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Why should it look like Maud ?
Ever and ever afresh they seem'd to grow.
6. Back from the Breton coast, Sick of a nameless fear, Back to the dark sea-line Looking, thinking of all I have lost: An old song vexes my ear; But that of Lamech is mine.
2. Is it gone? my pulses beatWhat was it? a lying trick of the brain ? Yet I thought I saw her stand, A shadow there at my feet, High over the shadowy land. It is gone; and the heavens fall in a gentle rain, When they should burst and drown with deluging
storms The feeble vassals of wine and anger and lust, The little hearts that know not how to forgive: Arise, my God, and strike, for we hold Thee just, Strike dead the whole weak race of venomous worms, That sting each other here in the dust; We are not worthy to live.
7. For years, a measureless ill, For years, forever, to part, But she, she would love me still, And as long, O God, as she Have a grain of love for me, So long, no doubt, no doubt, Shall I nurse in my dark heart, However weary, a spark of will Not to be trampled out.
1. SEE what a lovely shell, Small and pure as a pearl, Lying close to my foot, Frail, but a work divine, Made so fairily well With delicate spire and whorl, How exquisitely minute, A miracle of design!
Strange, that the mind, when fraugnt
What is it? a learned man
The tiny cell is forlorn,
Who knows if he be dead?
Slight, to be crush'd with a tap
Xxv. COURAGE, poor heart of stone! I will not ask thee why Thou canst not understand That thou art left forever alone : Courage, poor stupid heart of stone. Or if I ask thee why, Care not thou to reply: She is but dead, and the time is at hand When thou shalt more than die.
5. Breton, not Briton; here Like a shipwreck'd man on a coast of ancient fable and fear,Plagned with a flitting to and fro, A disease, a hard mechanic ghost That never came from on high Nor ever arose from below, But only moves with the moving eye, Flying along the land and the main,
O That 't were possible
2. When I was wont to meet her In the silent woody places
T is a morning pare and sweet,
But the broad light glares and beats,
Do I hear her sing as of old,
DEAD), long dead,
Get thee hence, nor come again,
9. Then I rise, the eavedrops fall, And the yellow vapors choke The great city sounding wido; The day comes, a dull red ball Wrapt in drifts of lurid smoke On the misty river-tide.
Wretchedest age, since Time began,
10. See, there is one of us sobbing,
Friend, to be struck by the public foe, No limit to his distress;
Then to strike him and lay him low, And another, a lord of all things, praying
That were a public merit, far, To his own great self, as I guess;
Whatever the Quaker holds, from sin: And another, a statesman there, betraying
But the red life spilt for a private blowHis party-secret, fool, to the press ;
I swear to you, lawful and lawless war
Are scarcely even akin.
11. And wheedle a world that loves him not,
O me, why have they not buried me deep enough? For it is but a world of the dead.
Is it kind to have made me a grave so rough,
Me, that was never a quiet sleeper? 4.
Maybe still I am but half-dead; Nothing but idiot gabble !
Then I cannot be wholly dumb ; For the prophecy given of old
I will cry to the steps above my head, And then not understood,
And somebody, surely, some kind heart will come Has come to pass as foretold ;
To bury me, bury me
Deeper, ever so little deeper.
1. No, not to myself in the closet alone, But I heard it shouted at once from the top of the My life has crept so long on a broken wing house;
Thro' cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, Everything came to be known:
That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing: Who told him we were there?
My mood is changed, for it fell at a time of year
When the face of night is fair on the dewy downs, 5.
And the shining daffodil dies, and the Charioteer Not that gray old wolf, for he came not back
And starry Gemini haog like glorious crowns From the wilderness, full of wolves, where he used Over Orion's grave low down in the west, to lie :
That like a silent lightning under the stars He has gather'd the bones for his o'ergrown whulp She seem'd to divide in a dream from a band of the to crack;
blest, Crack them now for yourself, and howl, and die.
And spoke of a hope for the world in *he coming
“And in that hope, dear soul, let trouble have rest, 6.
Knowing I tarry for thee," and pointed to Mars Prophet, curse me the blabbing lip,
As he glow'd like a ruddy shield on the Lion's And curse me the British vermin, the rat :
breast. I know not whether he came in the Hanover ship,
2. But I know that he lies and listens mute in an ancient mansion's crannies and holes: And it was but a dream, yet it yielded a dear deArsenic, arsenic, sure, would do it,
light Except that now we poison our babes, poor souls ! To have look'd, tho’ but in a dream, upon eyes so It is all used up for that.
That had been in a weary world my one thing bright; 7.
And it was but a dream, yet it lighten'd my despair Tell him now: she is standing here at my head; When I thought that a war would arise in defence Not beautiful now, not even kind;
of the right, He may take her now; for she never speaks her That an iron tyranny now should bend or cease, mind,
The glory of manhood stand on his ancient height, But is ever the one thing silent here.
Nor Britain's one sole God be the millionnaire: She is not of us, as I divine ;
No more shall commerce be all in all, and Peace She comes from another stiller world of the dead, Pipe on her pastoral hillock a languid note, Stiller, not fairer than mine.
And watch her harvest ripen, her herd increase,
Nor the cannon-bullet rust on a slothsul shore, S.
And the cobweb woven across the cannon's throat
Shall shake its threaded tears in the wind no more. But I know where a garden grows, Fairer than anght in the world beside,
3. All made up of the lily and rose That blow by night, when the season is good, And as months ran on and rumor of battle grew. To the sound of dancing music and flutes:
“It is time, it is time, O passionate heart," said I It is only flowers, they had no fruits,
(For I cleaved to a cause that I felt to be pare and And I almost fear they are not roses, but blood;
true), For the keeper was one, so full of pride,
“It is time, O passionate heart and morbid eye, He linkt a dead man there to a spectral bride ; That old hysterical mock-disease should die." For he, if he had not been a Sultan of brutes, And I stood on a giant deck and mix'd my breath Would he have that hole in his side ?
With a loyal people shouting a battle cry,
Till I saw the dreary phantom arise and fly 9.
Far into the North, and battle, and seas of death i But what will the old man say? He laid a cruel snare in a pit To catch a friend of mine one stormy day;
Let it go or stay, so I wake to the higher aims Yet now I could even weep to think of it;
of a land that has lost for a little her Inst of gold, For what will the old man say
And love of a peace that was full of wrongs and When he comes to the second corpse in the pit ?
Horrible, hateful, monstrous, not to be told;
I chatter over stony ways, And hail once more to the banner of battle unroild !
In little sharps and trebles, Tho' many a light shall darken, and many shall weep
I bubble into eddying bays, For those that are crush'd in the clash of jarring
I babble on the pebbles. claims, Yet God's just wrath shall be wreakd on a giant
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow, And many a darkness into the light shall leap
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river, done,
For men may come and men may go, And now by the side of the Black and the Baltic
But I go on forever. deep, , And deathful-grinning mouths of the fortress, flames "But Philip chatter'd more than brook or bird: The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of fire. Old Philip; all about the fields you caught
His weary daylong chirping, like the dry 5.
High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass. Let it flame or fade, and the war roll down like a wind,
I wind about, and in and out, We have proved we have hearts in a cause, we are
With here a blossom sailing, noble still,
And here and there a lusty tront, And myself have awaked, as it seems, to the better
And here and there a grayling, mind; It is better to fight for the good, than to rail at the And here and there a foamy flake ill;
Upon me, as I travel I have felt with my native land, I am one with my With many a silvery waterbreak kind,
Above the golden gravel, I embrace the purpose of God, and the doom as. sign'd.
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
"O darling Katie Willows, his one child !
A maiden of our century, yet most meek; HERE, by this brook, we parted; I to the East
A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse And he for Italy-too late-too late:
Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand;
Her eyes a bashfui azure, and her hair
In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell
Divides threefold to show the fruit within.
“Sweet Katie, once I did her a good turn, The thing taat is not as the thing that is. O had he lived ! In our school-books we say,
Her and her far-off cousin and betrothed,
James Willows, of one name and heart with her. of those that held their heads above the crowd, They flourish'd then or then ; but life in him
For here I came, twenty years back,-the week
Before I parted with poor Edmund; crost Could scarce be said to flourish, only touch'd
By that old bridge which, half in ruins then, On such a time as goes before the leaf, When all the wood stands in a mist of green,
Still makes a hoary eyebrow for the gleam
Beyond it, where the waters marry-crost,
Whistling a random bar of Bonny Doon,
And push'd at Philip's garden-gate. The gate, I panted, seems, as I re-listen to it,
Half-parted from a weak and scolding hinge,
Stuck; and he clamor'd from a casement, 'run: Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy, To me that loved him ; for "O brook,' be says,
To Katie somewhere in the walks below,
* Run, Katie! Katie never ran : she moved "O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
To meet me, winding under woodbine bowers, • Whence come you ?' and the brook, why not? re
A little flutter'd with her eyelids down, plies.
Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon.
