There's somewhat flows to us in life, Have I not found a happy earth? A love-song I had somewhere read, From some odd corner of the brain. I least should breathe a thought of The phantom of a silent song, pain. Would God renew me from my birth I'd almost live my life again. So sweet it seems with thee to walk, Across the walnuts and the wine To be the long and listless boy Late-left an orphan of the squire, Where this old mansion mounted high Looks down upon the village spire: For even here, where I and you Have lived and loved alone so long, Each morn my sleep was broken thro' By some wild skylark's matin song. And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan; I had no motion of my own. Like those long mosses in the stream. Or from the bridge I lean'd to hear In crystal eddies glance and poise, But, Alice, what an hour was that, And on the slope, an absent fool, That went and came a thousand times. Then leapt a trout. In lazy mood A glowing arm, a gleaming neck, For you remember, you had set, That morning, on the casement-edge A long green box of mignonette, And you were leaning from the ledge: And when I raised my eyes, above They met with two so full and brightSuch eyes! I swear to you, my love, That these have never lost their light. I loved, and love dispell'd the fear And fill'd the breast with purer breath. And with the certain step of man. I loved the brimming wave that swam The pool beneath it never still, The very air about the door Made misty with the floating meal. And oft in ramblings on the wold, When April nights began to blow, And April's crescent glimmer'd cold, I saw the village lights below; I knew your taper far away, And full at heart of trembling hope, From off the wold I came, and lay Upon the freshly-flower'd slope. The deep brook groan'd beneath the mill ; And 'by that lamp,' I thought, 'she sits!' The white chalk-quarry from the hill Gleam'd to the flying moon by fits. "O that I were beside her now! O will she answer if I call? Sometimes I saw you sit and spin; At last you rose and moved the light, And all the casement darken'd there. And slowly was my mother brought 'Yet must I love her for your sake; Go fetch your Alice here,' she said: Her eyelid quiver'd as she spake. And down I went to fetch my bride : But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell. I watch'd the little flutterings, The doubt my mother would not see; She spoke at large of many things, And at the last she spoke of me ; And turning look'd upon your face, As near this door you sat apart, And rose, and, with a silent grace Approaching, press'd you heart to heart. Ah, well-but sing the foolish song It is the miller's daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles in her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night, About her dainty dainty waist, And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight. And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom, With her laughter or her sighs, And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasp'd at night. A trifle, sweet! which true love spells— For all the spirit is his own. You must blame Love. His early rage Had force to make me rhyme in youth, And makes me talk too much in age. And now those vivid hours are gone, Like mine own life to me thou art, Where Past and Present, wound in one, Do make a garland for the heart : Yet tears they shed: they had their part Of sorrow for when time was ripe, The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more, With farther lookings on. The kiss, The woven arms, seem but to be Weak symbols of the settled bliss, The comfort, I have found in thee: But that God bless thee, dear-who wrought Two spirits to one equal mindWith blessings beyond hope or thought, With blessings which no words can find. Arise, and let us wander forth, To yon old mill across the wolds; For look, the sunset, south and north, Winds all the vale in rosy folds, And fires your narrow casement glass, FATIMA. O LOVE, Love, Love! Owithering might! I thirsted for the brooks, the showers : Last night, when some one spoke his name, From my swift blood that went and came O Love, O fire! once he drew Before he mounts the hill, I know In my dry brain my spirit soon, The wind sounds like a silver wire, Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently, The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal Hither came at noon Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, Sang to the stillness, till the mountainshade Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff. 'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: The grasshopper is silent in the grass: The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. The purple flower droops: the golden bee Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life. 'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves That house the cold crown'd snake! 0 mountain brooks, I am the daughter of a River-God, 'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Came up from reedy Simois all alone. 'O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft: Far up the solitary morning smote The streaks of virgin snow. With down dropt eyes I sat alone: white-breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair Cluster'd about his temples like a God's : And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came. 'Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. He smiled, and opening out his milkwhite palm When all the full-faced presence of the And river - sunder'd champaign clothed Gods Ranged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due : But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve, cave Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods." 'Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. It was the deep midnoon: one silvery cloud Had lost his way between the piney sides Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, 'O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Still she spake on and still she spake of power, "Which in all action is the end of all; Power fitted to the season; wisdom-bred And throned of wisdom-from all neighbour crowns Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon from me, From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born, Should come most welcome, seeing men, |