We love, and O! we know it; yet Love's nameUpon our lips a tremulous wish must die;We both were made for loving, you and I,And still was Love denied. To both it came,More fleeting than the beauty of a flame:Now each within the other's hungering eyeBeholds the corse of Joy embalmèd lie,And smiles to know his penury the same.There is no sorrow in this love, O Friend,New-sprung from ruin, tho' our lips be sealedBy silence and the world's hard fetter. DearTo me your being; yet we know nor fearOf loss nor of possession; here's a shieldShall part us nobly faithful to the end.
We love, and O! we know it; yet Love's nameUpon our lips a tremulous wish must die;We both were made for loving, you and I,And still was Love denied. To both it came,More fleeting than the beauty of a flame:Now each within the other's hungering eyeBeholds the corse of Joy embalmèd lie,And smiles to know his penury the same.There is no sorrow in this love, O Friend,New-sprung from ruin, tho' our lips be sealedBy silence and the world's hard fetter. DearTo me your being; yet we know nor fearOf loss nor of possession; here's a shieldShall part us nobly faithful to the end.
You too mistook me; for no man is wiseWhom Love enclouds. Nor soul-piercing nor keenYour vision, else there never would have beenA cause for parting. Love-enwrapped, your eyesFailed in my love Love's self to recognise:You saw its outer garment, where the greenOf perfect faith was marred by passion's sheen,By outworn patience and desire's disguise.Had you but read me to the inner soul,You would have held me fast. I can foregoAll that is sought of hand and lip, the wholeOf Love's poor joy. But I have need to knowThat, when the heart fails, I may come and restMy head upon your wide and sheltering breast.
You too mistook me; for no man is wiseWhom Love enclouds. Nor soul-piercing nor keenYour vision, else there never would have beenA cause for parting. Love-enwrapped, your eyesFailed in my love Love's self to recognise:You saw its outer garment, where the greenOf perfect faith was marred by passion's sheen,By outworn patience and desire's disguise.Had you but read me to the inner soul,You would have held me fast. I can foregoAll that is sought of hand and lip, the wholeOf Love's poor joy. But I have need to knowThat, when the heart fails, I may come and restMy head upon your wide and sheltering breast.
O your voice, your voice in the night!How shall I wipe your voice from the night?Only Hope could wipe it away—And you have driven Hope away.O your eyes, your eyes in my sight!How shall I hide your eyes from my sight?Only Joy could hide them away,And you have driven Joy away.O your name, your name in the light!How shall I thrust your name from the light?Only Love could thrust it away,And you have driven Love away.
O your voice, your voice in the night!How shall I wipe your voice from the night?Only Hope could wipe it away—And you have driven Hope away.
O your eyes, your eyes in my sight!How shall I hide your eyes from my sight?Only Joy could hide them away,And you have driven Joy away.
O your name, your name in the light!How shall I thrust your name from the light?Only Love could thrust it away,And you have driven Love away.
My heart is weary of Love and Hate:Too sick of its Love to love you still,Too sick of its Hate to hate you yet—My heart is weary and would forget.O give me nothing! 'Tis far too late:Your much were little my thirst to fill,Your little were scorn of Faith so deep—O give me nothing!—and let me sleep.
My heart is weary of Love and Hate:Too sick of its Love to love you still,Too sick of its Hate to hate you yet—My heart is weary and would forget.
O give me nothing! 'Tis far too late:Your much were little my thirst to fill,Your little were scorn of Faith so deep—O give me nothing!—and let me sleep.
I want to take my heart away,Break it away from the branch where it clings;I want to quit the barren sprayWhere now no throstle sings.The butterflies have long since gone,Gone to the bough where the gay blossoms are;The sinking sun now bears the dawnTo other lands afar.I want to break my heart away,Tear it away from the bough where it grows;O for the light of a free new day,On the hill beyond the snows!
I want to take my heart away,Break it away from the branch where it clings;I want to quit the barren sprayWhere now no throstle sings.
The butterflies have long since gone,Gone to the bough where the gay blossoms are;The sinking sun now bears the dawnTo other lands afar.
I want to break my heart away,Tear it away from the bough where it grows;O for the light of a free new day,On the hill beyond the snows!
