 | A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems |  |
355
SONGS AND OTHER BREVITIES.
367
LOFTY AND LOWLY.
I love a lady all so far aboveMe, she can never hear the name of love;
I only whisper to my heart in low
Dark sayings what my lady must not know;
But, had I only a minute's space to live,
And she beside me, I would pray her give
Me on the mouth one dear and holy kiss;
And straightway a warm stream of paradise
Would gush and gladden all the gulf of death,
A calm of blessëd faces take mine eyes;
A hurricane of harpings take my breath:
All heavën would bend brooding down to meet
Me, in that gracious stooping of my Sweet;
And, at her touch, my soul should enter bliss.
368
HEIGH-HO!
Heigh-ho! She will never be mine:
Never! never. I know
The grasp of gold
My Jewel will hold:
She is Lofty and I am Low.
Never! never. I know
The grasp of gold
My Jewel will hold:
She is Lofty and I am Low.
Heigh-ho! but my heart like a Bird
On wings of the night will go,
To make its love-nest
In that heaven of her breast,
'Neath the heaven of her eyes all aglow.
On wings of the night will go,
To make its love-nest
In that heaven of her breast,
'Neath the heaven of her eyes all aglow.
Heigh-ho! in dreams she is mine,
All mine: and how can I know
But she loves me in dream,
With no drawn sword a-gleam,
'Twixt the kissing of Lofty and Low?
All mine: and how can I know
But she loves me in dream,
With no drawn sword a-gleam,
'Twixt the kissing of Lofty and Low?
371
HOME SONG.
The Larch is snooding her tresses
In a twine of the daintiest green;
With fresh spring-breath the Hawthorn heaves
His breast to the sunny sheen.
A shower of spring-green sprinkles the Lime;
A shower of spring-gold the Broom;
And each rathe tint of the tender time
Wakes the wish that my Lady were Home.
In a twine of the daintiest green;
With fresh spring-breath the Hawthorn heaves
His breast to the sunny sheen.
A shower of spring-green sprinkles the Lime;
A shower of spring-gold the Broom;
And each rathe tint of the tender time
Wakes the wish that my Lady were Home.
In the Coppice, the dear Primroses
Are the smile of each dim green nook,
Gravely gladsome; sunny but cool
With the sound of the gurgling brook.
And by the wayside, in a burst of delight,
From the world of fairy and gnome,
All the flowers are crowding to see the sight
At their windows. My Lady come Home!
Are the smile of each dim green nook,
Gravely gladsome; sunny but cool
With the sound of the gurgling brook.
372
From the world of fairy and gnome,
All the flowers are crowding to see the sight
At their windows. My Lady come Home!
The Country's growing glorious
Quietly day by day;
The colour of April comes and goes
In a blush to meet the May.
And the spring-rains steal from their heaven of shade,
In a veil of tender gloam,
With a splendid sparkle for every blade.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Quietly day by day;
The colour of April comes and goes
In a blush to meet the May.
And the spring-rains steal from their heaven of shade,
In a veil of tender gloam,
With a splendid sparkle for every blade.
Dear my Lady come Home!
The Spirit of Gladness floating
Goes up in a sound of song:
Robin sings in the rich eve-lights;
The Throstle all day long:
The Lark in his heaven that soars above
Each morn with a distant dome;
All sweet! but sweeter the voice we love.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Goes up in a sound of song:
Robin sings in the rich eve-lights;
The Throstle all day long:
The Lark in his heaven that soars above
Each morn with a distant dome;
All sweet! but sweeter the voice we love.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
373
Your Apple-blooms are fragrant
Beyond the breath of the South;
Every bud, for an airy kiss,
Is lifting a rosy wee mouth.
A greener glory hour by hour,
And a peep of ruddier bloom,
But the leafy world waiteth its human flower.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Beyond the breath of the South;
Every bud, for an airy kiss,
Is lifting a rosy wee mouth.
