 | The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics |  |
194
THE CORNER APART.
You complain the world grows prosy—do as I do, Blanche, my treasure,
Set apart a little corner in your mind, sweet maid, and there
Cage your Fancy, like a singing bird, and make it, for chief pleasure,
Cover life's cold common places with a woof of visions rare.
Set apart a little corner in your mind, sweet maid, and there
Cage your Fancy, like a singing bird, and make it, for chief pleasure,
Cover life's cold common places with a woof of visions rare.
Then away from all the turmoil that so frets and so fatigues you,
You'll take refuge in your castle, built where no world-discords are—
On some mountain-crag in dreamland, looking whence, for leagues and leagues, you
See only flocks and herds, or eke some gallant knight afar.
You'll take refuge in your castle, built where no world-discords are—
On some mountain-crag in dreamland, looking whence, for leagues and leagues, you
See only flocks and herds, or eke some gallant knight afar.
195
Ay, some Knight, that you, in outrage of my constant fond pretension,
Crying pshaw! to all my sentiment, and heedless of my sighs,
May unclose your castle gates to, with right courteous condescension,
Just to see how love in olden days lit up a suitor's eyes.
Crying pshaw! to all my sentiment, and heedless of my sighs,
May unclose your castle gates to, with right courteous condescension,
Just to see how love in olden days lit up a suitor's eyes.
Or what say you, shall our fancies, Blanche, my queen, be caged together?
Happy thought! they'll build us castles, twice as fair and twice as strong;
And besides you'd find it lonely else, despite the halcyon weather,
For I warn you dreamland suitors are a sad unreal throng.
Happy thought! they'll build us castles, twice as fair and twice as strong;
And besides you'd find it lonely else, despite the halcyon weather,
For I warn you dreamland suitors are a sad unreal throng.
Do you need increased persuasion? Nay, believe me then, my fairy
Is a wonder-working wizard, worth a thousand such as thine;
You'll own his art pre-eminent, his patience exemplary,
When his magic spells are woven close around your soul and minc.
Is a wonder-working wizard, worth a thousand such as thine;
You'll own his art pre-eminent, his patience exemplary,
When his magic spells are woven close around your soul and minc.
196
Your lithe fancy, gentle creature, has been nurtured to meek uses,
All its incantations bounded to some soft and silken dream;—
Mine's a hardy mountain stroller, that no toilsome task refuses,—
Let him aid his weaker sister,—Blanche, what say you to my scheme?
All its incantations bounded to some soft and silken dream;—
Mine's a hardy mountain stroller, that no toilsome task refuses,—
Let him aid his weaker sister,—Blanche, what say you to my scheme?
If the world in truth grows prosy, then accept the proffered pleasure—
Come, see the golden sunsets glow on plains of Arcady;
Come feast with gnomes, in Brocken halls, amid their piled-up treasure,
Come dance with merry elfin folk beneath the green-wood tree!
Come, see the golden sunsets glow on plains of Arcady;
Come feast with gnomes, in Brocken halls, amid their piled-up treasure,
Come dance with merry elfin folk beneath the green-wood tree!
We'll have tilts and we'll have tournays, and the troubadours shall sing us
All their lays of high achievement, lays of love, and lays of war;
Or we'll take the wings of swiftness that our trusty spirits bring us,
And soar up to hear the spheric songs that float from star to star.
All their lays of high achievement, lays of love, and lays of war;
Or we'll take the wings of swiftness that our trusty spirits bring us,
And soar up to hear the spheric songs that float from star to star.
197
Brief pause, brief intermission—still, illusion on illusion,
Like flashings of the Northern lights, shall be our magic dream;
Swift flitting tints, that burn and blend in one harmonious fusion,
With changes bright and manifold—what say you to my scheme?
Like flashings of the Northern lights, shall be our magic dream;
Swift flitting tints, that burn and blend in one harmonious fusion,
With changes bright and manifold—what say you to my scheme?
Why, what can you say, poor captive to your social life's conventions,
To its mill-horse round of routine, chained, alas! whate'er befall,
With no single source of solace save in such benign inventions,
Why what can you say, but—“Catch those sprites, and cage them once for all!”
To its mill-horse round of routine, chained, alas! whate'er befall,
With no single source of solace save in such benign inventions,
Why what can you say, but—“Catch those sprites, and cage them once for all!”
| The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics | |