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And dreaming, some of Autumn past, And some of Spring approaching fast, And some of April buds and showers, And some of songs in July bowers, And all of love; and so this tree, - O that such our death
may be ! Died in sleep, and felt no pain, To live in happier form again : From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star, The artist wrought this loved Guitar, And taught it justly to reply, To all who question skilfully, In language gentle as thine own; Whispering in enamoured tone Sweet oracles of woods and dells, And summer winds in sylvan cells; For it had learnt all harmonies Of the plains and of the skies, Of the forests and the mountains, And the many-voicèd fountains; The clearest echoes of the hills, The softest notes of falling rills, The melodies of birds and bees, The murmuring of summer seas, And pattering rain, and breathing dew, And airs of evening; and it knew That seldom-heard mysterious sound, Which, driven on its diurnal round, As it floats through boundless day, Our world enkindles on its way- All this it knows, but will not tell To those who cannot question well The spirit that inhabits it; It talks according to the wit
The keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among them,
Dear Jane ! The guitar was tinkling, But the notes were not sweet till you sung them
Again.
As the moon's soft splendour O’er the faint cold starlight of heaven
Is thrown, So your voice most tender To the strings without soul had then given
Its own.
The stars will awaken, Though the moon sleep a full hour later,
To-night; No leaf will be shaken Whilst the dews of your melody scatter
Delight.
LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI.
Though the sound overpowers, Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI.
She left me at the silent time When the moon had ceased to climb The azure path of Heaven's steep, And like an albatross asleep, Balanced on her wings of light, Hovered in the purple night, Ere she sought her ocean nest In the chambers of the West. She left me, and I stayed alone Thinking over every tone Which, though silent to the ear, The enchanted heart could hear, · Like notes which die when born, but still Haunt the echoes of the hill ; And feeling ever O too much !- The soft vibration of her touch, As if her gentle hand, even now, Lightly trembled on my brow; And thus, although she absent were, Memory gave me all of her That even Fancy dares to claim : Her presence had made weak and tame
All passions, and I lived alone In the time which is our own; The past and future were forgot, As they had been, and would be, not. But soon, the guardian angel gone, The dæmon reassumed his throne In my faint heart.
I dare not speak My thoughts, but thus disturbed and weak I sat and saw the vessels glide Over the ocean bright and wide, Like spirit-winged chariots sent O’er some serenest element For ministrations strange and far; As if to some Elysian star Sailed for drink to medicine Such sweet and bitter pain as mine. And the wind that winged their flight From the land came fresh and light, And the scent of winged flowers, And the coolness of the hours Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day, Were scattered o'er the twinkling bay. And the fisher with his lamp And spear about the low rocks damp Crept, and struck the fish which came To worship the delusive flame. Too happy they, whose pleasure sought Extinguishes all sense and thought Of the regret that pleasure leaves, Destroying life alone, not peace !
We meet not as we parted,
We feel more than all may see, My bosom is heavy-hearted,
And thine full of doubt for me. One moment has bound the free.
That moment is gone for ever,
Like lightning that flashed and died, Like a snow-flake upon the river,
Like a sunbeam upon the tide, Which the dark shadows hide.
That moment from time was singled
As the first of a life of pain, The cup of its joy was mingled
Delusion too sweet though vain ! Too sweet to be mine again.
Sweet lips, could my heart have hidden
That its life was crushed by you, Ye would not have then forbidden
The death which a heart so true Sought in your briny dew.
Methinks too little cost For a moment so found, so lost !
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