Nor speak it, knowing Death has made His darkness beautiful with thee. LXXXV. This truth came borne with bier and pall, 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all. Sweet after showers, ambrosial air, The round of space, and rapt below The fever from my cheek, and sigh From belt to belt of crimson seas On leagues of odour streaming far, XCIX. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, Jiriczek, Englische Dichter. II Who tremblest thro' thy darkling red Who murmurest in the foliaged eaves Who wakenest with thy balmy breath O wheresoever those may be, CXIV. Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail Against her beauty? May she mix With men and prosper! Who shall fix Her pillars? Let her work prevail. But on her forehead sits a fire: She sets her forward countenance And leaps into the future chance, Submitting all things to desire. Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain— Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst For power. Let her know her place; A higher hand must make her mild, For she is earthly of the mind, But Wisdom heavenly of the soul. O, friend, who camest to thy goal So early, leaving me behind, I would the great world grew like thee, And knowledge, but by year and hour CXXIII. There rolls the deep where grew the tree. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go. But in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream, and hold it true; I cannot think the thing farewell. CXXIX. Dear friend, far off, my lost desire, Known and unknown; human, divine; Strange friend, past, present, and to be; CXXX. Thy voice is on the rolling air; What art thou then? I cannot guess; My love involves the love before; Tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou, I seem to love thee more and more. Far off thou art, but ever nigh; I shall not lose thee tho' I die. CXXXI. O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure, That we may lift from out of dust The truths that never can be proved "COME NOT, WHEN I AM DEAD." COME not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: MAUD (1855). PART I, XXII. I. COME into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, |