My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
207
JILTED.
Well! Friend! this arrow hath missed its mark,
But, Man! you have more in your quiver.
All over no doubt with your Pleasure-bark,
But swim like a lusty liver!
A-top of some Ararat next the skies
You shall clap your wings and crow;
Higher and higher your spirits will rise
While the Deluge is ebbing below.
Thank God some First Loves do miscarry,
Men frequently say when they come to marry.
But, Man! you have more in your quiver.
All over no doubt with your Pleasure-bark,
But swim like a lusty liver!
A-top of some Ararat next the skies
You shall clap your wings and crow;
Higher and higher your spirits will rise
While the Deluge is ebbing below.
Thank God some First Loves do miscarry,
Men frequently say when they come to marry.
Very likely she had some love for you!
Some love till death doth sever:
And some for a Month or a Year or two,
And some they say for ever.
Your love would have lasted, no doubt, my brother,
That at least was eternal:
We all think so, one time or other,
While very young and vernal.
But you might not have found your heaven within
The pretty blue eyes you so wanted to win.
Some love till death doth sever:
And some for a Month or a Year or two,
And some they say for ever.
Your love would have lasted, no doubt, my brother,
That at least was eternal:
We all think so, one time or other,
While very young and vernal.
But you might not have found your heaven within
The pretty blue eyes you so wanted to win.
The Learned will tell you those beautiful eyes
Of witching, bewildering blue,
Are as drumlie waters, or earth-made skies,
Or un-rinsed linen in hue!
For want of clearness their charm is given,
And hearts are whirled away;
Blue is not the Natural colour of heaven
Where dwelleth the perfect day,—
And the woman you thought you were loving, looked through
Far other eyes than you worshipped, at you!
Of witching, bewildering blue,
Are as drumlie waters, or earth-made skies,
Or un-rinsed linen in hue!
For want of clearness their charm is given,
And hearts are whirled away;
208
Where dwelleth the perfect day,—
And the woman you thought you were loving, looked through
Far other eyes than you worshipped, at you!
Yes, I know how you stood all a-flame for her,
Your heart of hearts to fill;
I know how you hardly dared to stir
Lest your delight should spill;
Then came the clap on the back, my Friend,
That made the dreamer start,
And, at the awakening whack, my Friend
Found he had lost his heart.
Pass on, nor loiter with longing eye,
'Tis no use looking, unable to buy.
Your heart of hearts to fill;
I know how you hardly dared to stir
Lest your delight should spill;
Then came the clap on the back, my Friend,
That made the dreamer start,
And, at the awakening whack, my Friend
Found he had lost his heart.
Pass on, nor loiter with longing eye,
'Tis no use looking, unable to buy.
You say that she gave you kiss for kiss;
But that is no promise of marriage.
Surely you know in a world like this
A Lady must ride in her carriage?
Although, like a lane I saw last spring,
The way of her life should go,—
One side with violets blossoming,
The other white-wintry with snow.
Of saffron the Greek wedding-robe was of old,
Parents in England prefer it in gold.
But that is no promise of marriage.
Surely you know in a world like this
A Lady must ride in her carriage?
Although, like a lane I saw last spring,
The way of her life should go,—
One side with violets blossoming,
The other white-wintry with snow.
Of saffron the Greek wedding-robe was of old,
Parents in England prefer it in gold.
The old love wasn't the true love;
That you have plainly proved.
Be turning your thoughts to a new love,
Somebody waits to be loved;
Somebody patiently waiting for you,
And the purified love you can give her,
With a soul full of love as the summer dew
Is of sun with its kiss all a-quiver.
To keep the ghost from your vacant chair,
Nothing like nestling a warm wife there.
That you have plainly proved.
Be turning your thoughts to a new love,
Somebody waits to be loved;
Somebody patiently waiting for you,
And the purified love you can give her,
209
Is of sun with its kiss all a-quiver.
To keep the ghost from your vacant chair,
Nothing like nestling a warm wife there.
Do not be wasting the rest of your wine
By pouring it out in the dust.
What of your faith, old comrade of mine,
Can you take your trial on trust?
The knife is sharp and the flesh must shrink,
But, as in the mythical day,
God often perfects the Manhood I think
By cutting the Woman away.
He takes but a Spare-rib and gives you a Wife,
With a heart beating warm in her, life of your life.
By pouring it out in the dust.
What of your faith, old comrade of mine,
Can you take your trial on trust?
The knife is sharp and the flesh must shrink,
But, as in the mythical day,
God often perfects the Manhood I think
By cutting the Woman away.
He takes but a Spare-rib and gives you a Wife,
With a heart beating warm in her, life of your life.
| My Lyrical Life | |