Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems

By W. C. Bennett: New ed

Bennett, W. C. (1820-1895)

[dedication]

[section]

[Forms beyond my vision fleeting]

BABY MAY AND OTHER POEMS.

TO A LADY I KNOW, AGED ONE.

THE SEASONS.

TO A LOCKET.

CRADLE SONGS.

EPITAPHS FOR INFANTS.

THE STORY OF A MOTHER.

THE WORN WEDDING-RING AND OTHER HOME POEMS.

THE WORN WEDDING-RING.

MY OWN EASY CHAIR.

OUR FAIRIES.

BY A GRAVE IN LEE CHURCHYARD.

DREAM!

WEDDING WORDS.

ON A MINIATURE OF MY WIFE.

[My hair is gathering gray apace]

[And say you that my Spring has fled]

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS.

SKETCHES FROM A PAINTER'S STUDIO.

A DIRGE.

THE TEARFUL CORNET.

FROM INDIA.

THE STAR OF THE BALLET.

II.

THE TRIUMPH FOR SALAMIS.

THE SEMPSTRESS TO HER MIGNONETTE.

THE JUDGMENT OF MIDAS.

HER JESSAMINE.

CHORUSES FROM AN UNFINISHED TRAGEDY ON THE FALL OF MESSENIA.

SONGS AND LYRICAL POEMS.

DREAMS.

A SAILOR'S SONG.

A KISS—A SMILE—A SIGH.

THE CAVALIER'S WHISPER.

O MIGHT I BE THE HAPPY GLOVE!

O BUT TO SEE HER FACE AGAIN.

A KISS FOR YOUR THOUGHT.

UNCHANGED.

ELLEN, YOU'RE MY ROSE.

THIS HEART, ONCE A BEE.

GOOD-BYE.

O SUMMER, PAINT ME HER SWEET LIPS.

DIE, DAY!

HOW LIGHTLY SLEEPING CUPID LIES.

A WIFE'S SONG.

A SPRING SONG.

FROM A GARRET.

YE ROSES, WITH HER BLUSHES, BLOW.

FOR YOU.

TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BURNS.

PRITHEE TELL ME WHERE LOVE DWELLS.

A WINTER SONG.

A SMILE—IT WAS BUT A SMILE.

THE WRECKED HOPE.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

I'VE WATCHED YOU FROM THE SHORE.

PRITHEE WHAT HATH SNARED THEE, HEART?

O WEARY THOUGHTS, BE STILL!

LISETTE IN AUSTRALIA.

PIERRE JEAN DE BÉRANGER.

NO—NO—MY LOVE IS NO ROSE.

THE CRY OF THE LAWFUL LANTERNS.

FROM SEA

FAREWELL! FAREWELL!

BE MINE, AND I WILL GIVE THY NAME.

THE DAISY.

A SEA SONG.

AFTER BÉRANGER.

IN DREAMS I CLASP YOU ONCE AGAIN.

RING, HAPPY BELLS!

SPRING SONG.

THE DRESSMAKER'S THRUSH.

RAVEN-BLACK ARE AMY'S TANGLING TRESSES.

A SONG OF THE SEA.

THE SOWING OF THE DRAGON'S TEETH.

NO GAS! NO GAS!

WHEN JOVE THIS EARTH CREATED.

LOOK INTO THESE FOND EYES.

GOOD-NIGHT!

AFTER BÉRANGER.

OF GIPSY BLOOD YOU SURELY CAME.

YES, MY HEART IS LIKE TINDER.

WHERE, O POLAND, ARE THY LANCES?

THE HORRID METAMORPHOSIS.

SPRING SONG.

AN AUTUMN SONG.

THANK HEAVEN! I'M STILL A BOY.

THE WORD.

GOD SPARE MY BOY AT SEA!

O THE WILD, WILD WINDS HAVE VOICES.

CHILD, PURSUE THY BUTTERFLY!

LIZ, YOU'VE A TEASING HEART.

TO THE CONGRESS OF PARIS.

NO MORE GREAT LOVE MY HEART BEGUILES.

THE SONG OF DEATH.

IMAGES! IMAGES!

HAD I A POET'S MIGHTY POWER.

WHILE THE CHAMPAGNE FOAMS.

COUNSEL TO KINGS.

“SEIZE,” I SAID, “O ART, THY PENCIL.”

TO THE COMING COMET.

DEAD.

