Life and Phantasy :: :: University of Virginia Library

What is sharp as tiger's claws,
Gentler than a linnet's wing,
Sweeping as a mountain flood,
Fragile as a primrose-bud,
Gay as crescent moon in Spring,
Sweet as song when singers pause?
Mournfuller than Autumn skies
Where the shroud of Summer lies,
Mystic as the stars above,
Light as wind and deep as death,
Pure as breath
A maiden draws
Lull'd with music? This is Love.

TO THEODORA.

FROM HER HOPELESS BUT WORSHIPPING LOVER.

Tho' every dear perfection
Be counsel for despair,
Far better my rejection
Than thou less good or fair.

My peace of heart is troubled,
I must not call thee mine;
But all my world's ennobled,
And life made more divine.

This earth, where'er I wander,
Is richer as thy home,
The day more bright, and grander
The midnight starry dome.

Man's dim heroic glory
Its lustre doth renew;
All heights in song or story
Of love and faith, are true.

And tho' kind Heav'n completer
Did thee than others make,
I count all women sweeter
For thy beloved sake.

If sad, as too unworthy,
Yet, happy in my mood,
I bless the Maker for thee,
Who art so fair and good.

LOVE'S INSIGHT.

I

Who could say that Love is blind?
Piercing-sighted, he will find
A thousand subtle charms that lie
Hid from every common eye.

II

You that love not, blind are ye,
Learn to love, and learn to see.
'Tis the insight of the lover
Beauty's essence can discover.

THE LOOK OF LOVE.

I

Sweet look!—I thought it love,
Alas! how much mistaken!
A dream a dream will prove
When time is come to waken.
She was friendly, fair, and kind;
I was weak of wit, I find.
Hope, adieu!—for now I see
Her look of love, but not for me.

II

I see within her eyes
A tender, blissful token;
Hope drops down and dies:
Let no sad word be spoken.
Soon and silent must I go;
She, that knew not, shall not know.
Joy, good-bye!—for now I see
Her look of love, but not for me.

III

The fault was mine alone,
Who from her gracious sweetness
Made fancies all my own
Of heavenly love's completeness:
This from me, poor fool, as far
As from the earthworm shines the star.
Dream, farewell!—for now I see
Her look of love, but not for me.

REVERIE.

My Love and I together,
Deep in sunny sheen;
Raiment of white innocence
Clothed us on the green.

We reclined together,
Musing grave and sweet;
Golden air embraced us,
Blue waves nigh our feet.

Love be my guardian,
Dreams my heritage!
My Love and I together
In the golden age.

THE CUPIDS.

In a grove I saw one day
A flight of Cupids all at play,
Flitting bird-like through the air,
Soft alighting here and there,
Making every bough rejoice
With a most celestial voice,
Or among the blossoms found
Rolling on the swarded ground.
Some there were with wings of blue,
Other some, of rosy hue,
Here, one plumed with purest white,
There, as plunged in golden light;
Crimson some, and some I saw
Colour'd like a gay macaw.
Many were the Queen of Beauty's,
Many bound to other duties.

Band of fowlers next I spied,
Spreading nets on every side,
Watching long, by skill or hap
Fleeting Cupids to entrap.
But if one at length was ta'en,
After mickle time and pain,
Whether golden wing'd or blue,
Roseate, variegate, of hue,
When they put him in their cage
He grew meagre as with age,
Plumage rumpled, colour coarse,
Voice unfrequent, sad, and hoarse;
And little pleasure had they in him
Who had spent the day to win him.

TO PHILIPPINA.

Lady fair, lady fair,
Seated with the scornful,
Though your beauty be so rare,
I were but a born fool
Still to seek my pleasure there.

To love your features and your hue,
All your glowing beauty,
All, in short, that's good of you,
Was and is my duty,
As to love all beauty too.

But now a fairer face I've got,
A Picture's—and believe me,
I never looked to you for what
A picture cannot give me.
All you've more, enhances not.

Your queenly lips can speak, and prove
The means of your uncrowning;
Your brow can change, your eyes can move,
Which grants you power of frowning;
Hers have Heav'n's one thought, of Love.

So now I give good-bye, ma belle,
And lose no great good by it.
You're fair, well!—I can smile farewell,
As you must shortly sigh it,
To your bright, light, outer shell.

WE TWO.

I

Let all your looks be grave and cold,
Or smile upon me still;
And give your hand, or else withhold;
Take leave howe'er you will.
No lingering trace within your face
Of love's regard is seen:
We two no more shall be—
Never!—what we've been.

II

It is not now a longing day
Divides us, nor a year;
Your heart from mine has turn'd away,
Nor henceforth sheds a tear.
The winter snow will come and go,
New May-times laugh in green:
We two no more shall be—
Never!—what we've been.

III

Ah, never! Countless hours, that bring
Full many a chance and change,
May choose a beggar-boy for king,
Or cleave a mountain range.
The salt-sea tide may yet be dried
That rolls far lands between:
We two no more can be—
Never!—what we've been.

A WIFE.

The wife sat thoughtfully turning over
A book inscribed with the school-girl's name;
A tear, one tear, fell hot on the cover
So quickly closed when her husband came.

He came, and he went away,—it was nothing;
With commonplace words upon either side;
But, just with the sound of the room-door shutting,
A dreadful door in her soul stood wide.

Love she had read of in sweet romances,
Love that could sorrow, but never fail;
Built her own palace of noble fancies,
All the wide world like a fairy-tale.

Bleak and bitter, and utterly doleful
Spread to this woman her map of life:
Hour after hour she look'd in her soul, full
Of deep dismay and turbulent strife.

Face in hands, she knelt on the carpet;
The cloud was loosen'd, the storm-rain fell.
Oh! life has so much to wilder and warp it,
One poor heart's day what poet could tell?

A SAD SONG.

I

Love once kiss'd me,
Unfolded his wings, and fled.
Hath friendship miss'd me?
Is faith in all friendship dead?
If a spell could summon
These phantoms that come and go,
Of men and women,
Their very selves to show,
I might find (alas me!)
My seeking both night and day.
But I pass them, they pass me,
And each on a lonely way.

II

Soul, art thou friendless,
A loser, sorrowful, weak?
Life is not endless,
Death is not far to seek.
Thou sailest ever,
Each moment, if sad or kind,
Down the great river;
It opens, it closes behind;
Far back thou see-est
The mountain-tops' faint azure;
Below, as thou flee-est,
The ripple, the shadow's erasure.

III

Why dost thou, weeping,
Stretch forth thine arms in vain?
It breaks thy sleeping;
O drop into trance again.
In dreams thou may'st go where
Child's Island is flowery grass'd,
Deep-skied,—it is nowhere
Save in the Land of the Past.
Time is dying,
The World too; forget their moan;
The sad wind sighing
Let murmur, this alone.

LOVE REMEMBERED.

Love, after long exilement from my breast,
Came as of yore last night, and gave to view
('Twas only in a dream) the face I knew
And loved so well. Ah me, that time was best!
O pure and perfect joy, when I possest
Thy soul in mine, when life was love of you,
And all the fairness of the world most true,
Love being God's truth, and chief among the rest!

Was I through ignorance or folly glad
In those lost days, not having found as yet
The secret of the world, which drives men mad,
With one cold poison-drop for remedy?
Or have the Powers of Darkness grip on me
Because I flung away mine amulet?

HALLOWED MEMORY.

Still in my pray'rs and in my dreams,
Tho' from my hourly thoughts exiled,
As spirit-bright thine image beams
As ever saint on hermit smiled.

I used to breathe thy name in pray'r
With human feeling warm and deep;
Now breathed as those that angels bear,
Where love is never taught to weep.

I used to dream thy hand in mine,
And waken with a longing pain;
But now the dream is too divine
To link itself with earth again.

Oh, early found and early lost!
Though on my course thou sheddest now
No light, no strength when tempest-tost,
Still in my pray'rs and dreams art thou.

RESEMBLANCE.

Pale little country girl, you could not guess
Why such a glance to your vague glance hath flown,
And why my words of earnest, tender tone
Expected the reply with so much stress.
You moved a heart-thought which were not your own
Of your own right, altho' that prettiness
Were form's perfection, and the fitting dress
Of truest inward beauty, tried and known.

Likeness and Memory, commingling shades,
That realizing this, and this in turn
Hallowing the other, made my spirit yearn
With sudden thrill, as suddenly that fades:
But not so this fresh longing which invades
The longing, lonely heart, to bid it burn.

LOVE'S GIFTS.