One tree in my garden, one treeOut of all the forests of the world:One little ship afloat upon the sea,One shell beneath the waves, flawless and pearled:One rose on my bower, one roseFor a day to scatter on the grass:One shifting star agleam where the wind blows,One gem upheld, that all may share who pass:One heart to be ached for, one heartOut of all the bosoms that are here:One fragile hope alive, the starver's part,One joy already faint and pale with fear:One flame in the darkness, one flame[71]For the night to sever with a breath:One poor faith fettered to a mortal name—And over all, the beating wings of death....
One tree in my garden, one treeOut of all the forests of the world:One little ship afloat upon the sea,One shell beneath the waves, flawless and pearled:
One rose on my bower, one roseFor a day to scatter on the grass:One shifting star agleam where the wind blows,One gem upheld, that all may share who pass:
One heart to be ached for, one heartOut of all the bosoms that are here:One fragile hope alive, the starver's part,One joy already faint and pale with fear:
One flame in the darkness, one flame[71]For the night to sever with a breath:One poor faith fettered to a mortal name—And over all, the beating wings of death....
I sometimes watch the lips of other womenAnd think of all the kisses they have known;I sometimes touch the hands of other womenIn wonder at the memoried palms they own....The kiss upon my brow was sadly given,The hands I held but once were not my own;And yet I would not change what I was givenFor all the kisses I have never known....Nor would I change again my heart's white desert;O wondrous are the meetings I have known,And strange the eyes that seek me in the desert,Then smiling vanish to rejoin their own....
I sometimes watch the lips of other womenAnd think of all the kisses they have known;I sometimes touch the hands of other womenIn wonder at the memoried palms they own....
The kiss upon my brow was sadly given,The hands I held but once were not my own;And yet I would not change what I was givenFor all the kisses I have never known....
Nor would I change again my heart's white desert;O wondrous are the meetings I have known,And strange the eyes that seek me in the desert,Then smiling vanish to rejoin their own....
Now empty lies the house. The languid airUnstirred by voices creeps from room to room;No footstep falls upon the silent stair,All's still and dark. In every nook the tombOf some thought lies; remembrance everywhereLingers to seek a joy no longer there;And, as I sit here lonely in the gloom,I ask myself which evil I would choose:Never to have, or else to have, and lose.
Now empty lies the house. The languid airUnstirred by voices creeps from room to room;No footstep falls upon the silent stair,All's still and dark. In every nook the tombOf some thought lies; remembrance everywhereLingers to seek a joy no longer there;And, as I sit here lonely in the gloom,I ask myself which evil I would choose:Never to have, or else to have, and lose.
Within me now my heart's asleepAnd none shall wake it more;The silence of all pain is deepWithin me. Now my heart's asleep,It dreams of joys it might not keep;And nothing looks beforeWithin me now. My heart's asleepAnd none shall wake it more.
Within me now my heart's asleepAnd none shall wake it more;The silence of all pain is deepWithin me. Now my heart's asleep,It dreams of joys it might not keep;And nothing looks beforeWithin me now. My heart's asleepAnd none shall wake it more.
Black winds of the world!There is pity in your breath,Against wild tempest weaponing.Grey clouds of the sky!You are gentle in your shade,Against night-darkness tempering.Red wounds of the heart!There is mercy in your blood,Against hope-murder hardening.Pale swoons of the soul!You are tender in your pangsAgainst dire death emboldening.
Black winds of the world!There is pity in your breath,Against wild tempest weaponing.
Grey clouds of the sky!You are gentle in your shade,Against night-darkness tempering.
Red wounds of the heart!There is mercy in your blood,Against hope-murder hardening.
Pale swoons of the soul!You are tender in your pangsAgainst dire death emboldening.
