The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
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A PARTING |
 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
A PARTING
Cold in the wintry gorges hangs the snow,
Keen through the withered woods the north winds blow
One rift of sun-ray falls with frigid beam,
And crisping ice makes sad the wimpling stream,
While deep in drifts the devious roads are dumb
Ere day has come.
Keen through the withered woods the north winds blow
One rift of sun-ray falls with frigid beam,
And crisping ice makes sad the wimpling stream,
While deep in drifts the devious roads are dumb
Ere day has come.
431
Thy lips are colder than a wintry morn,
And as hate so is love that turns to scorn.
Time in the wreck of ages rolling by
Must teach the pretty puny god to die,
And for our parting, since our lips are dumb,
The day has come.
And as hate so is love that turns to scorn.
Time in the wreck of ages rolling by
Must teach the pretty puny god to die,
And for our parting, since our lips are dumb,
The day has come.
O wasted love, whose bright and rosebud bloom
Must turn to dusty chambers of the tomb!
O ruined rose, that made the morning red,
Pass to the pallid precinct of the dead,
And for our parting, since our lips are dumb,
The end has come.
Must turn to dusty chambers of the tomb!
O ruined rose, that made the morning red,
Pass to the pallid precinct of the dead,
And for our parting, since our lips are dumb,
The end has come.
The sun is low; the night draws in apace;
And tear-like clouds hang on the sunset face.
Grief has pulled down our golden days, my lass,
Like a green windfall in the orchard grass.
Of all love's banquet have we kept a crumb,
Now the end has come?
And tear-like clouds hang on the sunset face.
Grief has pulled down our golden days, my lass,
Like a green windfall in the orchard grass.
Of all love's banquet have we kept a crumb,
Now the end has come?
Wasted and worn that passion must expire,
Which swept at sunrise like a sudden fire
Across the whitened crest of happy waves.
Now lonely in a labyrinth of graves,
His footsteps foiled, his spirit bound and numb,
Gray Love sits dumb.
Which swept at sunrise like a sudden fire
Across the whitened crest of happy waves.
Now lonely in a labyrinth of graves,
His footsteps foiled, his spirit bound and numb,
Gray Love sits dumb.
Shall we bewail in ashes, O my sweet,
How lame our youth where once he journeyed fleet?
Shall we lament this love that comes and goes?
'Tis but the petal of a bramble-rose.
Of all our kisses sure the end has come.
Love's lute be dumb!
How lame our youth where once he journeyed fleet?
Shall we lament this love that comes and goes?
'Tis but the petal of a bramble-rose.
Of all our kisses sure the end has come.
Love's lute be dumb!
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |