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Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge

Lodge, George Cabot (1873-1909)

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VOLUME I
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THE SONG OF THE WAVE AND OTHER POEMS
  
[dedication]
  
EXORDIUM
  
A FIRST WORD
  
THE OCEAN SINGS
  
THE SONG OF THE WAVE
  
THE EAST WIND
  
THE NORSEMEN
  
“WAS HAT MAN DIR, DU ARMES KIND, GETHAN?”
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THE SONG OF THE SWORD
  
BALLAD
  
DAWN
  
SUNSET
  
THE GATES OF LIFE
  
MOTHERS OF MEN
  
LOVE IN AGE
  
A MEMORY
  
AGE
  
EVENING
  
TO A WOMAN
  
THE END
  
NEANT
  
YOUTH
  
SERENADE
  
SONG
  
SONG
  
[Silent, alone! Around the wrinkled earth]
  
THEY
  
TO A BUST OF THE MATER DOLOROSA
  
TO PSYCHE
  
THE WILL
  
TUCKANUCK
  
PASTORAL
  
FALL
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SONNETS
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I TO SILENCE
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II TO THE EARTH
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III ESSEX
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IV ESSEX
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[V Toward thine Eastern window when the morn]
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VI FOG AT SEA
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VII NIRVANA
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VIII NIRVANA
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IX PASSING DAYS
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X ON AN ÆOLIAN HARP
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XI THE SPHINX
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[XII Whiles were, I almost seemed to understand]
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XIII TO THE MEMORY OF W. H. P.
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XIV INSOMNIA
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[XV I stood upon the old Earth's breast and gazed]
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[XVI Our lips are laughing while our eyes are wet]
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XVII THE GATE OF DREAMS
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XVIII TO GIACOMO LEOPARDI
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XIX TO J. T. S.
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XX TO THE CHILDREN OF THE MUSE
 21. 
XXI L'ENFANT DU SIÈCLE
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XXII AUX MODERNES
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XXIII AUX MODERNES
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[XXIV Of this that I have written none is mine]
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XXV TO A STATUE
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XXVI A DREAM
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XXVII “ELI! ELI! LAMA SABACTHANI!”
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XXVIII DANTE
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XXIX LOVE
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XXX LOVE
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[XXXI I dreamed of Thee, O Wonder, with the sheen]
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[XXXII She came once only in a dream of death]
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[XXXIII The low moon quivers on the hyacinth sky,]
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[XXXIV Tell me again, and then lift up to me]
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[XXXV Give me thy pitiful, soft-moulded hand]
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[XXXVI If I have touched thy heart, as Solomon]
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XXXVII TOO SOON
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XXXVIII TOO LATE
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XXXIX THE NIGHT-WIND
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[XL And they shall say to thee, “He died distraught]
  
A LAST WORD
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POEMS (1899–1902)
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CAIN
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VOLUME II

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101

XXVIII
DANTE

Thy voice—all its least tones, the strain and stir
Measured and ardent, and the mighty trend
Outward upon a light-pervaded end,
Gained through the fields of flame and hideous blur.
Thou art sonorous as the shuddering fir
Thwarting the tempest, nor thy metres bend
Under their splendid freight, when thou dost blend
Power and light and love to speak of Her.
Inward thy flame arose and strong with strife
Shone in thy words—thou art to me as life,
Beaten, renewed with hope, and undestroyed.
Thy voice comes pure to me as waters falling,
Swells till it seems I hear the Seraph calling
Through open spaces of the dayless void.
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