Part 2
"Where is she?" sighed the rose-trees, The honeysuckle creepers, The pansies, and the lilies, And the little hidden flowers. "We are lonely here without her, In the sunlight, in the twilight, In the daytime, in the night-time, Through the solitary hours."
"I know not," said the young wind, "Yet will I surely seek her, And whisper low your message Oh faithful-hearted few. For men may kiss in passing, And the world forget its passion, But the soil, remembers ever, And the love of flowers is true."
THE FOND LOVER
I am but little in your sight, A passing thought, a fleeting light That gone, forgotten lies. The humble pastime, that you chose To honour, as you might a rose, O'er which you cast your eyes.
Were I some simple, lifeless thing, A book you read, an oft-worn ring, A favourite flower you wear, I might be close to you and know The rapture and the living glow Of lips, and breast, and hair.
But as it is, the earth you press, The clinging texture of your dress, The jewel on your hand Know more of Heaven and joys therein Than I, whose soul has never been Where it could understand.
ROSES FALL
One by one the roses' petals fall to earth; Though God's sun is still above them, And the ardent breezes love them They must die. Ere their greatest joy is born, Lo! they wither and are gone; Like a rose my hope must perish In a sigh.
A FRAGMENT
If you were just one street away, One only! I know that in my heart I'd say I'm lonely.
But with the world between us two A-lying, I hear my soul cry out, "For you I'm dying!"
DISSATISFACTION
Our love is near akin unto regret; We love, and are beloved again, and yet There oft is something that we lack. So Life is very near akin to Death, We live and laugh awhile, yet with each breath Something is passing, that will ne'er come back.
ONE EVENING
The damp, sweet smell of the earth after rain, A golden rift in the sky, The deepening twilight, the purple plain, And you and I.
The strange, still hush of the slumbering world, The mist in the wood close by, A deer that nibbles a leaf dew-pearled, And you and I.
The falling rain has left tremulous lakes Where the shattered branches lie; The storm has bowed the tree till it breaks, And you and I!
Yet the green earth smiles through the tears she wept; With one long, rapturous sigh The Noon in the arms of Night has crept, And you and I?
TO ——
I thought that I might see you, sweet, That after all this weary year By some good fortune we might meet, And kiss each other here.
I told my heart to bide awhile, And not to faint with vain regret; I even forced my lips to smile, My conscience to forget.
I killed depression as it rose, And built new castles on the sand; This was the place my fancy chose That I should hold your hand.
And I have held your hand, my dear, A second, daring not to press Your finger-tips, in mortal fear To meet your eyes; and yet I bless That little moment none the less.
MY SOUL, THE DEATHLESS
Hush! my soul is singing; Through the still night ringing Sounds its voice. Till the dark in wonder Seemeth cleft asunder, And the stars rejoice.
E'en the air is breathless, For my soul, the deathless, Sings of thee. Beats its wings of fire, In the vast desire For eternity.
Lifts its eyes of splendour Full of deep surrender For thy sake. Bids me let it press thee In its arms, and bless thee Till thy love awake.
WHAT AM I?
What am I to presume to say Were you good or bad, Was I wrong or right? After all life's only a day And perhaps—a night.
What am I to set up for Judge? Shall I wound myself With a vain regret? Our fleeting pleasure if Time begrudge Can he not forget?
The thrill of it all is past we know, Say we both were right, And we both were wrong, There's little enough joy here below, And love's none too long.
WHAT A PITY!
What a pity that all our wishes, And most of our prayers are vain; When we strive to recall a pleasure, Or crave to forget a pain.
When the motives we deemed sufficient, Seem paltry, and mean, and weak; And the goal we'd have lost our soul for, Is that which we least would seek.
And the pride of those vast ambitions, That rendered our hopes so great Has become but the coal-black cinders, Consumed in the fire of fate.
What a pity! that blind with folly, We fancied all incomplete Every flower of the true contentment, That grew by our careless feet;
Nor did pause in our path, to gather The fruits of a gracious Spring; Or to seek in our hearts the anthem We called on the world to sing.
Ah, well! maybe God will remember, As payment of many debts, The penance of sad non-attainments, The sackcloth of vain regrets.
And perhaps the Recording Angel May wipe out the faults of years With the hem of His shining garment, Grown damp with a sinner's tears.
SONG
Good-morning, sweet! a thousand little birds Their requiem to you sing; And tender flowers, with soft, perfuming words Their greetings bring.
Good-morning, sweet! this faithful heart of mine Offers devotion vast as Heaven above, Beneath thy window, worships at thy shrine; Good-morning, love.
Good-morning, sweet! the glory of the day Is naught compared to thee; Come forth and smile, with rapture bright and gay, That I may see.
