Life and Phantasy by William Allingham: With frontispiece by Sir John E. Millais: A design by Arthur H. Hughes and a song for voice and piano forte |
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| BERRIES. |
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 | Life and Phantasy |  |
101
BERRIES.
[“Why, yes—we've pass'd a pleasant day]
“Why, yes—we've pass'd a pleasant day;While life's true joys are on their way.”
Ah, me! I now look back afar,
And see that one day like a star.
[Everything passes and vanishes]
Everything passes and vanishes;Everything leaves its trace;
And often you see in a footstep
What you could not see in a face.
[This patchwork world of things confus'dly named]
This patchwork world of things confus'dly named,What voice a frank account thereof could give
And not be almost for a devil's blamed?
Dear trusting eager Spirits, how shall I
To your incessant questionings reply?
Children! they make me heartily ashamed
That we amid such rubbish-mountains live,
And true horizons hardly can espy.
102
[In a sad infernal glen]
In a sad infernal glenI saw Ghosts of Famous Men,
Writhing, groaning, “Tell me why?”
“Waiting till our bad books die.
Help with fire! Each new edition
Brings new torture, new contrition.
O the word!—the poison drop!
The little seed!—the dreadful crop!”
TWELVE SEVENS.
Seven years he lives a merry, careless Child,Seven, Boy, excited, simple, curious, wild;
Seven, Lad, bold, eager, vext with pains of growth;
Seven, Young Man, seeking work and pleasure both;
Seven, Man, with all his active powers in swing;
Seven, Man matured,—if virtuous, then a king;
Seven, Man composed, serene; seven elderly,
Grave, retrospective Senior. Sixty-three
Has brought him to the frontier of Old Age.
At seventy he has reach'd its second stage;
Its third with trembling steps in seven years more.
And if his sevens drag on to eighty-four,
Full welcome be the friendly, shadowy door!
103
[Leave me but quiet for a thousand years!]
Leave me but quiet for a thousand years!No duties, troubles, pleasures, hopes, or fears,
No sun or moon with sad returning beam,
Only a faintly glimmering world, half dream,
To faintly touch my senses; rest I would,
Forget the tangled life, the bad and good,
And everything that has been,—drinking deep
The freshness of regenerating sleep;
Ages and æons of celestial rest;
To wake—I know not when: sleep now were best.
[Man's found by his event. Not whirlwind Chance]
Man's found by his event. Not whirlwind ChanceBlows round the mystic multitudinous dance,
But Music, heard by ear the finest touch,
Sways all in order. Wisdom's ear is such.
[“New Heavens and New Earth,”—must all be new-created?]
“New Heavens and New Earth,”—must all be new-created?No. One touch to your microcosm may do whatsoever is fated;
One touch on yourself can alter the Heavens and Earth for you,
Change your old Heavens and Earth in a twinkling into new.
| Life and Phantasy | |