Dramatic Scenes With Other Poems, Now First Printed. By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter]. Illustrated |
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AN INTERIOR. |
 | Dramatic Scenes |  |
AN INTERIOR.
Unloose your heart, and let me see
What's hid within that ruby round;
Let every fold be now unbound.
What's here? Belief?—impiety?
Good—bad—indifferent? Let them be.
What's hid within that ruby round;
Let every fold be now unbound.
What's here? Belief?—impiety?
Good—bad—indifferent? Let them be.
I see the crude half-finished thought;
The scrambling fancies, one by one,
Come out and stretch them in the sun.
And what's that in the distance, wrought,
Clear, round, prismatic?—It is nought,—
The scrambling fancies, one by one,
Come out and stretch them in the sun.
317
Clear, round, prismatic?—It is nought,—
A bubble, swollen to its best,
Its largest shape; yet overmuch.
'Twill shrink, I fancy, at a touch:
Yet, I'll not touch it:—Let it rest,
An egg within a viper's nest.
Its largest shape; yet overmuch.
'Twill shrink, I fancy, at a touch:
Yet, I'll not touch it:—Let it rest,
An egg within a viper's nest.
Hatched into life, I see it swell,
Burst, bare at once its poison fangs.
Alas, sir, on how little hangs
My life; your doing ill or well.
Who'd think that you would ring my knell?
Burst, bare at once its poison fangs.
Alas, sir, on how little hangs
My life; your doing ill or well.
Who'd think that you would ring my knell?
I thought you were my friend, the flower
Of jolly, gamesome, rosy friends.
Well, here our ill-paired union ends.
I leave you: Should I have the power,
I'll sting you in your latest hour.
Of jolly, gamesome, rosy friends.
Well, here our ill-paired union ends.
I leave you: Should I have the power,
I'll sting you in your latest hour.
No,—let's jog on, from morn to night;
Less close than we were wont, indeed;
Why should I hate, because I read
The spots kept secret from my sight,
And force some unborn sins to light?
Less close than we were wont, indeed;
Why should I hate, because I read
The spots kept secret from my sight,
And force some unborn sins to light?
318
All's mingled here, if keenly scanned;
No element is simple found;
But mixed and massed with other ground,—
Air,—water:—So, I'll keep my stand,
And march with you to the evening land.
No element is simple found;
But mixed and massed with other ground,—
Air,—water:—So, I'll keep my stand,
And march with you to the evening land.
| Dramatic Scenes | |