I dreamed that, wandering by a river's bank,I came across a lonely ship that sankIn lifeless waters. Day was dim;—in dreamsWe see nor sun, nor moon; unearthly gleamsOf deadened light fall strangely from the sky.—There were but three that struggled not to die:A man, a woman, and a tender child;He sought to save them both with effort wildAnd dragged his love to the entangled shore;But down the slimy weeds she slid once moreInto the water, and her lover's breastReceived her, and together they found rest.The child was saved; my hand towards her handOutstretched, drew all her sweetness to the land,Where naked, like a lily wet with rain,She sank and loudly wept at her life's gain.Quite small she was, and light; I bore her fast[77]To what seemed home, and there she smiled at lastAnd sat upright within my arms; I foundA bright-hued veil wherein to wrap her round,Tissues that far in morning-lands were spunBy those who love the flowers and the sun.I laid her softly in a silken bed,Strewed fragrant violets about her headAnd left her.'Twas my dream then that I slept.But when at dawn unto her bed I crept,The child was lost. Her pillow was all wetWith tears that still flowed on; and faster yetThey flowed in quickening rills, until I thoughtI stood beside a torrent wide that soughtAn unknown sea. The day was sad, tho' young;Upon a misty branch some bird had sungAnd left a trembling silence; all aroundI saw the little daisies on the groundFast closed, with folded arm-petals in vainShielding their yellow hearts from the cold rain.—A voice invisible made murmur then:[78]'Come here and look upon these poor drowned men!The ship was sunk a year ago to-day....'But I stepped back and shuddering turned away,For I had never seen the face of Death.Yet Fear itself soon drew me with quick breathBack to the place, even to the river's brinkWhere I had seen that lonely vessel sink.And there in waters deep I saw them lie,With hands at rest and eyes that sought the sky:Clear eyes wide open to an unseen day.In wondrous silence motionless they lay,With white lips smiling on their spirit's bliss.'Is Death but this?' I cried, 'no more but this?'And answer came: 'Among those faces thereAre all unknown?''Twas then I saw him, fairWith perfect peace, my enemy, even heOf all the world who most had tortured me.He lay there, blessed among the blessed, and smiledWith eyes more pure than any wakening child.The little waves in passing—like the breeze[79]That stirs the foliage of the unmoved trees—Played in their hair, and fluttering grasses roseAnd fell and danced about their mute repose.But I gazed on until I too had drunkOf their lips' joy, until their peace had sunkInto my troubling earth-stirred heart that achedTo join them ... and then waked....
I dreamed that, wandering by a river's bank,I came across a lonely ship that sankIn lifeless waters. Day was dim;—in dreamsWe see nor sun, nor moon; unearthly gleamsOf deadened light fall strangely from the sky.—There were but three that struggled not to die:A man, a woman, and a tender child;He sought to save them both with effort wildAnd dragged his love to the entangled shore;But down the slimy weeds she slid once moreInto the water, and her lover's breastReceived her, and together they found rest.The child was saved; my hand towards her handOutstretched, drew all her sweetness to the land,Where naked, like a lily wet with rain,She sank and loudly wept at her life's gain.Quite small she was, and light; I bore her fast[77]To what seemed home, and there she smiled at lastAnd sat upright within my arms; I foundA bright-hued veil wherein to wrap her round,Tissues that far in morning-lands were spunBy those who love the flowers and the sun.I laid her softly in a silken bed,Strewed fragrant violets about her headAnd left her.'Twas my dream then that I slept.But when at dawn unto her bed I crept,The child was lost. Her pillow was all wetWith tears that still flowed on; and faster yetThey flowed in quickening rills, until I thoughtI stood beside a torrent wide that soughtAn unknown sea. The day was sad, tho' young;Upon a misty branch some bird had sungAnd left a trembling silence; all aroundI saw the little daisies on the groundFast closed, with folded arm-petals in vainShielding their yellow hearts from the cold rain.—A voice invisible made murmur then:[78]'Come here and look upon these poor drowned men!The ship was sunk a year ago to-day....'But I stepped back and shuddering turned away,For I had never seen the face of Death.Yet Fear itself soon drew me with quick breathBack to the place, even to the river's brinkWhere I had seen that lonely vessel sink.And there in waters deep I saw them lie,With hands at rest and eyes that sought the sky:Clear eyes wide open to an unseen day.In wondrous silence motionless they lay,With white lips smiling on their spirit's bliss.'Is Death but this?' I cried, 'no more but this?'And answer came: 'Among those faces thereAre all unknown?''Twas then I saw him, fairWith perfect peace, my enemy, even heOf all the world who most had tortured me.He lay there, blessed among the blessed, and smiledWith eyes more pure than any wakening child.The little waves in passing—like the breeze[79]That stirs the foliage of the unmoved trees—Played in their hair, and fluttering grasses roseAnd fell and danced about their mute repose.But I gazed on until I too had drunkOf their lips' joy, until their peace had sunkInto my troubling earth-stirred heart that achedTo join them ... and then waked....