A greener glory hour by hour,
And a peep of ruddier bloom,
But the leafy world waiteth its human flower.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Our thoughts are as the Violets
Around the Ash-tree root,
That breathe the earliest hints of Spring
At their lofty lady's foot,
And wonder why she still delays—
When the sea of life is a-foam
With flowers—to crown her in these glad days.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Around the Ash-tree root,
That breathe the earliest hints of Spring
At their lofty lady's foot,
And wonder why she still delays—
When the sea of life is a-foam
With flowers—to crown her in these glad days.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Come! feel the deepening dearness
About the grand old place.
Come! let us see the cordial smile
Once more in our Lady's face.
Winter was dreary: of waiting we weary:
Best of all joy-bringers, come!
Spread bonny white sails! blow balmy spring-gales!
And bring my Lady Home!
About the grand old place.
Come! let us see the cordial smile
Once more in our Lady's face.
374
Best of all joy-bringers, come!
Spread bonny white sails! blow balmy spring-gales!
And bring my Lady Home!
375
THE WHITE CHILD.
Mothers of Children three;
Two of them ruddy with glee;
One your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I peer in her tender face,
And I fear that its light of grace
Is too still and too starry a birth
For our noisy, dim dwellings of Earth.
She looks like a natural Child
Of the heavens—too lustrous, too mild
For us. Other Roses are blowing
While mine seems up-folding and going,—
Dreamily happy in going.
Yet on it more soft is the thorn
Than the tiniest little snail's-horn,
And golden at heart is the Morn
Of a day that may never be born.
Two of them ruddy with glee;
One your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I peer in her tender face,
And I fear that its light of grace
Is too still and too starry a birth
For our noisy, dim dwellings of Earth.
She looks like a natural Child
Of the heavens—too lustrous, too mild
For us. Other Roses are blowing
While mine seems up-folding and going,—
Dreamily happy in going.
376
Than the tiniest little snail's-horn,
And golden at heart is the Morn
Of a day that may never be born.
Just a spirit of light is my Girl,
Seen thro' a body of pearl;
A spirit of life that will fleet
Away, more on wings than on feet.
Her cheek is so waxenly thin,
As if deathward 'twere whitening in,
And the cloud of her flesh, still more white,
Were clearing till soul is in sight.
She leans as the wind-flowers stoop;
All their loveliness seen as they droop!
Her eyes have the sweet native hue
Of the heaven they are melting into,
Blue as the Violets above
The grave of some tender babe-love
That back to us wistfully bring
The buried blue eyes with the Spring.
Her large eyes too liquidly glister!
Her mouth is too red.
Seen thro' a body of pearl;
A spirit of life that will fleet
Away, more on wings than on feet.
Her cheek is so waxenly thin,
As if deathward 'twere whitening in,
And the cloud of her flesh, still more white,
Were clearing till soul is in sight.
She leans as the wind-flowers stoop;
All their loveliness seen as they droop!
Her eyes have the sweet native hue
Of the heaven they are melting into,
Blue as the Violets above
The grave of some tender babe-love
That back to us wistfully bring
The buried blue eyes with the Spring.
Her large eyes too liquidly glister!
Her mouth is too red.
377
Have they kissed her—
The Angels that bend down to pull
Our buds of the Beautiful,
And whispered their own little Sister?
The Angels that bend down to pull
Our buds of the Beautiful,
And whispered their own little Sister?
O Mothers of Children three!
Two of them bright of blee;
One, your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I think I could give half her wealth
Of heaven for a little more health:
The halo of Saints for the simple
Blithe graces that dip in a dimple!
Nay, I feel in my heart I could revel
To see but a wee dash of devil;
A touch of the old Adam in her;
A glimpse of his fair fellow-sinner;
Any likeness of earth that would give
Me a promise my Darling should live.
O my love! O my life! O my Maker,
Take me too, if Thou must take her!
Two of them bright of blee;
One, your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I think I could give half her wealth
Of heaven for a little more health:
The halo of Saints for the simple
Blithe graces that dip in a dimple!
Nay, I feel in my heart I could revel
To see but a wee dash of devil;
A touch of the old Adam in her;
A glimpse of his fair fellow-sinner;
Any likeness of earth that would give
Me a promise my Darling should live.
O my love! O my life! O my Maker,
Take me too, if Thou must take her!
382
AN APOLOGUE.
In the olden day when Immortals
Came oftener visibly down,
There went a Youth with an Angel
Thro' the gate of an Eastern Town:
They passed a Dog by the road-side,
Where dead and rotting it lay,
And the Youth, at the ghastly odour,
Sickened and turned away.
He gathered his robes about him
And hastily hurried thence:
But nought annoyed the Angel's
Clear, pure, immortal sense.
Came oftener visibly down,
There went a Youth with an Angel
Thro' the gate of an Eastern Town:
They passed a Dog by the road-side,
Where dead and rotting it lay,
And the Youth, at the ghastly odour,
Sickened and turned away.
He gathered his robes about him
And hastily hurried thence:
But nought annoyed the Angel's
Clear, pure, immortal sense.
383
By came a lady, lip-luscious,
On delicate tinkling feet:
All the place grew glad with her presence,
The air about her sweet;
For she came in fragrance floating,
And her voice most silverly rang;
The Youth, to embrace her beauty,
With all his being sprang.
A sweet, delightsome Lady:
And yet the Legend saith,
The Angel, while he passed her,
Shuddered and held his breath.
On delicate tinkling feet:
All the place grew glad with her presence,
The air about her sweet;
For she came in fragrance floating,
And her voice most silverly rang;
The Youth, to embrace her beauty,
With all his being sprang.
A sweet, delightsome Lady:
And yet the Legend saith,
The Angel, while he passed her,
Shuddered and held his breath.
386
MY NEIGHBOUR.
“Love
thou thy Neighbour,” we are told,
“Even as Thyself.” That creed I hold;
But love her more, a thousand-fold!
“Even as Thyself.” That creed I hold;
But love her more, a thousand-fold!
My lovely Neighbour; oft we meet
In lonely lane, or crowded street;
I know the music of her feet.
In lonely lane, or crowded street;
I know the music of her feet.
She little thinks how, on a day,
She must have missed her usual way,
And walked into my heart for aye:
She must have missed her usual way,
And walked into my heart for aye:
Or how the rustle of her dress
Thrills thro' me like a soft caress,
With trembles of deliciousness.
Thrills thro' me like a soft caress,
With trembles of deliciousness.
387
Wee woman, with her smiling mien,
And soul celestially serene,
She passes me, unconscious Queen!
And soul celestially serene,
She passes me, unconscious Queen!
Her face most innocently good,
Where shyly peeps the sweet red blood:
Her form a nest of Womanhood!
Where shyly peeps the sweet red blood:
Her form a nest of Womanhood!
Like Raleigh—for her dainty tread,
When ways are miry—I could spread
My cloak, but, there's my heart instead.
When ways are miry—I could spread
My cloak, but, there's my heart instead.
Ah, Neighbour, you will never know
Why 'tis my step is quickened so;
Nor what the prayer I murmur low.
Why 'tis my step is quickened so;
Nor what the prayer I murmur low.
I see you 'mid your flowers at morn,
Fresh as the rosebud newly born;
I marvel, can you have a thorn?
Fresh as the rosebud newly born;
I marvel, can you have a thorn?
If so, 'twere sweet to lean one's breast
Against it, and, the more it prest,
Sing like the Bird that sorrow hath blest.
Against it, and, the more it prest,
Sing like the Bird that sorrow hath blest.
388
I hear you sing! And thro' me Spring
Doth musically ripple and ring;
Little you think I'm listening!
Doth musically ripple and ring;
Little you think I'm listening!
You know not, dear, how dear you be;
All dearer for the secrecy:
Nothing, and yet a world to me.
All dearer for the secrecy:
Nothing, and yet a world to me.
So near, too! you could hear me sigh,
Or see my case with half an eye;
But must not. There are reasons why.
Or see my case with half an eye;
But must not. There are reasons why.
| A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems | |