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83

VARIOUS POEMS.

TO JOY.

120

SONG.

[Love, like cordial wine]

Love, like cordial wine,
Pouring his soul in mine,
Bids me to sing;
Youth's bright glory snatch,
And Time's paces match
With fearless wing.
Now, while breath is bliss,
And dawn wakes me with a kiss,
Ere this rapture flee,
Ere my heart thou claim,
Sorrow, I will aim
A shaft at thee.

122

LOVE INFINITE.

Where the honeysuckle blows
In the summer night, entwined
With fresh leaves of the rose,
Greenness in gloom divined;
Sweet breaths in a mystery conspire
My soul to ravish in swift desire
Yet I, as the hidden grass
I roam, within me bear
Joys that all these surpass,
And taste diviner air.
I love, I am loved: ah, nothing was ever sweet
As the word my lips to my heart repeat.
To take into my arms
The body of my bliss;
Charm beyond earthly charms,
Thought beyond thought were this.
My bliss not Earth in her ring could hold,
Nor Night, that doth all the stars enfold.
It clothes me and bathes me round:
I find no end nor measure.
I sink, I am lost; drowned
In the wonder and depth of pleasure.
O joy of love, could I plumb with a rod the sea,
My tongue might tell the untellable sweetness of thee.

123

OVER THE SEA.

There came an evening when the storm had died
After long rain, miraculously clear:
And lo, across the burning waters wide
Rose up that coast, to thee and me how dear.
I knew the very houses by the bay.
And as I gazed, the time that clouded thick
On those old hours, fell suddenly away,
And memory was bared, even to the quick.
There was no peace then in the evening light;
For all my joy was left on that far shore.
Betwixt that apparition and the night
Alone I was; and I was brave no more.
Could I not keep thee, even in my heart?
O, my dear love, we perish, when we part.

124

LAMENT.

O could the fallen leaf
On the bough again be born,
The old joy, the old grief
Come fresh to the heart with morn!
Spring will bring new flowers
And morning a new song:
But I want not these, I long
For the old days, the old hours.
The kisses that I kissed,
The sweet kisses you gave,
All are gone in a mist,
Gone into Time their grave.
Could I once again
Feel that old first kiss,
This, and only this
Could heal my wound of pain.

127

IN THE FIRELIGHT.

So sad and so lonely, Dear?
What dream by the fire do you dream
So deep, that you could not hear
My step as I entered? Dim
Is the room and the ceiling above you
With shadows that leap from the fire:
But hither, look hither, 'tis I
That am here; it is I, that love you.
I am come on the wings of desire:
Far off, I felt you sigh.
How could my heart refuse
Your longing that pierced so far?
That in those clear eyes, that muse,
Has kindled a mournful star?
But now, O now no longer
In the fire your comfort seek.
I bring love brighter than flame,
Than the sunshine warmer and stronger.
I cherish your hands; O speak,
Look on me, and speak my name!

128

THE ELM.

O that I had a tongue, that could express
Half of that peace thou ownest, darkling Tree!
A slumber, shaded with the heaviness
That droops thy leaves, hangs deeply over me.
Far off, the evening light
Takes dim farewell: with hesitating Night
Day softly parleys; each her hour suspends,
Hushing the harboured winds, lest they affright
Ripe summer, that the falling leaf attends.
Fresh are the fields; and like a bloom they wear
This delicate evening. Peace upon them lies
So soft, I marvel that their slopes to air
Dissolve not, ere foot reach them: dewy skies
In dream the distance steep.
Thou only, solitary Elm, dost keep
Firm root in earth, and with thy musing crest
Unmoved, and darkly branching arms asleep,
As truth in dream, my spirit anchorest.
O surely Sleep inhabits in thy boughs,
Sleep, that knows all things; each well-hid distress
And private sigh; that all men's plea allows,
And is acquainted with the happiness
Removed, of him that grieves.

129

Surely beneath thy grave and tranquil leaves
He will unfold the obstinate mystery
That to our questing thought for ever cleaves,
And I may hold in my own hand the key.
To pierce the veil, and, seeing with clear eyes,
Wonder that riddles ever vext our lot,
What joy! For did perfidious Earth devise
Our desolation; were her felon plot
To flatter with fair shows,
That we her purpose out of useless woes
Might fashion, baited by a glorious lure,
You could not, O dark leaves, such deep repose
Imitate, nor conspire to seem secure.
You, as a child exclaims the natural fear
Which men dissemble, what you could not hide
Would utter: but you sleep, remote from care.
Still tree, by thy dumb augury I abide
Nor further ask thee tell
Things for the time imprisoned: I the spell
Might break, and thou the rash intruder scorn.
Enough, that what I know not thou know'st well,
Unagitated, nor hast need to mourn.