There lay a man on clovered groundWhose life was death, he slept so sound;A child bent low to watch his eyes—He smiling waked, and saw the skies.I know a soul now, fast asleep,Whose dreams are sad: I hear him weep;I bend and gaze for pity's sake—But all in vain; he will not wake.
There lay a man on clovered groundWhose life was death, he slept so sound;A child bent low to watch his eyes—He smiling waked, and saw the skies.
I know a soul now, fast asleep,Whose dreams are sad: I hear him weep;I bend and gaze for pity's sake—But all in vain; he will not wake.
O Kings and Queens, that in my happy heart,As in a royal chapel, warm and white,Ensanctuaried are! I come to-nightBeneath the moonless sky—this radiant chartOf the unfathomable Heavens where dartBeam-trailing stars—with lamp of love alightUnto your images; my reverent sightEnfolds you, and I bring you each your partOf piety. The Will that guides each starGave jewels to my hands I might not hold,Whose grace remembered fills my palm. So rest,O Joy-givers! your kingdoms are afar,Yet here I own you, shrined in pearls and gold,The sovereign captives of my loyal breast.
O Kings and Queens, that in my happy heart,As in a royal chapel, warm and white,Ensanctuaried are! I come to-nightBeneath the moonless sky—this radiant chartOf the unfathomable Heavens where dartBeam-trailing stars—with lamp of love alightUnto your images; my reverent sightEnfolds you, and I bring you each your partOf piety. The Will that guides each starGave jewels to my hands I might not hold,Whose grace remembered fills my palm. So rest,O Joy-givers! your kingdoms are afar,Yet here I own you, shrined in pearls and gold,The sovereign captives of my loyal breast.
I know a garden near the gates of RomeWhere Life and Death hold hands in silence; hereIn solemn shade where towering cypress rearTheir green eternal, white as wind-led foamLie scattered stones that shield the final homeOf exiles. Fair their bed; by violets dearAnd swaying roses decked; above them, clearIn bluest glory arches Heaven's dome.'Twas here my heart encountered peace one dayBeside an old man's grave that said: If GodCondemn you live beyond your friend, this wayYou too may rest.—The heart is childish; dreadOf earth-loss fades before Trelawny deadClose-gathered to his Shelley in the sod.
I know a garden near the gates of RomeWhere Life and Death hold hands in silence; hereIn solemn shade where towering cypress rearTheir green eternal, white as wind-led foamLie scattered stones that shield the final homeOf exiles. Fair their bed; by violets dearAnd swaying roses decked; above them, clearIn bluest glory arches Heaven's dome.'Twas here my heart encountered peace one dayBeside an old man's grave that said: If GodCondemn you live beyond your friend, this wayYou too may rest.—The heart is childish; dreadOf earth-loss fades before Trelawny deadClose-gathered to his Shelley in the sod.
As, in a house where solemn-footed DeathHas trodden, all the little children standBefore a silent door, with quickened breath,Holding each other tightly by the hand—So we, O Mother! at the keyless doorStand gathered, heart-astir with nameless fears:A strength has left the hour; the world beforeWas warmer; and we face the day with tears.
As, in a house where solemn-footed DeathHas trodden, all the little children standBefore a silent door, with quickened breath,Holding each other tightly by the hand—
So we, O Mother! at the keyless doorStand gathered, heart-astir with nameless fears:A strength has left the hour; the world beforeWas warmer; and we face the day with tears.
O whirling World! I know a corner stillUnsoiled by Hate and Strife:Where hushed and gentle is the voice of Life:Where Time—a summer rillSoft-flowing through the grass—in measure slowSings sweetly as we go.Here is a room wherein the white day gleams:Silence o'er Peace has spread her pearly wings:A smiling woman reads of simple things:A child's blue eyes are blinded by their dreams....
O whirling World! I know a corner stillUnsoiled by Hate and Strife:Where hushed and gentle is the voice of Life:Where Time—a summer rillSoft-flowing through the grass—in measure slowSings sweetly as we go.Here is a room wherein the white day gleams:Silence o'er Peace has spread her pearly wings:A smiling woman reads of simple things:A child's blue eyes are blinded by their dreams....
