IDYLLIC SKETCHES.
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rainy clouds are filing fast below,And wet will be the path, and wet shall we.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone,Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on?My sweetheart wanders far away from me,In foreign land or on a foreign sea.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And through the vale the rains go sweeping by;Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel theyO’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mindThe pleasant huts and herds he left behind?And doth he sometimes in his slumbering seeThe feeding kine, and doth he think of me,My sweetheart wandering wheresoe’er it be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The thunder bellows far from snow to snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And loud and louder roars the flood below.Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be:Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Or shall he find before his term be sped,Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)For weary is work, and weary day by dayTo have your comfort miles on miles away.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Or may it be that I shall find my mate,And he returning see himself too late?For work we must, and what we see, we see,And God he knows, and what must be, must be,When sweethearts wander far away from me.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The sky behind is brightening up anew(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rain is ending, and our journey too:Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:—In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rainy clouds are filing fast below,And wet will be the path, and wet shall we.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone,Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on?My sweetheart wanders far away from me,In foreign land or on a foreign sea.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And through the vale the rains go sweeping by;Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel theyO’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mindThe pleasant huts and herds he left behind?And doth he sometimes in his slumbering seeThe feeding kine, and doth he think of me,My sweetheart wandering wheresoe’er it be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The thunder bellows far from snow to snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And loud and louder roars the flood below.Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be:Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Or shall he find before his term be sped,Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)For weary is work, and weary day by dayTo have your comfort miles on miles away.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.Or may it be that I shall find my mate,And he returning see himself too late?For work we must, and what we see, we see,And God he knows, and what must be, must be,When sweethearts wander far away from me.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.The sky behind is brightening up anew(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rain is ending, and our journey too:Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:—In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rainy clouds are filing fast below,And wet will be the path, and wet shall we.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
The rainy clouds are filing fast below,
And wet will be the path, and wet shall we.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone,Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on?My sweetheart wanders far away from me,In foreign land or on a foreign sea.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone,
Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on?
My sweetheart wanders far away from me,
In foreign land or on a foreign sea.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And through the vale the rains go sweeping by;Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
And through the vale the rains go sweeping by;
Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be?
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel theyO’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mindThe pleasant huts and herds he left behind?And doth he sometimes in his slumbering seeThe feeding kine, and doth he think of me,My sweetheart wandering wheresoe’er it be?Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel they
O’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).
And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mind
The pleasant huts and herds he left behind?
And doth he sometimes in his slumbering see
The feeding kine, and doth he think of me,
My sweetheart wandering wheresoe’er it be?
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The thunder bellows far from snow to snow(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),And loud and louder roars the flood below.Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be:Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The thunder bellows far from snow to snow
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
And loud and louder roars the flood below.
Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be:
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or shall he find before his term be sped,Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)For weary is work, and weary day by dayTo have your comfort miles on miles away.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or shall he find before his term be sped,
Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)
For weary is work, and weary day by day
To have your comfort miles on miles away.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or may it be that I shall find my mate,And he returning see himself too late?For work we must, and what we see, we see,And God he knows, and what must be, must be,When sweethearts wander far away from me.Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or may it be that I shall find my mate,
And he returning see himself too late?
For work we must, and what we see, we see,
And God he knows, and what must be, must be,
When sweethearts wander far away from me.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The sky behind is brightening up anew(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),The rain is ending, and our journey too:Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:—In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.
The sky behind is brightening up anew
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
The rain is ending, and our journey too:
Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:—
In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.
On grass, on gravel, in the sun,Or now beneath the shade,They went, in pleasant Kensington,A prentice and a maid.That Sunday morning’s April glow,How should it not impartA stir about the veins that flowTo feed the youthful heart.Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat can compare with this?I read it in that arm she laysSo soft on his; her mien,Her step, her very gown betrays(What in her eyes were seen)That not in vain the young buds round,The cawing birds above,The air, the incense of the ground,Are whispering, breathing love.Ah! years may come, &c.To inclination, young and blind,So perfect, as they lent,By purest innocence confinedUnconscious free consent.Persuasive power of vernal change,On this, thine earliest day,Canst thou have found in all thy rangeOne fitter type than they?Ah! years may come, &c.Th’ high-titled cares of adult strife,Which we our duties call,Trades, arts, and politics of life,Say, have they after all,One other object, end or useThan that, for girl and boy,The punctual earth may still produceThis golden flower of joy?Ah! years may come, &c.O odours of new-budding rose,O lily’s chaste perfume,O fragrance that didst first uncloseThe young Creation’s bloom!Ye hang around me, while in sunAnon and now in shade,I watched in pleasant KensingtonThe prentice and the maid.Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat will compare with this?