“What was it ? less of sentiment than sense And sparkle ont among the fern,
Had Katie; not illiterate: neither one
Who babbling in the fount of fictive tears,
And nursed by mealy-mouthed philanthropies,
Divorce the Feeling from her mate the Deed.
“She told me. She and James had quarrell'd And half a hundred bridges.
What cause of quarrel ? None, she said, no cause
James had no cause : bnt when I prest the cause,
I learnt that James had flickering jealousies
Which anger'd her. Who anger'd James? I said
But Katie snatch'd her eyes at once from mine, "Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn ont, And sketching with her slender-pointed foot Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge, Some figure like a wizard's pentagram It has more ivy: there the river; and there On garden gravel, let my query pass Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet. Unclaim'd, in flushing silence, till I ask'd
If James were coming. "Coming every day,'
I linger by my shingly hars;
I loiter round my cresses ;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river, How could I help her? Would I was it wrong?'
For men may come and men may go, (Claspt hands and that petitionary grace
But I go on forever. of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke) • would I take her father for one hour,
Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone. For one half-bour, and let him talk to me!"
All gone. My dearest brother, Edmnud, sleeps, And even while she spoke, I saw where James Not by the well-kuown stream aud rustic spire, Made towards us, like a wader in the surf,
But unfamiliar Arno, and the doing Beyond the brook, waist-deep in meadow-sweet.
Of Brunelleschi; sleeps in peace: and he,
Poor Philip, of all bis lavish waste of words "O Katie, what I suffer'd for your sake!
Remains the lean P. W. on his tomb: For in I went and call'd old Philip out
I scraped the lichen from it: Katie walks To show the farm : full willingly he rose:
By the long wash of Australasian seas He led me thru the short sweet-smelling lanes Far off, and holds her head to other stars, or his wheat suburb, babbling as he went.
And breathes in converse seasons. All are gone."
So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a stile
Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook
of tender air made tremble in the hedge Avd naming those, his friends, for whom they were: The fragile bindweed-bells and briony rings: Then crost the common into Darnley chase
And he look'd up. There stood a maiden near, To show Sir Arthur's deer. In copse and fern Waiting to pass. In much amaze he stared Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail.
On eyes a bashsul azure, and on hair Then, seated on a serpent-rooted beech,
In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell He pointed out a pasturing colt, and said:
Divides threefold to show the fruit within : * That was the four-year-old I sold the squire.' Then, wondering, ask'd her, “Are you from the And there be told a long, long-winded tale
farm!" of how the squire had seen the colt at grass,
"Yes," answer'd she. “Pray stay a little: pardou And how it was the thing his danghter wishid,
me; And how he sent the bailiff to the farm
What do they call you ?" "Katie."
"That wer To learn the price, and what the price he ask'd,
strange. Avd how the bailiff swore that he was mad,
What surname ?" “ Willows." “No!" "That is But he stood firm; and so the matter hung;
my name." He gave them line: and tive days after that
" Iudeed !” and here he look'd so self-perplext, He met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece,
That Katie laugh'd, and laughing blush'd, till he Who then and there had offer'd something more,
Langh'd also, but as one before he wakes, But he stood firm; and so the matter hung;
Who feels a glimmering strangeness in his dream. He knew the man; the colt would fetch its price;
Then looking at her; “Too happy, fresh and fair, He gave them live: and how by chance at last Too fresh and fair in our sad world's best bloom, (It might be May or April, he forgot,
To be the ghost of one who bore your name
About these meadows, twenty years ago."
“Hare you not heard !” said Katie, “ we came
back. And there he mellow'd all his heart with ale, Until they closed a bargain, hand in hand.
We bonght the farm we tenanted before.
Am I so like her? so they said on board. "Then, while I breathed in sight of haven, he, Sr, if you knew her in her English days, Poor fellow, could he help it? recommenced, My mother, as it seems you did, the days And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle,
That most she loves to talk of, come with me. Wild Will, Black Bess, Tantivy, Tallyho,
My brother James is in the harvest-field:
But she-you will be welcome-0, come in i"
1. Arrived, and found the son of sweet content
Still on the tower stood the vane, Ho-risen in Katie's eyes, and all things well.
A black yew gloom'd the stagnant air,
I peer'd athwart the chancel pane
And saw the altar cold and bare.
A clog of lead was round my feet,
A band of pain across my brow;
“Cold altar, Heaven and earth shall moct I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Before you hear my marriage vow."
I turn'd and hamm'd a bitter song
That mock'd the wholesome human heart
And then we met in wrath and wrong,
We met, but only meant to part.