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But she sits and never answers,
Gazing, gazing still

On swift fountain, shadowed valley,
Cedared sunlit hill:

Skene looked at his pale young Who can guess or read her will?

wife.

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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-
Or of what beside?

Is it day-dream of a maiden,
Vision of a bride,

Is it knowledge, love, or pride?

Cold she sits through all my kindling,

Deaf to all I pray :

I have wasted might and wisdom,
Wasted night and day:
Deaf she dreams to all I say.

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 not plant summer flowers and
wait:

I'd have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,

My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer
yet

My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.

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
That all my past results in 'if'—
If I might see another Spring
I'd laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
I would not wait for anything:

I'd use to-day that cannot last,
Be glad to-day and sing.
15 September 1857.

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

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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:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not to-day; it froze, and blows,
and snows,

And you're too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well :

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:
I cannot ope to every one who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling
through my hall;

Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping through my

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
She will not miss our care,

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-day, as she walked, let us
walk in love:

To-morrow follow so.

8 December 1857.

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