I

This dark-brown curl you send me, Dear,
Shall save its freshness of to-day
In gentle shrine, when year on year
Have turn'd its former fellows gray;
So shall your image in my breast
With never-fading beauty rest.

II

What love hath once on love bestow'd,
Translated in its dew of youth
To some remote divine abode,
Withdraws from risk of time's untruth.
Keeping, we lose; but what we give
Like to a piece of Heav'n doth live.

LONG DELAYED.

Oft have I search'd the weary world in vain,
And all the rest find love and peace of heart,
But I can only find a sluggish pain,
As one by one the sombre days depart,
Presenting many a toy and useless gain:
Sweet Friend, my longing, wheresoe'er thou art,
O come at length! out of thine ambush start!
The light on field and hill begins to wane.

O dreaming fool (I said), have done, have done!
How should a miracle be wrought for thee?—
When lo, joy came, like verdure to a tree
That, long time stretching wintry arms aloft,
Replieth to a day of vernal sun
With multitudes of leaflets green and soft.

THE GLANCE.

Mine—mine—
O Heart, it is thine—
A look, a look of love!
O wonder! O magical charm!
Thou summer-night, silent and warm!
How is it a glance
Can make the heart dance
That was weary and dull before?
Hush! whisper and question no more;
Nor to wind, nor to wave, nor to starlight above
Tell thy joy; let it rest
Like a bird in the nest,
Fall asleep without thinking, content to be blest,
And to know that this world is divine.
It is mine—mine—
O Heart, it is thine—
The glance of love—of love!

LOVE'S FEARS.

A short hour parted—
A year!
I am doleful-hearted
My dear.

All day together,
Thine, mine;
Celestial weather,
Soul's wine!

And why not treasure
Word, kiss,
Wealth beyond measure
Of bliss?

Why picture you dead, love,
Or gone,—
A dark world instead, love,
And lone?

Whence are my fears now?
As tho',
Through tears and years now,
A low

Long vista show'd me
Thy star,
One sad ray allow'd me
From far.

TO BEATA.

I know, I see, that you are fair,
And so do other lips declare;
I love your face, I love your form;
My eyes grow dim, my heart grows warm,
With tender joy and pure affection,
At sight of these, or recollection.

And yet I could not nicely trace
From memory now your form and face;
I never sought to scrutinize
Your loveliness with curious eyes;
When with you, 'tis enough that I
So richly feel that you are nigh.

For I adore with fondest love
The earthly shape in which you move,
As being yours—not loving you
(Though you can gain such homage too)
Because your looks do also make
The promise which so many break.

The promise there is more than kept;
And deep love-founts, I know, have slept
In some hearts, till the power of God
In beauty's light material rod
Took shape and work'd a miracle—
But my love is a natural well.

A natural well, a centre given
To springs of earth and show'rs of heaven;
Whose earth-transmitted tinge of clay
Subsides at once, or melts away,
And leaves its heavenly birthplace shown,
In trembling softness of its own.

THE HAPPY MAN.

No longer any choice remains;
All beauty now I view,
All bliss that womankind contains,
Completely summ'd in you.

Your stature marks the proper height;
Your hair the finest shade;
Complexion—Love himself aright
Each varying tint hath laid.

No longer, &c.

Your voice—the very tone and pitch
Whereto my heart replies!
Blue eyes, or black, or hazel,—which
Are best? Your-colour'd eyes.

No longer, &c.

Your manners, gestures, being of you,
Most easily excel.
Have you defects? I love them too,
I love yourself so well.

No longer, &c.

To me, once careworn, veering, vext,
Kind fate my Queen hath sent;
In full allegiance, unperplext,
I live in sweet content.

No longer any choice remains;
All beauty now I view,
All bliss that womankind contains,
Completely summ'd in you.

A DAY OF DAYS.

Each rose before the sun, and saw the moon
A slender golden curvature embost
On the green eastern sky, which brighten'd soon
Till in its crimson wavelets she was lost,
And so began a perfect Day of June.
The river sparkled, birds voiced, breezes tost
A laughing world of flow'rs; blue shadows crost
The sunshine of the long warm afternoon.

But who inherited this wondrous Day?
Two happy Lovers. It was made for them,
Of time not measured by the moon or sun.
Both felt that it would never pass away.
And now, when music in the dusk was done,
King Love had all the stars for diadem.