborn shall understand,
If thou wert sweet, if thou wert fair?
391
Who shall embahn thee in a song
A hundred years to cheat repose?
Oblivion rolls its flood along,
Till Time forgets one wasted rose.
A hundred years to cheat repose?
Oblivion rolls its flood along,
Till Time forgets one wasted rose.
Who shall explain this lovely thing
To generations yet to be?
Will evanescent beauty wing
Her flight to dim futurity?
To generations yet to be?
Will evanescent beauty wing
Her flight to dim futurity?
No lease is hers of lengthened hours:
Her love a momentary ray,
Crisping the calyx of the flowers,
Is sped before the lift of day.
Her love a momentary ray,
Crisping the calyx of the flowers,
Is sped before the lift of day.
A little while the whitethorn blows,
And all the grasses rarely spring.
Then crimsons out the wild field rose,
And swallows rest their travelled wing.
And all the grasses rarely spring.
Then crimsons out the wild field rose,
And swallows rest their travelled wing.
And fair are maidens in their prime;
And lovers pledge eternal truth,
When for an hour the cup of Time
Is nectar on the lips of youth.
And lovers pledge eternal truth,
When for an hour the cup of Time
Is nectar on the lips of youth.
Love and the nest of birds are sweet;
Till, like a broken hope, the flower,
Warm at the early sunbeam's feet,
Lies shattered cold at evening's hour.
Till, like a broken hope, the flower,
Warm at the early sunbeam's feet,
Lies shattered cold at evening's hour.
No perfect joy thy life endears.
What light is thine? Some casual gleam,
Which, rising thro' a mist of tears,
Falls on the phantoms of thy dream.
What light is thine? Some casual gleam,
Which, rising thro' a mist of tears,
Falls on the phantoms of thy dream.
All shall forget thee, as a breath
From clover meadows richly shed;
Divine as coloured evening's death,
Thy cheek will lose its lustrous red.
From clover meadows richly shed;
Divine as coloured evening's death,
Thy cheek will lose its lustrous red.
Pale as a wreath of alpine snows,
She lies in marble silence sweet,
When rigid Death doth interpose
The stark and long-drawn winding sheet.
She lies in marble silence sweet,
When rigid Death doth interpose
The stark and long-drawn winding sheet.
392
O region of the moonless grave,
Lonely and lurid is thy home,
Where Love, who came so fresh and brave,
Is narrowed in with shelving loam.
Lonely and lurid is thy home,
Where Love, who came so fresh and brave,
Is narrowed in with shelving loam.
Love old and gray and nearly blind
Among the mounds, whose bleeding feet
The fangs of winding brambles bind,
The hooks of bitter roses meet.
Among the mounds, whose bleeding feet
The fangs of winding brambles bind,
The hooks of bitter roses meet.
And Pride, with all her trophies torn,
Hangs o'er a funeral urn to weep
The devious night, the tardy morn,
Belated in the paths of sleep.
Hangs o'er a funeral urn to weep
The devious night, the tardy morn,
Belated in the paths of sleep.
And eyes, that dim the violet made,
Forget to shed their gracious rays:
When, on each darkened eyelid's shade,
The midnight of oblivion weighs.
Forget to shed their gracious rays:
When, on each darkened eyelid's shade,
The midnight of oblivion weighs.
The ages in an endless tide
Advance their still encroaching feet:
The present, like a golden bride,
Is faultless for an hour and sweet.
Advance their still encroaching feet:
The present, like a golden bride,
Is faultless for an hour and sweet.
Time will not stay for thee, my love,
The clouds are coming and the snow;
The thunder rocks the realms above—
One farewell kiss before we go.
The clouds are coming and the snow;
The thunder rocks the realms above—
One farewell kiss before we go.
A song of dust for waning years,
A solemn song in sackcloth clad:
Whose chords are wet with poignant tears,
And its pale singer's lips are sad.
A solemn song in sackcloth clad:
Whose chords are wet with poignant tears,
And its pale singer's lips are sad.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |