The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, TO EMILIA VIVIANI. MADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me Alas, and they are wet! Is it with thy kisses or thy tears? Such fragrance drew From plant or flower the very doubt endears My sadness ever new, The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee. Send the stars light, but send not love to me, In whom love ever made Health like a heap of embers soon to fade. TIME. UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality! And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea? LINES. I. FAR, far away, O ye Halcyons of memory, Seek some far calmer nest Than this abandoned breast;— II. Vultures, who build your bowers High in the Future's towers, Withered hopes on hopes are spread, THE FUGITIVES. I. THE waters are flashing, The whirlwind is rolling, The Earth is like Ocean, And she cried: "Ply the oar! And from isle, tower and rock, From the lee. III. "And fear'st thou, and fear'st thou? And seest thou, and hear'st thou? And drive we not free O'er the terrible sea, I and thou?" One boat-cloke did cover While around the lashed Ocean, IV. In the court of the fortress Like a blood-hound well beaten, On the topmost watch-turret, And with curses as wild As e'er clung to child, He devotes to the blast The best, loveliest and last Of his name! ΤΟ MUSIC, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, MUTABILITY. I. THE flower that smiles to-day All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world's delight? II. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, III. Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Then wake to weep. |