And ye talk together still, Hence that look and smile of thine, A CHARACTER. I. WITH a half-glance upon the sky II. He spake of beauty: that the dull Life in dead stones, or spirit in air; Then looking as 't were in a glass, He smoothed his chin and sleeked his hair, And said the earth was beautiful. III. He spake of virtue: not the gods More purely, when they wish to charm Pallas and Juno sitting by: And with a sweeping of the arm, And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye, Devolved his rounded periods. IV. Most delicately hour by hour V. With lips depressed as he were meek, Himself unto himself he sold: Upon himself himself did feed: Quiet, dispassionate, and cold, And other than his form of creed, With chiselled features clear and sleek. THE POET. THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love. He saw through life and death, through good and ill, He saw through his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, Before him lay: with echoing feet he threaded The secret'st walks of fame: The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed And winged with flame, Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue, And of so fierce a flight, From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung, And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field-flower, Cleaving, took root, and springing forth anew Like to the mother plant in semblance, grew And bravely furnished all abroad to fling The winged shafts of truth, To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring Of Hope and Youth. So many minds did gird their orbs with beams, Though one did fling the fire. Heaven flowed upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire. |