 | Love-Songs |  |
81
A FAREWELL TO POETRY.
I take within mine hand
The relics of the land
Of dreams and songs and hopes and fair past glory;
I gather all the past
And round about it cast
A mistlike robe of soft remembrance hoary;
My singing days I bind
Together, and swift wind
In one the golden threads of life's fast-deepening story.
The relics of the land
Of dreams and songs and hopes and fair past glory;
I gather all the past
And round about it cast
A mistlike robe of soft remembrance hoary;
My singing days I bind
Together, and swift wind
In one the golden threads of life's fast-deepening story.
Dear blossoms, roses red,
That once about my head
Waved with a flood of soft caressing splendour,
I bid you all farewell;
Yea, to each flower that fell
Upon youth's brows from heaven with flower-touch tender;
A long goodbye to all—
White roses, lilies tall;
I would not fail to one sweet final thanks to render.
That once about my head
Waved with a flood of soft caressing splendour,
I bid you all farewell;
Yea, to each flower that fell
Upon youth's brows from heaven with flower-touch tender;
A long goodbye to all—
White roses, lilies tall;
I would not fail to one sweet final thanks to render.
82
O ferns and meadow-sweet,
O rivulets that beat
With silvery footing once amid the grasses,
A long, long, long goodbye!
O many a sunset sky,
O giant purple clouds in heaped-up masses,
O seas that climbed and surged,
By wintry storm-blasts urged,
Farewell—ere from you all my mortal vision passes!
O rivulets that beat
With silvery footing once amid the grasses,
A long, long, long goodbye!
O many a sunset sky,
O giant purple clouds in heaped-up masses,
O seas that climbed and surged,
By wintry storm-blasts urged,
Farewell—ere from you all my mortal vision passes!
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye—
Blue perfect summer sky,
And all the dreams of youth and hopes that wandered
Towards heaven on sun-bright wings:
A new chant in me rings,
And gone are the old ecstasies I pondered;
Farewell, ye high designs,
The wreath that manhood twines
Is better than the leaves youth wildly plucked and squandered.
Blue perfect summer sky,
And all the dreams of youth and hopes that wandered
Towards heaven on sun-bright wings:
A new chant in me rings,
And gone are the old ecstasies I pondered;
Farewell, ye high designs,
The wreath that manhood twines
Is better than the leaves youth wildly plucked and squandered.
O happy days of song
That, when my heart was strong,
Brought me life's holiest rest and sweetest treasure,
For ever, now, farewell:
The silent time-waves swell,
And their foam-crests no man can pass or measure
Beyond the singing days,
Beyond the need of bays,
Urge me—towards death's sublime unidle wakeful leisure.
That, when my heart was strong,
Brought me life's holiest rest and sweetest treasure,
For ever, now, farewell:
The silent time-waves swell,
And their foam-crests no man can pass or measure
Beyond the singing days,
Beyond the need of bays,
Urge me—towards death's sublime unidle wakeful leisure.
83
To those who love, I leave
What my hand doth achieve
Of passionate pure love-praise and worthy singing:
The lovers who shall come
When this my voice is dumb
Shall hear in song faint echoes of it ringing,
And I shall seem to be
In heaven or on the sea,
Or in the blossoms round their ladies' white brows clinging.
What my hand doth achieve
Of passionate pure love-praise and worthy singing:
The lovers who shall come
When this my voice is dumb
Shall hear in song faint echoes of it ringing,
And I shall seem to be
In heaven or on the sea,
Or in the blossoms round their ladies' white brows clinging.
Oh, am I not a part
Of England's songful heart,
And can I pass and be no more a token?
Shall not the lovers young
To whom my soul hath sung
Hear by my chant the summer silence broken?
Shall not some girlish heart
Tremble and bound and start,
As if a real live voice some sudden word had spoken?
Of England's songful heart,
And can I pass and be no more a token?
Shall not the lovers young
To whom my soul hath sung
Hear by my chant the summer silence broken?
Shall not some girlish heart
Tremble and bound and start,
As if a real live voice some sudden word had spoken?
I cannot wholly die
If from the blue dear sky
I bend in gracious song above true lovers;
If in the forest deep
Among the leaves I sleep,
And murmur 'mid the green, close-foliaged covers;
If o'er the eternal sea
Some sign and speech of me
In the wide track of pure mysterious moonlight hovers.
If from the blue dear sky
I bend in gracious song above true lovers;
If in the forest deep
Among the leaves I sleep,
And murmur 'mid the green, close-foliaged covers;
If o'er the eternal sea
Some sign and speech of me
In the wide track of pure mysterious moonlight hovers.
84
If in my city too,
London made great and new,
My voice is heard, though I am gone for ever;
If lovers, in my town,
My singing for a crown
Wear, then as the red sunset ceaseth never,
I too shall never cease,
Nor dwindle nor decrease,
Nor from my well-loved streets my spirit-presence sever.
London made great and new,
My voice is heard, though I am gone for ever;
If lovers, in my town,
My singing for a crown
Wear, then as the red sunset ceaseth never,
I too shall never cease,
Nor dwindle nor decrease,
Nor from my well-loved streets my spirit-presence sever.
So, farewell, lovers all!
Around me once I call
The well-known English flowers and English faces:
On every side of me
Dear blossoms I would see
Once more, sweet petals plucked from all loved places;
And round me once again
The glad strong looks of men
My friends I'd meet,—and eyes whose light all sorrow chases.
Around me once I call
The well-known English flowers and English faces:
On every side of me
Dear blossoms I would see
Once more, sweet petals plucked from all loved places;
And round me once again
The glad strong looks of men
My friends I'd meet,—and eyes whose light all sorrow chases.
Sweet eyes of love once more
Upon me, as before,
Glance tenderly, lift once again long lashes!
And, ocean, once more sound,
And blossoms, once abound,
For every flower some pang of death abases!
And, lyre of mine, one song
In death's teeth, clear and strong
Cast,—ere death's conquering tide across my heart-strand dashes!
Upon me, as before,
Glance tenderly, lift once again long lashes!
And, ocean, once more sound,
And blossoms, once abound,
For every flower some pang of death abases!
And, lyre of mine, one song
In death's teeth, clear and strong
Cast,—ere death's conquering tide across my heart-strand dashes!
85
Then let me pass from life,
And song and love and strife,
Content, my labour done, my soul not fearing;
Not doubting that I go
Towards regions where the glow
Of sunset on our mountains disappearing
Is a new rose-red day
On grander peaks than they,
Peaks which my ardent swift fatigueless foot is nearing.
And song and love and strife,
Content, my labour done, my soul not fearing;
Not doubting that I go
Towards regions where the glow
Of sunset on our mountains disappearing
Is a new rose-red day
On grander peaks than they,
Peaks which my ardent swift fatigueless foot is nearing.
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