Beneath the shadow of dawn's aërial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, past the shades where blind men grope Round the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope, And makes for joy the very darkness dear That gives her wide wings play; nor dreams that fear At noon may rise and pierce the heart of hope. Then, when the soul leaves off to dream and yearn, May truth first purge her eyesight to discern What once being known leaves time no power to appal; II Till youth at last, ere yet youth be not, learn The kind wise word that falls from years that fall "Hope thou not much, and fear thou not at all." Under yonder beech-tree single on the greensward, Couch'd with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly, Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her, Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow, Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me: Then would she hold me and never let me go? Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, Swift as the swallow along the river's light Circleting the surface to meet his mirror'd winglets, Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pinetops, Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, 8 Here's where the lads of the village cricket: Like an old world those days appear! Donkey, sheep, geese and thatched ale-house - I know them! They are old friends of my halts, and seem, Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them: 31 Juggling don't hinder the heart's esteem. Juggling's no sin, for we must have victual: Nature allows us to bait for the fool. Holding one's own makes us juggle no little; But, to increase it, hard juggling's the rule. You that are sneering at my profession, Haven't you juggled a vast amount? 38 There's the Prime Minister, in one Session, Juggles more games than my sins'll count. |