He, I suppose, with such a care to carry, Wander'd disconsolate and waited long, Smiting his breast, wherein the notes would tarry, Chiding the slumber of the seed of song: Then in the sudden glory of a minute Airy and excellent the proem came, Rending his bosom, for a god was in it, Waking the seed, for it had burst in flame. So even I athirst for his inspiring, I who have talk'd with Him forget again, Yes, many days with sobs and with desiring Offer to God a patience and a pain; Then through the mid complaint of my confession, Then through the pang and passion of my prayer, Leaps with a start the shock of his possession, Thrills me and touches, and the Lord is there. Lo, if some pen should write upon your rafter MENE and MENE in the folds of flame, Think you could any memories thereafter Wholly retrace the couplet as it came? Lo, if some strange intelligible thunder Sang to the earth the secret of a star, Scarce could ye catch, for terror and for wonder, Shreds of the story that was peal'd so far. A LAST APPEAL O SOMEWHERE, somewhere, God unknown, Exist and be! I am dying; I am all alone; I must have thee! God! God! my sense, my soul, my all, Saw'st thou the faint star flame and fall? IMMORTALITY So when the old delight is born anew, O nights how desolate, O days how few, And no man metes it in his hollow hand A LETTER FROM NEWPORT φαίη κ' ἀθανάτους καὶ ἀγήρως ἔμμεναι αἰεὶ ὃς τότ ̓ ἐπαντιάσεἰ ὅτ ̓ Ἰάονες ἄθροοι εἶεν. THE crimson leafage fires the lawn, The pil'd hydrangeas blazing glow; How blue the vault of breezy dawn Illumes the Atlantic's crested snow! 'Twixt sea and sands how fair to ride Through whispering airs a starlit way, And watch those flashing towers divide Heaven's darkness from the darkling bay! Ah, friend, how vain their pedant's part, Their hurrying toils how idly spent, How have they wrong'd the gentler heart Which thrills the awakening continent, Who have not learnt on this bright shore What sweetness issues from the strong, Where flowerless forest, cataract-roar, Have found a blossom and a song! Ah, what imperial force of fate At last have Child and Mother grown, A beauty kindred with her own. Through English eyes more calmly soft Looks from gray deeps the appealing charm; Reddens on English cheeks more oft The rose of innocent alarm ; Our old-world heart more gravely feels,. Has learnt more force, more self-control; For us through sterner music peals The full accord of soul and soul. Edward Dowden SEEMS not our breathing light? Sound not our voices free? Bid to Life's festal bright No gladder guests there be. Ah stranger, lay aside Cold prudence! I divine The secret you would hide, And you conjecture mine. You too have temperate eyes, Have put your heart to school, Are prov'd. I recognize A brother of the rule. I knew it by your lip, A something when you smil'd, Which meant "close scholarship, A master of the guild." Well, and how good is life; Good to be born, have breath, The calms good, and the strife, Good life, and perfect death. Come, for the dancers wheel, Join we the pleasant din, Comrade, it serves to feel The sackcloth next the skin. LEONARDO'S "MONNA LISA” MAKE thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair Hides 'twixt the lips which smile and still forbear? Secret perfection! Mystery too fair! A LONELY way, and as I went my eyes Could not unfasten from the Spring's sweet things, Lush-sprouted grass, and all that climbs and clings In loose, deep hedges, where the primrose lies In her own fairness, buried blooms surprise The plunderer bee and stop his murmurings, And the glad flutter of a finch's wings Outstartle small blue-speckled butterflies. Blissfully did one speedwell plot beguile My whole heart long; I lov'd each separate flower, Kneeling. I look'd up suddenly —Dear God! There stretch'd the shining plain for many a mile, The mountains rose with what invincible power! And how the sky was fathomless and broad! |