At whose light fall awaking, all my heart Grew populous with gracious, favoured thought, And all night long thereafter, hour by hour, The pageant of dead love before my eyes Went proudly, and old hopes with downcast head Followed like Kings, subdued in Rome's imperial hour, Followed the car; and I . . .
SINCE THOU HAST GIVEN ME THIS GOOD HOPE, O GODSINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God, That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod And the great woods embower me, and white dawn And purple even sweetly lead me on From day to day, and night to night, O God, My life shall no wise miss the light of love;But ever climbing, climb above Man's one poor star, man's supine lands, Into the azure steadfastness of death, My life shall no wise lack the light of love, My hands not lack the loving touch of hands;But day by day, while yet I draw my breath, And day by day, unto my last of years, I shall be one that has a perfect friend.
Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears, And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.
GOD GAVE TO ME A CHILD IN PART
GOD gave to me a child in part, Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now, Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?
You came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb, Nor knew the kindly feel of home.
My voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;And, pitying, you may turn your view On that poor father whom you never knew.
Alas! alone he sits, who then, Immortal among mortal men, Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through With your dear mother wondered over you.
OVER THE LAND IS APRIL
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose;Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes.
Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain, Love, do you hear me sing?
By highway, love, and byway The snows succeed the rose.
Over the high, brown mountain The wind of winter blows.
Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain I sound the song of spring, I throw the flowers of spring.
Do you hear the song of spring?
Hear you the songs of spring?
LIGHT AS THE LINNET ON MY WAY I START
LIGHT as the linnet on my way I start, For all my pack I bear a chartered heart.
Forth on the world without a guide or chart, Content to know, through all man's varying fates, The eternal woman by the wayside waits.
COME, HERE IS ADIEU TO THE CITY
COME, here is adieu to the city And hurrah for the country again.
The broad road lies before me Watered with last night's rain.
The timbered country woos me With many a high and bough;And again in the shining fallows The ploughman follows the plough.
The whole year's sweat and study, And the whole year's sowing time, Comes now to the perfect harvest, And ripens now into rhyme.
For we that sow in the Autumn, We reap our grain in the Spring, And we that go sowing and weeping Return to reap and sing.
IT BLOWS A SNOWING GALE
IT blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.
The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro, A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.
Autumn leaves and rain, The passion of the gale.
NE SIT ANCILLAE TIBI AMOR PUDOR
THERE'S just a twinkle in your eye That seems to say I MIGHT, if IWere only bold enough to try An arm about your waist.
I hear, too, as you come and go, That pretty nervous laugh, you know;And then your cap is always so Coquettishly displaced.
Your cap! the word's profanely said.
That little top-knot, white and red, That quaintly crowns your graceful head, No bigger than a flower, Is set with such a witching art, Is so provocatively smart, I'd like to wear it on my heart, An order for an hour!
O graceful housemaid, tall and fair, I love your shy imperial air, And always loiter on the stair When you are going by.
A strict reserve the fates demand;
But, when to let you pass I stand, Sometimes by chance I touch your hand And sometimes catch your eye.
TO ALL THAT LOVE THE FAR AND BLUE
TO all that love the far and blue:
Whether, from dawn to eve, on foot The fleeing corners ye pursue, Nor weary of the vain pursuit;Or whether down the singing stream, Paddle in hand, jocund ye shoot, To splash beside the splashing bream Or anchor by the willow root:
Or, bolder, from the narrow shore Put forth, that cedar ark to steer, Among the seabirds and the roar Of the great sea, profound and clear;Or, lastly if in heart ye roam, Not caring to do else, and hear, Safe sitting by the fire at home, Footfalls in Utah or Pamere:
Though long the way, though hard to bear The sun and rain, the dust and dew;Though still attainment and despair Inter the old, despoil the new;There shall at length, be sure, O friends, Howe'er ye steer, whate'er ye do -At length, and at the end of ends, The golden city come in view.
THOU STRAINEST THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN FERN
(A FRAGMENT)
THOU strainest through the mountain fern, A most exiguously thin Burn.
For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well-a-day for Mr. Swin-Burne!
Take then this quarto in thy fin And, O thou stoker huge and stern, The whole affair, outside and in, Burn!
But save the true poetic kin, The works of Mr. Robert Burn'
And William Wordsworth upon Tin-Tern!
TO ROSABELLE
WHEN my young lady has grown great and staid, And in long raiment wondrously arrayed, She may take pleasure with a smile to know How she delighted men-folk long ago.
For her long after, then, this tale I tell Of the two fans and fairy Rosabelle.
Hot was the day; her weary sire and I
Sat in our chairs companionably nigh, Each with a headache sat her sire and I.
Instant the hostess waked: she viewed the scene, Divined the giants' languor by their mien, And with hospitable care Tackled at once an Atlantean chair.