NOT THOU BUT I

T must have been for one of us, my own,

IT

To drink this cup and eat this bitter bread.
Had not my tears upon thy face been shed,
Thy tears had dropped on mine; if I alone
Did not walk now, thy spirit would have known
My loneliness; and did my feet not tread

This weary path and steep, thy feet had bled

For mine, and thy mouth had for mine made moan;

And so it comforts me, yea, not in vain,

To think of thine eternity of sleep;

To know thine eyes are tearless though mine weep:
And when this cup's last bitterness I drain,
One thought shall still its primal sweetness keep,—
Thou hadst the peace and I the undying pain.

A DREAM

H'

ERE—where last night she came,—even she for whom

I would so gladly live, or lie down dead,—

Came in the likeness of a Dream, and said

Such words as thrilled this desolate, ghost-thronged room,

I sit alone now, in the absolute gloom.

Ah, surely on her breast was leaned my head!

Ah, surely on my mouth her kiss was shed,
And all my life broke into scent and bloom.

Give thanks, heart, for thy rootless flower of bliss;
Nor think the gods severe, though thus they seem-
Though thou hast much to bear and much to miss—
Whilst thou, through nights and days to be, canst deem
One thing, and that thing veritably this,
Imperishable, the memory of a Dream.

SORROW

CHILD, with mystic eyes and flowing hair,

AI saw her her
А I saw her first, 'mid flowers that shared her grace;

Though but a boy, I cried, "How fair a face!"
And, coming nearer, told her she was fair.

She faintly smiled, yet did not say "Forbear!"
But seemed to take a pleasure in my praise.

She led my steps through many a leafy place,
And pointed where shy birds and sweet flowers were.

At length we stood upon a brooklet's brink,

I seem to hear its sources babbling yet,—

She

gave me water from her hand to drink,

The while her eyes upon its flow were set.

"Thy name?" I asked; she whispered low, "Regret," Then faded, as the sun began to sink.

BESIDE THE DEAD

AD seems the room, and strangely still, where lies

SA

Some form now motionless, in which of late

Glad life exulted. Mark the changed estate,

The helpless hands, clasped in such peaceful wise,
The speechless lips, and unbeholding eyes
Which might not look into the eyes of Fate;
And as about the bed you watching wait,
What pleading pity to your spirit cries!

But, surely, yet a sadder thing is this

To look upon Love's face, where Love lies dead,
While all his memories of pain and bliss,

Thorn-crowned and rose-crowned, watch beside the bed.

Sped souls may live again, no man can tell;

But dead Love shall not break Death's awful spell.

I

TOUCHED the heart that loved me as a player

Touches a lyre; content with my poor skill

No touch save mine knew my beloved (and still I thought at times: Is there no sweet lost air Old loves could wake in him, I cannot share?); Oh, he alone, alone could so fulfil

My thoughts in sound to the measure of my will.
He is gone, and silence takes me unaware.

The songs I knew not he resumes, set free
From my constraining love, alas for me!
His part in our tune goes with him; my part
Is locked in me for ever; I stand as mute
As one with rising music in his heart
Whose fingers stray upon a shattered lute.