Good-morning, sweet! look up that I may live, Kiss me that I may taste of Heaven here, The joys of Paradise are thine to give, Good-morning, dear!
TIREDNESS
It is weary, weary this waiting, For that which can never be. It is dreary, dreary this mating, With tears and despondency.
And methinks if beneath the grasses, There was somewhere, both still and deep, I would close my eyes to the morning, And thankfully fall asleep.
ON THE LAGOON
A gondola, the still lagoon; A Summer's night, an August moon; The splash of oars, a distant song, A little sigh, and—was it wrong? A kiss, both passionate and long.
A MORNING ON COMO
A symphony in pink and blue, A rhapsody of sun and dew, A virgin Venus born anew, Lay Como in the morning.
And—"Would to Heaven some Muse divine Could guide this erring pen of mine," I cried, "to paint such grace as thine, Sweet Como in the morning!"
IN ROME
Daybreak. The heavy rumble in the street Of waggons, journeyed from the sun-baked plains; A laugh, an oath, as chance acquaintance meet; The bark of dogs, the crack of whip and reins; And then, with booming of combined refrains, The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Sunset, and purple shadows o'er the dome Of sky above St Peter's; and the square As silent as a graveyard, and as dumb. Within the church, a peasant deep in prayer; And like a challenge through the languid air The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
TO ——
The day is warm and mellow, The fields are gold and yellow, And in the misty distance The hills are purple blue.
The Spring is up and stirring, The pheasant's wing is whirring, And there is nothing lacking In all the world, but you.
HOPES
Our hopes are like the mountains that arise, And to our dim, imperfect, human eyes Seem in their splendid height to touch the skies.
Yet when we've toiled up, many a weary day, We find the summit, desolate and grey, And lo! the Heavens, still smiling, far away.
A MEMORY
Ah, dear! how memory stirs, Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushes Of winds that sang amid firs, Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.
Of twilights and early dawns, And times when the earth is fairest; Of gardens with dewy lawns, And flowers when their scent is rarest.
Of noontide and humming bees, That gather the love of roses; Of night-time and sighing trees, And clouds where the moon reposes.
And, dearest,—of just we two, Alone in this world of splendour, Where everything lived for you, In glorious, sweet surrender.
THE RIVER
Oh, river! sweet river, how placidly you wander, Yet bearing on your bosom so many lovers' vows; Cannot the throb of passion arouse one wave in answer, Or stir to sighing cadence your silent willow boughs?
Must always—for ever, your brow be smooth and tranquil, Though hearts may break in anguish, or burn with ecstasy? Is there no secret message that may arouse your wonder At all this vast emotion that thrills Eternity?
Some day though, oh, river! you too shall feel the magic Of all your depths awakened, of every tide set free; Remember us in that time, we loving ones who sought you, When you have left the meadows for the embracing sea!
TO ——
Let not the morning break ere I shall say "Thou art the Sun that brightens all the day, Thou art the Rose that perfumes all the air, Thou art the Soul of all that is most fair."
Let not the evening fall ere I shall say "Thou art the Star that guides me on my way, Thou art the Moon whose beams are everywhere, Thou art my rest, my blessing, and my prayer."
SHALL I COMPLAIN?
Shall I complain because the rain Has spoiled the flowers? Shall I despair because the air Is damp with showers?
Shall I forget, that even yet New buds will spring? And shall I sigh while still there's by One bird to sing?
TO ——
But, let me tell you all I feel, And then, if you must still deny No tears shall dim my sight, no sigh Shall pass my lips, I'll only kneel Before you in the dust and say, "Tread on me, as you go your way."
MISTRESS SPRING
(_Song_)
Sweet Mistress Spring, all decked in green, How fresh you look this morning; 'Tis sure a year since we have seen Such flowers your brow adorning.
And will you come and walk with me? I'll prove an ardent lover, Beneath the boughs of some kind tree We'll seek convenient cover.
There will I praise with light refrain Your most enchanting weather, While you shall make a daisy chain, To bind our hearts together.
WHAT'S WRONG?
There's something wrong with the world to-day, What can it be, what can it be? The morn is at six, and the year's at May, So mayhap that something is wrong with me. But there's something wrong, With the joyous song Of the thrush in the apple-tree.
There's something gone from my heart I trow! That then is why, that then is why The flower seems dead on the orchard bough, And never a sunbeam is in the sky. There's something gone, And the light of the dawn Is the dimmer when you're not by.
GENTLE DAME PRISCILLA
(_Song_)
Gentle Dame Priscilla At her wheel is singing, Singing of her lover, very far away. Would I were that lover, From my hiding springing I would stop her singing in my own fond way.
Gentle Dame Priscilla At her wheel is spinning Fancies of her lover, who has gone to sea. Would I were that lover, Honey-tongued and winning, It were then no sinning though I kissed her free.
