ページの画像
PDF
ePub

VI.

Such life here, through such lengths of hours,
Such miracles performed in play,
Such primal naked forms of flowers,
Such letting nature have her way
While heaven looks from its towers!

VII.

How say you? Let us, O my dove,
Let us be unashamed of soul,
As earth lies bare to heaven above!
How is it under our control
To love or not to love?

VIII.

I would that you were all to me,

You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!

Where does the fault lie? What the core

O' the wound, since wound must be?

IX.

I would I could adopt your will,
See with your eyes, and set my heart
Beating by yours, and drink my fill

At

your

soul's springs, your part my part

In life, for good and ill.

X.

No. I yearn upward, touch you close,
Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,
Catch your soul's warmth, I pluck the rose
And love it more than tongue can speak —
Then the good minute goes.

XI.

Already how am I so far

Out of that minute? Must I go

Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,

Onward, whenever light winds blow,

Fixed by no friendly star?

XII.

Just when I seemed about to learn!

Where is the thread now? Off again!

[blocks in formation]

This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure

Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,-
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

II.

This is a heart the Queen leant on.

Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,

Meet for love's regal dalmatic.
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic

Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!

A SERENADE AT THE VILLA.

I.

That was I, you heard last night
When there rose no moon at all,
Nor, to pierce the strained and tight

Tent of heaven, a planet small:
Life was dead and so was light.

II.

Not a twinkle from the fly,

Not a glimmer from the worm; When the crickets stopped their cry,

When the owls forbore a term, You heard music; that was I.

III.

Earth turned in her sleep with pain,

Sultrily suspired for proof:

In at heaven and out again,

Lightning! - where it broke the roof, Bloodlike, some few drops of rain.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

So wore night; the East was gray, White the broad-faced hemlock-flowers There would be another day;

Ere its first of heavy hours Found me, I had passed away.

VI.

What became of all the hopes,

Words and song and lute as well? Say, this struck you "When life gropes Feebly for the path where fell Light last on the evening slopes,

VII.

"One friend in that path shall be,
To secure my step from wrong;
One to count night day for me,
Patient through the watches long,
Serving most with none to see."

VIII.

Never say as something bodes
"So, the worst has yet a worse!
When life halts 'neath double loads,
Better the task-master's curse
Than such music on the roads!

IX.

"When no moon succeeds the sun,

Nor can pierce the midnight's tent

Any star, the smallest one,

While some drops, where lightning rent, Show the final storm begun

X.

"When the fire-fly hides its spot,

When the garden-voices fail In the darkness thick and hot, Shall another voice avail,

That shape be where these are not?

XI.

"Has some plague a longer lease, Proffering its help uncouth? Can't one even die in peace?

As one shuts one's eyes on youth, Is that face the last one sees?"

XII.

Oh how dark your villa was,
Windows fast and obdurate!
How the garden grudged me grass
Where I stood the iron gate
Ground its teeth to let me pass!

ONE WAY OF LOVE.

I.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves.
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves
And strew them where Pauline may pass.
She will not turn aside? Alas!

Let them lie. Suppose they die?

The chance was they might take her eye.

II.

How many a month I strove to suit
These stubborn fingers to the lute!
To-day I venture all I know.

She will not hear my music? So!
Break the string; fold music's wing:
Suppose Pauline had bade me sing!

III.

My whole life long I learned to love.
This hour my utmost art I prove
And speak my passion-heaven or hell?

She will not give me heaven? "T is well!
I still can say,

Lose who

may

Those who win heaven, blest are they!

ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE.

I.

June was not over
Though past the full,
And the best of her roses
Had yet to blow,

When a man I know (But shall not discover, Since ears are dull,

And time discloses)

Turned him and said with a man's true air,
Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as 't were,
"If I tire of your June, will she greatly care?

II.

Well, dear, in-doors with you!

True! serene deadness

Tries a man's temper.

What's in the blossom

June wears on her bosom?

Can it clear scores with you?

Sweetness and redness,

Eadem semper !

Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly!

[ocr errors]

If June mend her bower now, your hand left unsightly

By plucking the roses,

And after, for pastime,

-

my June will do rightly.

III.

If June be refulgent
With flowers in completeness,
All petals, no prickles,
Delicious as trickles

Of wine poured at mass-time,

And choose One indulgent

To redness and sweetness:

Or if, with experience of man and of spider,

June use my June-lightning, the strong insect-ridder,

And stop the fresh film-work,

why, June will consider.

« 前へ次へ »