Thine is the face our driven souls shall wear,O sweet serenity!—No earthly windCan rend thine azure mantle now, nor tearThose veils that shield the radiant locks they bind.Thy brow is calm with storm appeased; thy lidsAre heavy with the wisdom of all tears:Thy mouth is strong with silence that forbidsWeary lament and craven wail of fears.Within thy guarded bosom now no fireIs ardent; thou hast hidden all thy scars:We too may tread the ashes of desire,And wing our spirits thus to touch the stars.
Thine is the face our driven souls shall wear,O sweet serenity!—No earthly windCan rend thine azure mantle now, nor tearThose veils that shield the radiant locks they bind.
Thy brow is calm with storm appeased; thy lidsAre heavy with the wisdom of all tears:Thy mouth is strong with silence that forbidsWeary lament and craven wail of fears.
Within thy guarded bosom now no fireIs ardent; thou hast hidden all thy scars:We too may tread the ashes of desire,And wing our spirits thus to touch the stars.
I will not close the door, O Love, on thee,Although I fear thee still. In days of oldThy magic echoes lured me on to beThe slave of dreams; but now that I beholdThe earth again, and that my wings are gone,I will take refuge, simply, on thy breast.No miracle I seek, no rapturous dawnOf an unearthly day; I will but restMy weary eyes, and lay between thy handsThese empty fingers that have ceased to clutchAt stars. Because my spirit understandsRenouncement, thou wilt give, maybe. Not muchI ask of thee: I only ask to keepThee near, O Love! until my heart's asleep.
I will not close the door, O Love, on thee,Although I fear thee still. In days of oldThy magic echoes lured me on to beThe slave of dreams; but now that I beholdThe earth again, and that my wings are gone,I will take refuge, simply, on thy breast.No miracle I seek, no rapturous dawnOf an unearthly day; I will but restMy weary eyes, and lay between thy handsThese empty fingers that have ceased to clutchAt stars. Because my spirit understandsRenouncement, thou wilt give, maybe. Not muchI ask of thee: I only ask to keepThee near, O Love! until my heart's asleep.
My Friend of Friends! in you my heart's at rest,That wandered homeless as the ocean-windHither and thither, seeking still to findSome refuge. As a ship that east and westRoams havenless, and quits each shore distressed,So wandered I, so left each land behind,Bearing my soul as helmsman, sage but blind;And still we journeyed on at Fate's behest.But now I hold my harbour, and the shipCasts anchor here. The unnested winds that blowMay reach me still and rock me to and fro.What matter? Here is Peace that bids me slipCloser and closer to the enfolding shore,Lower the sails, and stay for evermore.
My Friend of Friends! in you my heart's at rest,That wandered homeless as the ocean-windHither and thither, seeking still to findSome refuge. As a ship that east and westRoams havenless, and quits each shore distressed,So wandered I, so left each land behind,Bearing my soul as helmsman, sage but blind;And still we journeyed on at Fate's behest.But now I hold my harbour, and the shipCasts anchor here. The unnested winds that blowMay reach me still and rock me to and fro.What matter? Here is Peace that bids me slipCloser and closer to the enfolding shore,Lower the sails, and stay for evermore.
Are we not happy? though this bond of oursBe strange and out of harmony with lifeAs men accept it, in this world of strifeBetween the spirit and the flesh?—Dark hoursAre in the doom of every love; no flowersBloom rainless; wind and war and pain are rifeWithin us all.—Yet we are happy. WifeOr sister, these are earth-words; the soul showersIts gifts of love and seeks no earthly bond.So ask we none but, smiling, soul to soulStand gathered in Love's very essence, wholeAnd indivisible. These white strong bandsSuffice; 'tis but the shell, too frail and fond,That weeps, alas! and wrings her mortal hands.
Are we not happy? though this bond of oursBe strange and out of harmony with lifeAs men accept it, in this world of strifeBetween the spirit and the flesh?—Dark hoursAre in the doom of every love; no flowersBloom rainless; wind and war and pain are rifeWithin us all.—Yet we are happy. WifeOr sister, these are earth-words; the soul showersIts gifts of love and seeks no earthly bond.So ask we none but, smiling, soul to soulStand gathered in Love's very essence, wholeAnd indivisible. These white strong bandsSuffice; 'tis but the shell, too frail and fond,That weeps, alas! and wrings her mortal hands.