MY ROSES BLOSSOM THE WHOLE YEAR ROUND.

THE RIGHT ABOVE THE WRONG.

L’ENVOI.

THE GREEN HILLS OF SURREY.

O BONNY IS MY HUSBAND'S SHIP.

HOME AGAIN.

A THOUSAND LEAGUES AWAY.

HOW PLEASANT IS THE FARMER'S LIFE.

BALLAD.

A SOLDIER AM I.

THE PLEASANT FIELDS OF KENT.

THE GLORIES OF OUR THAMES.

WERE I A KING! WERE I A KING!

WHAT'S WITHIN THIS GLASS OF MINE?

HENCE, FELL WINE!

SONG.

THE SICK MAN'S PRAYER.

YOU ARE A PREACHER, BEE.

UPON THY STREAM, SWIFT-FLOWING.

HAUNTED.

BEWARE!

AFTER A PLEASANT EVENING.

FLOWERS IN THE CITY.

TELL ME, MY HEART.

MORNING, MORNING, GIVE TO ME.

“GOD AND THE RIGHT!”

NIGHT AND DAY ARE FROM HER NEVER.

BEWITCHED.

FOR MUSIC.

WAR SONGS.

TO THE BESIEGERS OF SEBASTOPOL.

TAKE, FLAGS, ONE GLORY MORE.

THE FRENCH INVASION.

THE SCORE IS—FOUR.

THE ALMA.

OUR TRIUMPH FOR SINOPE.

BEWARE, O CZAR, BEWARE!

ON THIS VERY BED HAS DEATH.

CAVOUR.

“ERNST IST DAS LEBEN.”

A CRY FOR NATIONAL EDUCATION.

A THOUGHT.

THE PRAYERS.

BY THE SEA.

TO THE AUTHORESS OF “ART-LIFE IN MUNICH.”

RESURGET.

THE SHADOW-HUNTED.

THE CRY OF THE DOUBTER.

GOD IS LOVE.

STILL GOD TALKS TO MAN.

POEMS OF FANCY AND FEELING.

KITTY PALMER.

THE MISTAKE OF THE LOVES.

MY SAINT.

HOW MUCH YOUR BEAUTIES OWE.

TO A SKYLARK.

IN A SCHOOL-ROOM.

AN AUTUMN CONCEIT IN GREENWICH PARK.

TO A CRICKET.

TO THE CHRYSANTHEMUM.

THOUGHTS AND FANCIES.

LINES WRITTEN IN MISS MITFORD'S GARDEN.

THE LIME BEFORE MY WINDOW.

A MAY-DAY SONG.

A LEAF FROM MY SKETCH-BOOK.

SONNETS.

WRITTEN IN WINDSOR CASTLE.

[Friends, could I live a life of art alone]

[You shall be thought of with the scents of Spring]

[You cross my dusty path with dreams divine]

[Nor, Alchemists, turning to gold the lead]

[With you, too, comes the Shakespeare of all sound]

[Of poet-homes was our delightful talk]

[Nor were those, breathing not your Boston air]

[And as the glory of the still May moon]

[So you have been with Severn, and have heard]

[What pleasant talk you bear across the sea]

[And you have paced the streets that Cæsar trod]

On being told that Charles Dickens had said that “the bust of Clytie must have been modelled from a real Greek girl, or it could not have been so beautiful.”

“Should not the truest Art interpret rather than daguerreotype?”

IN THE DULWICH GALLERY—BEFORE GUIDO'S “ST. SEBASTIAN.”

IN LONDON—AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY—BEFORE MURILLO'S “HOLY FAMILY.”

ON A VIOLET-STAND.

AT ROME—FROM THE HILL OF THE CAPITOL.

ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE COLISEUM.

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

ROBERT BROWNING.

BEFORE WILKIE'S “COLUMBUS.”

AT SOUTH KENSINGTON—IN THE TURNER GALLERY.

AT DULWICH.

IN THE SISTINE CHAPEL—BEFORE MICHAEL ANGELO'S “LAST JUDGMENT.”

AT DULWICH.

AT ANTWERP—BEFORE RUBENS' “DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.”

[Venice! Dear friends, how comes she to your eyes?]

[On the Rialto, too, your steps have been]

[Ah, those Italian lakes! My town-dull'd eyes]

[When the laburnum droops its golden rain]

BEFORE THE DULWICH GALLERY.