On grass, on gravel, in the sun,Or now beneath the shade,They went, in pleasant Kensington,A prentice and a maid.That Sunday morning’s April glow,How should it not impartA stir about the veins that flowTo feed the youthful heart.Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat can compare with this?I read it in that arm she laysSo soft on his; her mien,Her step, her very gown betrays(What in her eyes were seen)That not in vain the young buds round,The cawing birds above,The air, the incense of the ground,Are whispering, breathing love.Ah! years may come, &c.To inclination, young and blind,So perfect, as they lent,By purest innocence confinedUnconscious free consent.Persuasive power of vernal change,On this, thine earliest day,Canst thou have found in all thy rangeOne fitter type than they?Ah! years may come, &c.Th’ high-titled cares of adult strife,Which we our duties call,Trades, arts, and politics of life,Say, have they after all,One other object, end or useThan that, for girl and boy,The punctual earth may still produceThis golden flower of joy?Ah! years may come, &c.O odours of new-budding rose,O lily’s chaste perfume,O fragrance that didst first uncloseThe young Creation’s bloom!Ye hang around me, while in sunAnon and now in shade,I watched in pleasant KensingtonThe prentice and the maid.Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat will compare with this?
On grass, on gravel, in the sun,Or now beneath the shade,They went, in pleasant Kensington,A prentice and a maid.
On grass, on gravel, in the sun,
Or now beneath the shade,
They went, in pleasant Kensington,
A prentice and a maid.
That Sunday morning’s April glow,How should it not impartA stir about the veins that flowTo feed the youthful heart.
That Sunday morning’s April glow,
How should it not impart
A stir about the veins that flow
To feed the youthful heart.
Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat can compare with this?
Ah! years may come, and years may bring
The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That can compare with this?
I read it in that arm she laysSo soft on his; her mien,Her step, her very gown betrays(What in her eyes were seen)That not in vain the young buds round,The cawing birds above,The air, the incense of the ground,Are whispering, breathing love.
I read it in that arm she lays
So soft on his; her mien,
Her step, her very gown betrays
(What in her eyes were seen)
That not in vain the young buds round,
The cawing birds above,
The air, the incense of the ground,
Are whispering, breathing love.
Ah! years may come, &c.
Ah! years may come, &c.
To inclination, young and blind,So perfect, as they lent,By purest innocence confinedUnconscious free consent.Persuasive power of vernal change,On this, thine earliest day,Canst thou have found in all thy rangeOne fitter type than they?
To inclination, young and blind,
So perfect, as they lent,
By purest innocence confined
Unconscious free consent.
Persuasive power of vernal change,
On this, thine earliest day,
Canst thou have found in all thy range
One fitter type than they?
Ah! years may come, &c.
Ah! years may come, &c.
Th’ high-titled cares of adult strife,Which we our duties call,Trades, arts, and politics of life,Say, have they after all,One other object, end or useThan that, for girl and boy,The punctual earth may still produceThis golden flower of joy?
Th’ high-titled cares of adult strife,
Which we our duties call,
Trades, arts, and politics of life,
Say, have they after all,
One other object, end or use
Than that, for girl and boy,
The punctual earth may still produce
This golden flower of joy?
Ah! years may come, &c.
Ah! years may come, &c.
O odours of new-budding rose,O lily’s chaste perfume,O fragrance that didst first uncloseThe young Creation’s bloom!Ye hang around me, while in sunAnon and now in shade,I watched in pleasant KensingtonThe prentice and the maid.
O odours of new-budding rose,
O lily’s chaste perfume,
O fragrance that didst first unclose
The young Creation’s bloom!
