Shadows of the silver birk

Sweep the green that folds thy grave. Let them rave.

2

Thee nor carketh care nor slander;
Nothing but the small cold worm
Fretteth thine enshrouded form.
Let them rave.

Light and shadow ever wander
O'er the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

3

Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed;
Chaunteth not the brooding bee
Sweeter tones than calumny?
Let them rave.

Thou wilt never raise thine head
From the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

4

Crocodiles wept tears for thee;
The woodbine and eglatere

Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear.
Let them rave.

Rain makes music in the tree

O'er the green that folds thy grave. Let them rave.

5

Round thee blow, self-pleached deep,
Bramble-roses, faint and pale,
And long purples of the dale.
Let them rave.

These in every shower creep

Thro' the green that folds thy grave. Let them rave.

6

The gold-eyed kingcups fine;
The frail bluebell peereth over
Rare broidry of the purple clover.
Let them rave.

Kings have no such couch as thine,
As the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

7

Wild words wander here and there;
God's great gift of speech abused
Makes thy memory confused:

But let them rave.

The balm-cricket carols clear
In the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

(1853)

XXXVII

THE GRASSHOPPER

VOICE of the summer-wind,

Joy of the summer-plain,

I

Life of the summer-hours,
Carol clearly, bound along.
No Tithon thou as poets feign
(Shame fall 'em they are deaf and blind)
But an insect lithe and strong,
Bowing the seeded summer-flowers.
Prove their falsehood and thy quarrel,

Vaulting on thine airy feet.

Clap thy shielded sides and carol,

Carol clearly, chirrup sweet.

Thou art a mailéd warrior in youth and strength complete; Armed cap-a-pie,

Full fair to see;
Unknowing fear,
Undreading loss,

A gallant cavalier,

Sans peur et sans reproche,
In sunlight and in shadow,
The Bayard of the meadow.

II

I would dwell with thee,
Merry grasshopper,
Thou art so glad and free,

And as light as air;

Thou hast no sorrow or tears,
Thou hast no compt of years,
No withered immortality,

But a short youth sunny and free.

Carol clearly, bound along,
Soon thy joy is over,
A summer of loud song,

And slumbers in the clover.
What hast thou to do with evil
In thine hour of love and revel,
In thy heat of summer-pride,
Pushing the thick roots aside

Of the singing flowerèd grasses,

That brush thee with their silken tresses? What hast thou to do with evil, Shooting, singing, ever springing In and out the emerald glooms, Ever leaping, ever singing,

(1830)

Lighting on the golden blooms?

XXXVIII

LOVE, PRIDE AND FORGETFULNESS

ERE yet my heart was sweet Love's tomb,
Love laboured honey busily.

I was the hive, and Love the bee,

My heart the honey-comb.

One very dark and chilly night

Pride came beneath and held a light.

The cruel vapours went through all,
Sweet Love was withered in his cell ;
Pride took Love's sweets, and by a spell
Did change them into gall;

And Memory though fed by Pride
Did wax so thin on gall,

Awhile she scarcely lived at all.

What marvel that she died?

(1830)

XXXIX

[In an unpublished drama, written very early.]
THE varied earth, the moving heaven,
The rapid waste of roving sea,
The fountain-pregnant mountains riven
To shapes of wildest anarchy,
By secret fire and midnight storms

That wander round their windy cones,

The subtle life, the countless forms
Of living things, the wondrous tones

Of man and beast are full of strange
Astonishment and boundless change.
The day, the diamonded night,

The echo, feeble child of sound,
The heavy thunder's griding might,
The herald lightning's starry bound,
The vocal spring of bursting bloom,
The naked summer's glowing birth,
The troublous autumn's sallow gloom,
The hoarhead winter paving earth

With sheeny white, are full of strange
Astonishment and boundless change.
Each sun which from the centre flings
Grand music and redundant fire,
The burning belts, the mighty rings,
The murmurous planets' rolling choir,
The globe-filled arch that, cleaving air,
Lost in its own effulgence sleeps,
The lawless comets as they glare,

And thunder through the sapphire deeps
In wayward strength, are full of strange
Astonishment and boundless change.

(1830)

XL

LOST HOPE

You cast to ground the hope which once was mine:
But did the while your harsh decree deplore,

Embalming with sweet tears the vacant shrine,
My heart, where Hope had been and was no more.

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide:
Careless tenants they !

2

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

3

Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy

Of the dark deserted house.

4

Come away no more of mirth

Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.

5

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious

A great and distant city-have bought
A mansion incorruptible.

Would they could have stayed with us!

(1853)

XLII

THE TEARS OF HEAVEN

HEAVEN weeps above the earth all night till morn, In darkness weeps, as all ashamed to weep, Because the earth hath made her state forlorn With self-wrought evils of unnumbered years, And doth the fruit of her dishonour reap. And all the day heaven gathers back her tears Into her own blue eyes so clear and deep, And showering down the glory of lightsome day, Smiles on the earth's worn brow to win her if she may. (1830)

XLIII

LOVE AND SORROW

O MAIDEN, fresher than the first green leaf
With which the fearful springtide flecks the lea,
Weep not, Almeida, that I said to thee