IN THE CAPITOL—BEFORE THE FAUN OF “PRAXITELES,”

IN THE VATICAN—BEFORE THE APOLLO BELVEDERE.

AT THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM—BEFORE “THE TURNERS.”

AT FLORENCE—BEFORE THE “VENUS DE MEDICI.”

IN THE VATICAN—BEFORE THE FRESCOES OF THE “STANZE DI RAFFAELLO.”

IN ITALY—1860.

[So this is yours, our Wordsworth's pictured face]

[What! Gad's Hill's haunted greenness you have seen.]

IN THE DULWICH GALLERY—BEFORE MURILLO'S “FLOWER-GIRL.”

THACKERAY.

ITALY.

MRS. BROWNING.

AT MILAN—IN THE CONVENT OF THE MADONNA DELLE GRAZIE.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

AT ALFRED TENNYSON'S.

AT ROME—IN THE FORUM.

IN THE TOWER OF LONDON.

WRITTEN IN NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S “TRANSFORMATION.”

II.

III.

JOHN RUSKIN.

II.

III.

IN PARIS—AT THE LOUVRE—BEFORE MURILLO'S “IMMACULATE CONCEPTION.”

IN LONDON—BEFORE HOLMAN HUNT'S “FINDING OF CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE.”

[And of our great ones, him you should have known]

AT ROME—BEFORE ST. PETER'S.

AT ROME—IN ST. PETER'S.

IN LONDON—BEFORE ST. PAUL'S.

IN LONDON—IN TRAFALGAR-SQUARE—BEFORE THE STATUE OF GENERAL SIR CHARLES JAMES NAPIER.

GARIBALDI.

AT FLORENCE—IN FRA ANGELICO'S CELL IN THE CONVENT OF ST. MARK.

AT ROME—IN THE FORUM.

ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF TASSO.

FLORENCE.

ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF DANTE.

AT FLORENCE—IN SANTA CROCE—BY THE TOMB OF MACHIAVELLI.

AT PISA—IN THE CAMPO SANTO—BEFORE THE FRESCOES AND TOMB OF BENOZZO GOZZOLI.

MILAN, 1860.

IN LONDON—BEFORE MR. CROPSEY'S “AUTUMN ON THE HUDSON.”

TO MARY HOWITT.

TO MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.

TO KEATS.

TO LEIGH HUNT.

A RECOLLECTION OF THE PERFORMANCE OF “ION.”

WRITTEN IN MACAULAY'S “LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.”

MOTHERWELL'S GRAVE.

AT ROME—ON THE PINCIAN HILL.

[Would God had homed me near your fireside, friends]

[Yours be a life of pleasure, lapp'd in ease]

BEFORE MR. JOHN RUSKIN'S “TURNERS,” AT DENMARK HILL.

WRITTEN IN DR. HOLMES'S “ELSIE VENNER.”

WRITTEN IN “EMERSON'S ESSAYS.”

II.

III.

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THE LIME BEFORE MY WINDOW.

Pleasant is its sight to me;
Pleasant will it ever be;
Often shall I long to see
That lime before my window.

Green it rustles in my thought;
Ah, what memories has it brought!
Pictures fair that rose unsought!
That lime before my window.

484

Waking in the morns of spring,
First does memory love to bring
Leaves that rustle, birds that sing,
That lime before my window.

As I pass adown the stair,
Greeting me with welcome rare,
Stands its greenness, radiant there,
That lime before my window.

And when slumbrous noons are come,
Only summer sound not dumb,
Well I love thy murmuring hum,
Thou lime before my window.

Freshly steals the elm to sight;
Bright the chestnut opes to light;
Thine is greenness yet more bright,
Thou lime before my window.

Flame the woodlands, dim and cold;
Glorious are they, nor behold
Glory brighter than thy gold,
Thou lime before my window.

Keen with frosts are earth and air;
Leafless art thou standing there;
And art thou to me less fair,
Thou lime before my window?

No, unto an inner eye,
All thy beauty that could die,
All thy glory still is nigh,
Thou lime before my window.

Hue, and leaf, decay, consume,
Yet, triumphant o'er thy doom,
Sunlit there, I see thee bloom,
Thou lime before my window.

485

In a moment, even now,
Verdurous Springs thy branches bow;
Autumns burn on every bough,
Thou lime before my window.

Ah, might every year of mine
Some sweet store of beauty shrine
In the thoughts of men, like thine,
Thou lime before my window!