A LOVE SYMPHONY ALONG the garden ways just now I heard the flowers speak; The white rose told me of your brow, I went into the wood anon, And heard the wild birds sing, How sweet you were, they warbled on, Piped, trilled, the selfsame thing. Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause, The burden did repeat, And still began again because You were more sweet. And then I went down to the sea, LYNMOUTH AROUND my love and me the brooding hills, Full of delicious murmurs, rise on high, Closing upon this spot the summer fills, Behind us on the shore down there the sea And now we breathe the odors of the glen, The tree that dwells with one ecstatic thought, Our path is here; the rocky winding ledge Where restful waters lie as in a dream. The green exuberant branches overhead Spread out beneath us in some pathless place Where the sun only reaches and outpours His smile, where never a foot hath left a trace. And there are perfect nooks that have been made By the long growing tree, through some chance turn Its trunk took; since transform'd with scent and shade And filled with all the glory of the fern. And tender-tinted wood flowers are seen, Clear starry blooms and bells of pensive blue, That lead their delicate lives there in the green What were the world if it should lose their hue? Even o'er the rough out-jutting stone that blocks The narrow way some cunning hand hath strewn The moss in rich adornment, and the rocks Down there seem written thick with many a rune.* And here, upon that stone, we rest awhile, *Rune secret. INDEX OF FIRST LINES Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!). And is this Yarrow? This the stream.. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!). . . . As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay. At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time.... PAGE 81 121 66 224 56 77 225 97 205 202 Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art. 114 But do not let us quarrel any more.... 192 Comrades, leave me here a little.... 142 Cold in the earth-and the deep snow piled above thee 203 Earth has not anything to show more fair.. Gather ye rose-buds while ye may. Go, lovely rose.. 14 42 46 5 129 19 21 Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand.. God makes sech nights, all white an' still. Hail to thee, blithe spirit!.. Half a league, half a league.... PAGE 178 85 He who hath bent him o'er the dead.. Hear, my beloved, an old Milesian story!.. I come from haunts of coot and hern... I have had playmates, I have had companions. I met a traveller from an antique land.. 82 60 180 92 139 71 93 I said - Then, dearest, since 'tis so... 187 123 I wandered by the brookside.. 174 45 If love were what the rose is.. 219 If thou must love me, let it be for naught. Just for a handful of silver he left us.. Let me not to the marriage of true minds... 15 126 183 9 217 44 104 IIO 4I 4 8 22 162 |