But she sits and never answers, On swift fountain, shadowed valley, Skene looked at his pale young Who can guess or read her will? wife. I wish I could bear the pang for So she sits and doth not answer both.' 'I wish I could bear the pang alone: Courage, dear, I am not loth.' Kiss and kiss: 'It is not pain Thus to kiss and die. One kiss more.' And yet one again.' 'Good-bye.''Good-bye.' September 1857. With her dreaming eyes, With her languid look delicious Almost paradise, Less than happy, over-wise. Answer me, O self-forgetful- Is it day-dream of a maiden, Is it knowledge, love, or pride? Cold she sits through all my kindling, Deaf to all I pray : I have wasted might and wisdom, Now if I could guess her secret, Were it worth the guess?Time is lessening, hope is lessening, Love grows less and less : What care I for no or yes? I will give her stately burial, Though, when she lies dead : For dear memory of the past time, Of her royal head, Of the much I strove and said. I will give her stately burial, Stately willow-branches bent: Have her carved in alabaster, As she dreamed and leant While I wondered what she meant. 8 September 1857. A NIGHTMARE FRAGMENT I HAVE a friend in ghostlandEarly found, ah me how early lost!Blood-red seaweeds drip along that coastland By the strong sea wrenched and tost. If I wake he hunts me like a nightmare: ANOTHER SPRING IF I might see another Spring, I'd have my crocuses at once, My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer My white or azure violet, If I might see another Spring, I'd listen to the daylight birds That build their nests and pair and sing, Nor wait for mateless nightingale ; I'd listen to the lusty herds, The ewes with lambs as white as snow, I'd find out music in the hail And all the winds that blow. If I might see another Spring Oh stinging comment on my past I'd use to-day that cannot last, FOR ONE SAKE I feel my hair stand up, my body ONE passed me like a flash of creep: Without light I see a blasting sight there, See a secret I must keep. 12 September 1857. lightning by, To ring clear bells of heaven beyond the stars. Then said I: Wars and rumours of your wars Are dull with din of what and where and why: My heart is where these troubles draw not nigh: I took the perfect balances and weighed ; No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise; Let me alone till heaven shall Weighed, found it wanting: not a burst its bars, Break up its fountains, roll its flashing cars Earthwards with fire to test and purify. Let me alone to-night, and one night more Of which I shall not count the eventide : Its morrow will not be as days before. Let me alone to dream, perhaps to weep: word I said, But silent made my choice. None know the choice I made; I make it still. None know the choice I made and broke my heart, Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will Once, chosen for once my part. I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold, Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live. To dream of her the imperishable My heart dies inch by inch; the bride, Dream while I wake and dream on while I sleep. 25 October 1857. time grows old, Grows old in which I grieve. 8 November 1857. II And hastened: but I loitered; while the dews Fell fast I loitered still. 23 November 1857. WINTER: MY SECRET I TELL my secret? No indeed, not I: And you're too curious: fie! Nor even May, whose flowers One frost may wither through the sunless hours. Perhaps some languid summer day, When drowsy birds sing less and less, And golden fruit is ripening to excess, If there's not too much sun nor too much cloud, And the warm wind is neither still nor loud, Perhaps my secret I may say, Only, my secret's mine, and I won't Or you may guess. tell. Or, after all, perhaps there's none : Suppose there is no secret after all, But only just my fun. 23 November 1857. MY FRIEND To-day's a nipping day, a biting day; Two days ago with dancing glancing In which one wants a shawl, A veil, a cloak, and other wraps: Come bounding and surrounding me, wraps and all. I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows His nose to Russian snows To be pecked at by every wind that blows? You would not peck? for good will, I thank you Believe, but leave that truth un tested still. Spring's an expansive time: yet I don't trust March with its peck of dust, Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers, hair, With living lips and eyes; Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies; So pale, yet still so fair. We have not left her yet, not yet alone; But soon must leave her where Bone of our bone. Weep not; O friends, we should not weep: Our friend of friends lies full of rest; No sorrow rankles in her breast, Fallen fast asleep. She sleeps below, She wakes and laughs above. To-morrow follow so. 8 December 1857. |