Let me and my passionate love go by, But speak to her all things holy and high,

Whatever happen to me!

Me and my harmful love go by ;
But come to her waking, find her asleep,
Powers of the height, Powers of the deep,
And comfort her tho' I die.

XXV.

COURAGE, poor heart of stone!
I will not ask thee why
Thou canst not understand
That thou art left for ever alone :
Courage, poor stupid heart of stone.
Or if I ask thee why,

Care not thou to reply:

V.

Half the night I waste in sighs,
Half in dreams I sorrow after
The delight of early skies;
In a wakeful doze I sorrow
For the hand, the lips, the eyes,
For the meeting of the morrow,
The delight of happy laughter,
The delight of low replies.

VI.

'T is a morning pure and sweet,
And a dewy splendor falls
On the little flower that clings
To the turrets and the walls;
'T is a morning pure and sweet,
And the light and shadow fleet;
She is walking in the meadow,
And the woodland echo rings;

XXVI.

I.

O THAT 't were possible
After long grief and pain

To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!

II.

When I was wont to meet her
In the silent woody places
By the home that gave me birth,
We stood tranced in long embraces
Mixt with kisses sweeter sweeter
Than anything on earth.

III.

A shadow flits before me,

Not thou, but like to thee;

Ah Christ, that it were possible

For one short hour to see

She is singing in the meadow, And the rivulet at her feet Ripples on in light and shadow To the ballad that she sings.

Get thee hence, nor come again,

Mix not memory with doubt,
Pass, thou deathlike type of pain,

us

What and where they be.

IV.

It leads me forth at evening,
It lightly winds and steals
In a cold white robe before me,
When all my spirit reels

At the shouts, the leagues of lights,
And the roaring of the wheels.

'T is the blot upon the brain That will show itself without.

IX.

Then I rise, the eavedrops fall, And the yellow vapors choke The great city sounding wide; The day comes, a dull red ball Wrapt in drifts of lurid smoke On the misty river-tide.

See, there is one of us sobbing,
No limit to his distress;
And another, a lord of all things, praying
To his own great self, as I guess;
And another, a statesman there, betraying
His party-secret, fool, to the press;
And yonder a vile physician, blabbing
The case of his patient-all for what?
To tickle the maggot born in an empty
head,

And wheedle a world that loves him not,
For it is but a world of the dead.

IV.

Nothing but idiot gabble!
For the prophecy given of old
And then not understood,

Has come to pass as foretold;
Not let any man think for the public
good,

But babble, merely for babble.
For I never whisper'd a private affair
Within the hearing of cat or mouse,
No, not to myself in the closet alone,
But I heard it shouted at once from the
top of the house;
Everything came to be known:
Who told him we were there?

And hail once more to the banner of battle unroll'd!

Tho' many a light shall darken, and many shall weep

For those that are crush'd in the clash of jarring claims,

Yet God's just wrath shall be wreak'd on a giant liar;

And many a darkness into the light shall leap,

And shine in the sudden making of splendid names,

And noble thought be freër under the sun, And the heart of a people beat with one desire;

For the peace, that I deem'd no peace, is over and done,

And

now by the side of the Black and the Baltic deep,

And deathful-grinning mouths of the fortress, flames