Farewell! you cannot go from me, my dear,For I have closed you in my inmost heart,Beyond the reach of earthly things that partThe loving from the loved. Now far or nearCeases to be; I am where you are; hereOr there, no matter. Mild should be the smartOf leave-taking, where nothing stays apartBut what is mortal, and where souls are clear.Beloved! I can but lose you earthly-wise;The hunger of the years is stilled; no painOf solitude can chill my heart again,Possessing you. Therefore with steadfast eyesI say farewell, O brother! nor dare weepMy little loss, with all this wealth to keep.
Farewell! you cannot go from me, my dear,For I have closed you in my inmost heart,Beyond the reach of earthly things that partThe loving from the loved. Now far or nearCeases to be; I am where you are; hereOr there, no matter. Mild should be the smartOf leave-taking, where nothing stays apartBut what is mortal, and where souls are clear.Beloved! I can but lose you earthly-wise;The hunger of the years is stilled; no painOf solitude can chill my heart again,Possessing you. Therefore with steadfast eyesI say farewell, O brother! nor dare weepMy little loss, with all this wealth to keep.
I seek to call you near me in the darkAnd silent prison of my solitude,Where Memory with visions heaven-huedNow mocks the night, and Hope with timid sparkKindles vain torches. Lonely in my arkOf Faith, on battling waves I float, pursuedBy all those doubting monsters that deludePain-sunken breasts, and bid the soul embarkFor perilous despair. I call you nearThat I may cheat the helmsman of his fear:And yet I know you far, I know you lostTo me, on this same ocean tempest-tossedAlone—O you who should my pilot be!You, whom my love could steer through any sea....
I seek to call you near me in the darkAnd silent prison of my solitude,Where Memory with visions heaven-huedNow mocks the night, and Hope with timid sparkKindles vain torches. Lonely in my arkOf Faith, on battling waves I float, pursuedBy all those doubting monsters that deludePain-sunken breasts, and bid the soul embarkFor perilous despair. I call you nearThat I may cheat the helmsman of his fear:And yet I know you far, I know you lostTo me, on this same ocean tempest-tossedAlone—O you who should my pilot be!You, whom my love could steer through any sea....
When Spring awakens and no Spring is there,None for the heart, it is a joyless thing.Yet Winter softens, and all breezes bringTo the hard earth now tidings vague and fair.The lilac buds are swelling, the mild airTempts forth the green; at dusk the thrushes singOut in the garden, and their raptures wringThe heart whose joy is of the past. I bearRemembrance in me of dear foliage gone,Of wilted heather and of perished flowers.For me not one of Spring's foreshadowed hoursIs quick with presages of joy. AloneWho cares to creep? The solitary waysAre primrose-less, and vain the violet days.
When Spring awakens and no Spring is there,None for the heart, it is a joyless thing.Yet Winter softens, and all breezes bringTo the hard earth now tidings vague and fair.The lilac buds are swelling, the mild airTempts forth the green; at dusk the thrushes singOut in the garden, and their raptures wringThe heart whose joy is of the past. I bearRemembrance in me of dear foliage gone,Of wilted heather and of perished flowers.For me not one of Spring's foreshadowed hoursIs quick with presages of joy. AloneWho cares to creep? The solitary waysAre primrose-less, and vain the violet days.
If I must live without you, I must learnTo love the earth and all that grows once more,With the old good love that satisfied beforeI saw you smile. Now, let me turn and turn,Your memory covers earth and sky; I yearnFor you, and not for Spring; my heart is soreWith absence, not with Winter's length. Of yore,When climbing noons began to softly burn,There seemed a tender joy in every budThat swelled and burst, in every little spearThat broke the clods; and Spring sang in my bloodAs in the sap; and all that lived was dear.These treasures now are veiled and strange and far,Whilst I go wandering where your footprints are.
If I must live without you, I must learnTo love the earth and all that grows once more,With the old good love that satisfied beforeI saw you smile. Now, let me turn and turn,Your memory covers earth and sky; I yearnFor you, and not for Spring; my heart is soreWith absence, not with Winter's length. Of yore,When climbing noons began to softly burn,There seemed a tender joy in every budThat swelled and burst, in every little spearThat broke the clods; and Spring sang in my bloodAs in the sap; and all that lived was dear.These treasures now are veiled and strange and far,Whilst I go wandering where your footprints are.