Ye hang around me, while in sun
Anon and now in shade,
I watched in pleasant Kensington
The prentice and the maid.
Ah! years may come, and years may bringThe truth that is not bliss,But will they bring another thingThat will compare with this?
Ah! years may come, and years may bring
The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That will compare with this?
Beside me,—in the car,—she sat,She spake not, no, nor looked to me:From her to me, from me to her,What passed so subtly, stealthily?As rose to rose that by it blowsIts interchanged aroma flings;Or wake to sound of one sweet noteThe virtues of disparted strings.Beside me, nought but this!—but this,That influent as within me dweltHer life, mine too within her breast,Her brain, her every limb she felt:We sat; while o’er and in us, moreAnd more, a power unknown prevailed,Inhaling, and inhaled,—and still’Twas one, inhaling or inhaled.Beside me, nought but this;—and passed;I passed; and know not to this dayIf gold or jet her girlish hair,If black, or brown, or lucid-greyHer eye’s young glance: the fickle chanceThat joined us, yet may join again;But I no face again could greetAs hers, whose life was in me then.As unsuspecting mere a maidAs, fresh in maidhood’s bloomiest bloom,In casual second-class did e’erBy casual youth her seat assume;Or vestal, say, of saintliest clay,For once by balmiest airs betrayedUnto emotions too, too sweetTo be unlingeringly gainsaid:Unowning then, confusing soonWith dreamier dreams that o’er the glassOf shyly ripening woman-senseReflected, scarce reflected, pass,A wife may-be, a mother sheIn Hymen’s shrine recalls not now,She first in hour, ah, not profane,With me to Hymen learnt to bow.Ah no!—Yet owned we, fused in one,The Power which e’en in stones and earthsBy blind elections felt, in formsOrganic breeds to myriad births;By lichen small on granite wallApproved, its faintest feeblest stirSlow spreading, strengthening long, at lastVibrated full in me and herIn me and her—sensation strange!The lily grew to pendent head,To vernal airs the mossy bankIts sheeny primrose spangles spread,In roof o’er roof of shade sun-proofDid cedar strong itself outclimb,And altitude of aloe proudAspire in floreal crown sublime;Flashed flickering forth fantastic flies,Big bees their burly bodies swung,Rooks roused with civic din the elms,And lark its wild reveillez rung;In Libyan dell the light gazelle,The leopard lithe in Indian glade,And dolphin, brightening tropic seas,In us were living, leapt and played:Their shells did slow crustacea build,Their gilded skins did snakes renew.While mightier spines for loftier kindTheir types in amplest limbs outgrew;Yea, close comprest in human breast,What moss, and tree, and livelier thing,What Earth, Sun, Star of force possest,Lay budding, burgeoning forth for SpringSuch sweet preluding sense of oldLed on in Eden’s sinless placeThe hour when bodies human firstCombined the primal prime embrace,Such genial heat the blissful seatIn man and woman owned unblamed,When, naked both, its garden pathsThey walked unconscious, unashamed:Ere, clouded yet in mistiest dawn,Above the horizon dusk and dun,One mountain crest with light had tippedThat Orb that is the Spirit’s Sun;Ere dreamed young flowers in vernal showersOf fruit to rise the flower above,Or ever yet to young DesireWas told the mystic name of Love.