TO THE NIGHTINGALE
Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard you Sobbing your passion into a song? Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour, Deigned to pity your life's surrender, Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender, You who have waited and loved so long?
Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous music Cleaving the depths of the dark apart, Born of a hope that is wearily dying? Is she ever and aye denying That for which you are always sighing? Do you sing with a broken heart?
A MORNING THOUGHT
Wind and mist of the upland places, Thrill and hush of the cloud-swept spaces, Glow of sky that the sun embraces, Over a world of dew.
Purple-dusk of the sweet Scotch heather, Golden gorse, in the summer weather, Hand in hand, you and I together, If it were only true!
TO-DAY
To-day is a bumper of golden wine, Drink deep, deep, deep! While the earth is green, and the cup is thine, For there cometh an hour when a man must weep, And there cometh a time when a man must sleep, So drink deep, deep, deep.
LOVE'S COMMAND
Love lifted up his eyes to mine, And in their depth did I behold A flame, so potent yet divine That all the world besides seemed cold.
"Dear love," I cried, "come enter in And warm my heart with living fire." Love answered, "First cast out the sin And rid my dwelling of desire."
CHANCE MEETING
I looked up! you were standing there close beside me, And just for a second our glances met, And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet.
I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken. My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold. I was longing, hopeless, and almost old.
ITALIAN SPRING
It is the Spring! And what could be So sweet a thing As early Spring In Italy?
To make the boon more wondrous rare You've caught the sunlight in your hair, And, happy slave, it dances there.
To steal the splendour from the skies, You draw their colour to your eyes, Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.
It is the Spring! And what could be So sweet a thing As early Spring In Italy, And you with me!
TO ——
Oh! the awful pity of it all, That I ever learned to care for you, That we ever chanced to meet at all, Since we neither of us could be true.
THE DIRGE OF A LONELY GARDEN
"I am a garden, alone, alone! Oh little Swallow pity me. Over my paths have the lichens grown, Oh little Swallow pity me. Down by the river the reeds are dank, Close to the portal the grass is rank; Nettles take birth on the lily bank. Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Once in the earliest days She came, Oh little Swallow pity me, Sowing the seeds of my after fame, Oh little Swallow pity me. Beautiful hands she had, and lo! All that they touched would thrill and grow Up to the sun of her eyes, aglow, Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Beautiful feet she had, that fell Oh little Swallow pity me, Like the caress of one loved well, Oh little Swallow pity me. Over the lawn at the twilight hour Sometimes she wandered to pluck a flower, Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower. Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Then she would speak to me, sweet my own! Oh little Swallow pity me, Words from her heart to my heart alone, Oh little Swallow pity me. Tender, and ardent, and secret things, Sprang to her lips, as the water springs Up from the earth where the blue mist clings. Oh little Swallow pity me.
"I am a garden grown desolate, Oh little Swallow pity me. I of them all, will remember yet, Oh little Swallow pity me. Summer may come and summer may go, I of them all who have known her, know Love cannot die, though the loved one go. Oh little Swallow pity me!"
RESIGNATION
I asked you for your love again, And I presumed too much it seemed. The happiness of which I dreamed Was but a jest, to laugh at then? A trifle, that your wanton eyes Beheld, yet would not recognise.
"I will be just your friend," I said, "'Twere better thus to be content Than everlasting banishment." You scarcely paused to turn your head. Not needed, I had ceased to be A thing for your utility!
I went my way, as others do. These are not days to rant, and weep. What pain there was I buried deep, Together with my thoughts of you; And in that grave they lie apart, Unmourned, save by a breaking heart.
ACCUSATION
How dare you cease to be my friend! You who have held my heart and mind Within your hand, a spell combined Of passion and the joys that rend Cast over all that once was me, I would not if I could, go free. I tell you to the depth of Hell, My spirit, following in your wake, Shall suffer for its folly's sake Those torments which are yours, and dwell Beside you through Eternity.
A SEA CYCLE
I
In at your cabin window, Under the drifting sky, Softly, and all on tiptoe Winds that are passing by Steal with a tender longing, Pause, with a yearning sigh, Kiss you—and then in rapture Folding their pinions die.
II
There is something divinely happy, And something divinely fair, At work in the world this morning, Its spirit is everywhere.
I'm filled with a sense of youngness, My limbs are alive and strong, My heart with a throb of gladness Re-echoes the Ocean's song.
The sun is a splendid halo, That sets on the brow of earth, The wind is the flute of silver He tunes to his strains of mirth.
The waves are abrim with laughter, The ship is a soul set free; And out through this perfect weather You'll presently come to me.
III
I pledged you in a cup of wine, And every passion that was mine I melted in that nectar rare, To drink to you, I swear—I swear!
