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LOVE AMONG THE RUINS.
[Men and Women 1855.]
Miles and miles
As they crop-
(So they say)
Peace or war.
Now,- the country does not even boast a tree,
As you see,
From the hills
Up like fires
And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass
Stock or stone-
Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame
Struck them tame;
Bought and sold.
Now,--the single little turret that remains
On the plains,
Through the chinks-
As they raced,
Viewed the games.
And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve
Smiles to leave
In such peace,
Waits me there
For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb
Till I come.
But he looked upon the city, every side,
Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades'
All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts, – and then,
All the men!
Of my face,
Each on each.
In one year they sent a million fighters forth
South and North,
As the sky,
Gold, of course.
Shut them in,
Love is best.
TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA.
[Men and Women 1855.]
As I have felt since, hand in hand,
In spirit better through the land,
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times,
Mocking across our path) for rhymes
Help me to hold it! First it left
The yellowing fennel, run to seed There, branching from the brickwork's cleft,
Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed Took up the floating weft,
Where one small orange cup amassed
Five beetles, - blind and green they grope Among the honey-meal: and last,
Everywhere on the grassy slope I traced it. Hold it fast!
The champaign with its endless fleece
Of feathery grasses everywhere! Silence and passion, joy and peace,
An everlasting wash of airRome's ghost since her decease.
Such life here, through such lengths of hours,
Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forins of flowers,
Such letting nature have her way While heaven looks from its towers!
How say you? Let us, O my dove,
Let us be unashamed of soul,
How is it under our control
I would that you were all to me,
You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!
Where does the fault lie? What the core O'the wound, since wound must be?
I would I could adopt your will,
See with your eyes, and set my heart
At your soul's springs,-your part my part
No. I yearn upward, touch you close,
Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,
And love it more than tongue can speak-
Already how am I so far
Out of that minute? Must I go
Onward, whenever light winds blow,
Just when I seemed about to learn!
Where is the thread now? Off again!
Infinite passion, and the pain
SAUL. [I—IX Dram. Rom. and Lyrics 1845; ganz: Men and Women 1855.]
SAID Abner, "At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere
thou speak, “Kiss my cheek, wish me well!” Then I wished it,
and did kiss his cheek. And he, “Since the King, O my friend, for thy coun
tenance sent, "Neither drunken nor eaten have we; nor until from