Beside me,—in the car,—she sat,She spake not, no, nor looked to me:From her to me, from me to her,What passed so subtly, stealthily?As rose to rose that by it blowsIts interchanged aroma flings;Or wake to sound of one sweet noteThe virtues of disparted strings.Beside me, nought but this!—but this,That influent as within me dweltHer life, mine too within her breast,Her brain, her every limb she felt:We sat; while o’er and in us, moreAnd more, a power unknown prevailed,Inhaling, and inhaled,—and still’Twas one, inhaling or inhaled.Beside me, nought but this;—and passed;I passed; and know not to this dayIf gold or jet her girlish hair,If black, or brown, or lucid-greyHer eye’s young glance: the fickle chanceThat joined us, yet may join again;But I no face again could greetAs hers, whose life was in me then.As unsuspecting mere a maidAs, fresh in maidhood’s bloomiest bloom,In casual second-class did e’erBy casual youth her seat assume;Or vestal, say, of saintliest clay,For once by balmiest airs betrayedUnto emotions too, too sweetTo be unlingeringly gainsaid:Unowning then, confusing soonWith dreamier dreams that o’er the glassOf shyly ripening woman-senseReflected, scarce reflected, pass,A wife may-be, a mother sheIn Hymen’s shrine recalls not now,She first in hour, ah, not profane,With me to Hymen learnt to bow.Ah no!—Yet owned we, fused in one,The Power which e’en in stones and earthsBy blind elections felt, in formsOrganic breeds to myriad births;By lichen small on granite wallApproved, its faintest feeblest stirSlow spreading, strengthening long, at lastVibrated full in me and herIn me and her—sensation strange!The lily grew to pendent head,To vernal airs the mossy bankIts sheeny primrose spangles spread,In roof o’er roof of shade sun-proofDid cedar strong itself outclimb,And altitude of aloe proudAspire in floreal crown sublime;Flashed flickering forth fantastic flies,Big bees their burly bodies swung,Rooks roused with civic din the elms,And lark its wild reveillez rung;In Libyan dell the light gazelle,The leopard lithe in Indian glade,And dolphin, brightening tropic seas,In us were living, leapt and played:Their shells did slow crustacea build,Their gilded skins did snakes renew.While mightier spines for loftier kindTheir types in amplest limbs outgrew;Yea, close comprest in human breast,What moss, and tree, and livelier thing,What Earth, Sun, Star of force possest,Lay budding, burgeoning forth for SpringSuch sweet preluding sense of oldLed on in Eden’s sinless placeThe hour when bodies human firstCombined the primal prime embrace,Such genial heat the blissful seatIn man and woman owned unblamed,When, naked both, its garden pathsThey walked unconscious, unashamed:Ere, clouded yet in mistiest dawn,Above the horizon dusk and dun,One mountain crest with light had tippedThat Orb that is the Spirit’s Sun;Ere dreamed young flowers in vernal showersOf fruit to rise the flower above,Or ever yet to young DesireWas told the mystic name of Love.
Beside me,—in the car,—she sat,She spake not, no, nor looked to me:From her to me, from me to her,What passed so subtly, stealthily?As rose to rose that by it blowsIts interchanged aroma flings;Or wake to sound of one sweet noteThe virtues of disparted strings.
Beside me,—in the car,—she sat,
She spake not, no, nor looked to me:
From her to me, from me to her,
What passed so subtly, stealthily?
As rose to rose that by it blows
Its interchanged aroma flings;
Or wake to sound of one sweet note
The virtues of disparted strings.
Beside me, nought but this!—but this,That influent as within me dweltHer life, mine too within her breast,Her brain, her every limb she felt:We sat; while o’er and in us, moreAnd more, a power unknown prevailed,Inhaling, and inhaled,—and still’Twas one, inhaling or inhaled.
Beside me, nought but this!—but this,
That influent as within me dwelt
Her life, mine too within her breast,
Her brain, her every limb she felt:
We sat; while o’er and in us, more
And more, a power unknown prevailed,
Inhaling, and inhaled,—and still
’Twas one, inhaling or inhaled.
Beside me, nought but this;—and passed;I passed; and know not to this dayIf gold or jet her girlish hair,If black, or brown, or lucid-greyHer eye’s young glance: the fickle chanceThat joined us, yet may join again;But I no face again could greetAs hers, whose life was in me then.
Beside me, nought but this;—and passed;
I passed; and know not to this day
If gold or jet her girlish hair,
If black, or brown, or lucid-grey
Her eye’s young glance: the fickle chance
That joined us, yet may join again;
But I no face again could greet
As hers, whose life was in me then.