I pledged you in the cup of life, Its inmost essence, hot and rife, I caught from drops my heart bled there, To drink to you, I swear—I swear!
IV
Listen, dear heart, awhile, till I repeat In all my life, there never was so sweet An hour as this; so perfectly complete, So full of joy, so deep and so replete With ardent things. Alas! that time is fleet.
V
Good-night! until to-morrow, dear; You go to rest, and I still here Will dream of all you do and say; Will contemplate, as lovers may, Each thing you've touched, with eyes that find Your form in all you leave behind.
Your presence, and the joy that fills The heart and soul with countless thrills Is still beside me, and the ship Throbs out with every rise and dip The words that uttered once shall be My music through eternity.
VI
Let me forget the land, The turmoil and the strife Of cities; let me stand Alone with you and life.
Encircled by the sky, Uplifted by the sea, The world is you, and I, Then give yourself to me!
VII
Don't speak! a word would mar it all, Just put your hand in mine. This silence seems of Heaven, to fall From thence, a thing Divine.
Be still! to move would seem profane, So magic is the night, All hushed, yet throbbing with a vein Of passionate delight.
Look up! and let your gaze enfold My face that bends above, And in my ardent eyes behold The ecstasy of love.
VIII
I take my heart with trembling hands, Unworthy vassal though it be, Sad wanderer in many lands, Such as it is I offer thee, And will not even dare complain Shouldst thou this sorry gift disdain.
Yet oh! be sure that every sigh, Each beat of anguish deep and sore, Has grown a dagger thrust, which I Must bear for all that's gone before; And bearing it will learn to know The cleansing agony of woe.
And this remember, ere you turn Your head away in silent pride, The soul is young that still can learn New truths that Love has simplified; And being young may still attain Perfection, through repentant pain.
Then stoop to pity; do not close The gate of Paradise and rest, To one whose spirit seeks repose Within that haven of the blest; But rather fling the portal wide And draw the pilgrim safe inside.
IX
The past is like an empty dream; The people in it are not real; The joys and sorrows only seem As phantom hands I cannot feel.
I will not even count the hours, That lie between those yesterdays And what my present life embowers, Of love and all its golden ways.
All that I am, my soul, my mind, And all I ever hope to be I fling, with scarce a look behind Into this present ecstasy.
I have not even one regret To waste upon those lagging years, Too colourless to feign forget, Too soulless for repentant tears.
No sigh, though life should end for me To-day; so potent is the bliss Of love, I think eternity Is held embodied in a kiss.
X
If every rose that ever blew, All fragrant with the breath of Spring, Were here, aglow with sun and dew, With ardent petals shimmering— What would their beauty count to me, Have I not lived to look on thee?
If every note of music born, Each wistful cadence low and sweet, Were all combined from night till dawn To render melody complete— Why should my throbbing sense rejoice That once has listened to thy voice?
Nor do I think that Paradise Could dim with raptured awe my gaze, Unfolding to my dazzled eyes— The marvel of untrodden ways; For know I not of Heaven a part Since I have found thy living heart?
XI
Oh, my beloved! though I live A thousand years upon the earth, And though each pleasure take its birth From me; though it be mine to give all Rapture, every thrill and joy Known unto gods; though I destroy All ills, and overcome e'en death Within the vapour of a breath, That from thy lips passed into mine, Fire-tipped, of earth, yet all divine Would be contained more ecstasy, To chain the soul eternally With fetters woven of thy kiss— Than in Mahomet's realms of bliss— Nay more—of Heaven I ask but this.
XII
Over the silent waters Flashes the beacon light, Sharp as a strong, white dagger Cleaving the breast of Night.
Beacon of hope and safety! See, we are near the land, Come and stand close beside me, Give me your dear, white hand.
Here in the wind and darkness, Under the sighing mast, Let us forget the future Let us condone the past.
God in His high, blue Heaven, Counting the falling tears, Grants us this fleeting present, Out of the endless years.
XIII
The land! The land! it is the end Of all my dreams; the sudden bend Along the road, and face to face I stand with some deserted place, Where Death, and Darkness grow apace.
The land! The land! with beating heart I am awake, alone, apart; To gaze upon the nearing shore, And know that all that's gone before Means nothing to you any more.
The land! The land! Oh, blessed sea! Lift up your arms and cover me; One long caress upon your breast! You know me, I have stood confessed Before you, now I fain would rest.
XIV
Oh, Time! There's much I could forgive; E'en though you told me that to live Another hour it was denied, I think I'd lay my life aside With few regrets, and scarce a sigh, It would not be so hard to die.
But like a thief steals in the night, You robbed me; what was mine by right Your ruthless hands have snatched away; The passions that were yesterday You've cankered with your deadly rust, And turned a living heart to dust.
XV