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Poems and Essays

By the late William Caldwell Roscoe. (Edited with a Prefatory Memoir, by his Brother-in-law, Richard Holt Hutton)
Roscoe, William Caldwell (1823-1859)

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MINOR POEMS.
  
[Clouds and mists and vapours dim]
  
THE FALSE FONTANLEE.
  
F. M.
  
AD PYRRHAM.
  
TO LAURA R.,
  
ARIADNE.
  
A NIGHTINGALE IN EASTBURY WOODS.
  
AFTER THE HUNGARIAN WAR.
  
OPPORTUNITY.
  
LINES AFTER MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO THE PLANET VENUS,
  
[Rarely to our mortal eyes]
  
TO THE MARCH SUN.
  
A DREAM AND NO DREAM.
  
VENIT.
  
[When I asked her, “Wilt thou kiss me?’]
  
THE GOLDEN DAYS.
  
LOVE'S CREED.
  
[On many an English lady's face]
  
EXCUSE.
  
[A presence! a glory celestial!]
  
SONG.
  
OVER THE WEST.
  
“FREI IST DER BURSCH!”
  
TO LITTLE A. C. IN THE GARDEN AT EASTBURY.
  
FOR EVER.
  
AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
AT THE SAME TIME.
  
AT NIGHT, AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
[Why fear that the departed grieves]
  
FORD GREY OF WERKE TO HIS MISTRESS.
  
[I have a thought that fain would speak]
  
“IF IT DIE, IT BRINGETH FORTH MUCH FRUIT.”
  
MUSIC.
  
A BLIND GIRL'S QUESTIONINGS.
  
BEFORE DAWN.
  
BY THE SEASHORE.
  
A VISION.
  
[Lord, at thy feet we do not kneel]
  
THE YEAR OF LOVE.
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SONNETS.
  
A WET AUTUMN.
  
AT THE CHESHIRE POINT, LINLEY WOOD.
  
[Like a musician that with flying finger]
  
AT NIGHT.
  
MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
GIBSON'S STATUE OF AURORA.
  
TO M. S.
  
M. S.
  
TO THE REV. JOHN HAMILTON THOM.
  
[O Muse the Comforter! that in this vale]
  
TO A LADY PREFERRING CALM TO PASSIONATE POETRY.
  
LAUDATRIX TEMPORIS ACTI.
  
MIDNIGHT ON NEW YEAR'S EVE.
  
THE TWO NIGHTS.
  
A CHRISTMAS SONNET.
  
[Sad is my lot; among the shining spheres]
  
TO A FRIEND IN GRIEF.
  
TO A FRIEND.
  
IN DEJECTION. I.
  
IN DEJECTION II.
  
I
  
II
  
III
  
DAYBREAK IN FEBRUARY.
  
SYMBOLS OF VICTORY.
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ELIDUKE, COUNT OF YVELOC.
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ACT I
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Scene I.
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ACT II.
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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VIOLENZIA.
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ACT I.
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Scene I.
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ACT II.
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 VIII. 
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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Scene III.
  
[The bubble of the silver-springing waves]

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58

[Why fear that the departed grieves]

“How is it? Canst thou feel for me
Some painless sympathy with pain?”
In Memoriam.

Why fear that the departed grieves,
Far from the mourner whom she leaves?
Who shall deny that when he stands,
With aching breast and strained hands,
His wan face raised to empty air,
And his hopes darkening to despair,—
E'en then the spirit whom he loved,
By close affection deeply moved,
Comes, with a swift angelic grace,
And gazes on the dear loved face,
Yearns to wipe off the raining tears,
And whisper comfort in his ears?
Or rather, from beyond the flood
Leaning her young beatitude,
Sighs only gently to behold
How grief's sharp fires transmute her gold,
And, rich in insight newly given,
Counts every faltering step to Heaven?
Rests tenderly a soft distress
Upon the coming happiness;
59

And blest to think how short a time
Severs these frosts from golden prime,
Smiles, as a mother smiles to trace
Brief showers roll down her baby's face.
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