As unsuspecting mere a maidAs, fresh in maidhood’s bloomiest bloom,In casual second-class did e’erBy casual youth her seat assume;Or vestal, say, of saintliest clay,For once by balmiest airs betrayedUnto emotions too, too sweetTo be unlingeringly gainsaid:
As unsuspecting mere a maid
As, fresh in maidhood’s bloomiest bloom,
In casual second-class did e’er
By casual youth her seat assume;
Or vestal, say, of saintliest clay,
For once by balmiest airs betrayed
Unto emotions too, too sweet
To be unlingeringly gainsaid:
Unowning then, confusing soonWith dreamier dreams that o’er the glassOf shyly ripening woman-senseReflected, scarce reflected, pass,A wife may-be, a mother sheIn Hymen’s shrine recalls not now,She first in hour, ah, not profane,With me to Hymen learnt to bow.
Unowning then, confusing soon
With dreamier dreams that o’er the glass
Of shyly ripening woman-sense
Reflected, scarce reflected, pass,
A wife may-be, a mother she
In Hymen’s shrine recalls not now,
She first in hour, ah, not profane,
With me to Hymen learnt to bow.
Ah no!—Yet owned we, fused in one,The Power which e’en in stones and earthsBy blind elections felt, in formsOrganic breeds to myriad births;By lichen small on granite wallApproved, its faintest feeblest stirSlow spreading, strengthening long, at lastVibrated full in me and her
Ah no!—Yet owned we, fused in one,
The Power which e’en in stones and earths
By blind elections felt, in forms
Organic breeds to myriad births;
By lichen small on granite wall
Approved, its faintest feeblest stir
Slow spreading, strengthening long, at last
Vibrated full in me and her
In me and her—sensation strange!The lily grew to pendent head,To vernal airs the mossy bankIts sheeny primrose spangles spread,In roof o’er roof of shade sun-proofDid cedar strong itself outclimb,And altitude of aloe proudAspire in floreal crown sublime;
In me and her—sensation strange!
The lily grew to pendent head,
To vernal airs the mossy bank
Its sheeny primrose spangles spread,
In roof o’er roof of shade sun-proof
Did cedar strong itself outclimb,
And altitude of aloe proud
Aspire in floreal crown sublime;
Flashed flickering forth fantastic flies,Big bees their burly bodies swung,Rooks roused with civic din the elms,And lark its wild reveillez rung;In Libyan dell the light gazelle,The leopard lithe in Indian glade,And dolphin, brightening tropic seas,In us were living, leapt and played:
Flashed flickering forth fantastic flies,
Big bees their burly bodies swung,
Rooks roused with civic din the elms,
And lark its wild reveillez rung;
In Libyan dell the light gazelle,
The leopard lithe in Indian glade,
And dolphin, brightening tropic seas,
In us were living, leapt and played:
Their shells did slow crustacea build,Their gilded skins did snakes renew.While mightier spines for loftier kindTheir types in amplest limbs outgrew;Yea, close comprest in human breast,What moss, and tree, and livelier thing,What Earth, Sun, Star of force possest,Lay budding, burgeoning forth for Spring
Their shells did slow crustacea build,
Their gilded skins did snakes renew.
While mightier spines for loftier kind
Their types in amplest limbs outgrew;
Yea, close comprest in human breast,
What moss, and tree, and livelier thing,
What Earth, Sun, Star of force possest,
Lay budding, burgeoning forth for Spring
Such sweet preluding sense of oldLed on in Eden’s sinless placeThe hour when bodies human firstCombined the primal prime embrace,Such genial heat the blissful seatIn man and woman owned unblamed,When, naked both, its garden pathsThey walked unconscious, unashamed:
Such sweet preluding sense of old
Led on in Eden’s sinless place
The hour when bodies human first
Combined the primal prime embrace,
Such genial heat the blissful seat
In man and woman owned unblamed,
When, naked both, its garden paths
They walked unconscious, unashamed:
Ere, clouded yet in mistiest dawn,Above the horizon dusk and dun,One mountain crest with light had tippedThat Orb that is the Spirit’s Sun;Ere dreamed young flowers in vernal showersOf fruit to rise the flower above,Or ever yet to young DesireWas told the mystic name of Love.
Ere, clouded yet in mistiest dawn,
Above the horizon dusk and dun,
One mountain crest with light had tipped
That Orb that is the Spirit’s Sun;
Ere dreamed young flowers in vernal showers
Of fruit to rise the flower above,
Or ever yet to young Desire
Was told the mystic name of Love.