POEMS

PUBLISHED IN THE EDITION OF 1833, AND OMITTED IN LATER EDITIONS.

SONNET.

MINE be the strength of spirit fierce and free,
Like some broad river rushing down alone,
With the selfsame impulse wherewith he was
thrown

From his loud fount upon the echoing lea:-
Which with increasing might doth forward flee
By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, and isle,
And in the middle of the green
salt sea

Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile.
Mine be the Power which ever to its sway
Will win the wise at once, and by degrees
May into uncongenial spirits flow;
Even as the great gulf stream of Florida
Floats far away into the Northern seas
The lavish growths of southern Mexico.

ΤΟ

I.

ALL good things have not kept aloof,
Nor wandered into other ways;
I have not lacked thy mild reproof,
Nor golden largess of thy praise,
But life is full of weary days.

II.

Shake hands, my friend, across the brink
Of that deep grave to which I go.

Shake hands once more: I cannot sink
So far far down, but I shall know

-

Thy voice, and answer from below.

III.

When, in the darkness over me,
The four-handed mole shall scrape,
Plant thou no dusky cypress-tree

Nor wreathe thy cap with doleful crape,
But pledge me in the flowing grape.

IV.

And when the sappy field and wood
Grow green beneath the showery gray,
And rugged barks begin to bud,

And through damp holts, new flushed with May, Ring sudden laughters of the Jay;

V.

Then let wise Nature work her will,
And on my clay the darnels grow.
Come only when the days are still,
And at my headstone whisper low,
And tell me if the woodbines blow?

VI.

If thou art blest, my mother's smile
Undimmed, if bees are on the wing:
Then cease, my friend, a little while,
That I may hear the throstle sing
His bridal song, the boast of spring.

VII.

Sweet as the noise in parchéd plains
Of bubbling wells that fret the stones
(If any sense in me remains),

Thy words will be; thy cheerful tones
As welcome to my crumbling bones.

BONAPARTE.

He thought to quell the stubborn hearts of oak, Madman!—to chain with chains, and bind with bands

That island queen that sways the floods and lands From Ind to Ind, but in fair daylight woke,

When from her wooden walls, lit by sure hands, With thunders, and with lightnings, and with smoke,

Peal after peal, the British battle broke,
Lulling the brine against the Coptic sands.
We taught him lowlier moods, when Elsinore
Heard the war moan along the distant sea,
Rocking with shattered spars, with sudden fires
Flamed over at Trafalgar yet once more
We taught him: late he learned humility
Perforce, like those whom Gideon schooled with
briers.

SONNETS.

I.

O BEAUTY, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs?
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.

Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes. Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold

My arms about thee - scarcely dare to speak. And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,

As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control

Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul

To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.

II.

But were I loved, as I desire to be,

What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
And range of evil between death and birth,

That I should fear, — if I were loved by thee?
All the inner, all the outer world of pain
Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert
mine,

As I have heard that, somewhere in the main, Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine. 'T were joy, not fear, clasped hand-in-hand with thee,

To wait for death - mute

- careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, though the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see.

THE HESPERIDES.

"Hesperus and his daughters three,
That sing about the golden tree."

Comus.

THE North-wind fall'n, in the new-starréd night

Zidonian Hanno, voyaging beyond

The hoary promontory of Soloë

Past Thymiaterion, in calméd bays,

Between the southern and the western Horn,
Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,
Nor melody of the Libyan lotus flute

Blown seaward from the shore; but from a slope
That ran bloom-bright into the Atlantic blue,
Beneath a highland leaning down a weight
Of cliffs, and zoned below with cedar shade,
Came voices, like the voices in a dream,
Continuous, till he reached the outer sea.

SONG.

I.

The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit,

Guard it well, guard it warily,
Singing airily,

Standing about the charméd root.
Round about all is mute,

As the snow-field on the mountain-peaks,
As the sand-field at the mountain-foot.
Crocodiles in briny creeks

Sleep and stir not: all is mute.

If ye sing not, if ye make false measure,
We shall lose eternal pleasure,

Worth eternal want of rest.

Laugh not loudly: watch the treasure
Of the wisdom of the West.

In a corner wisdom whispers. Five and three
(Let it not be preached abroad) make an awful
mystery.

For the blossom unto threefold music bloweth ;
Evermore it is born anew;

And the sap to threefold music floweth,

From the root

Drawn in the dark,

Up to the fruit,

Creeping under the fragrant bark,

Liquid gold, honey sweet. thro' and thro'.

Keen-eyed Sisters, singing airily,

Looking warily

Every way,

Guard the apple night and day,

Lest one from the East come and take it away.

II.

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, watch, watch, ever

and aye,

Looking under silver hair with a silver eye.