Macmillan, 1904 - 238 páginas

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Página 133 - The lost days of my life until to-day, What were they, could I see them on the street Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat Sown once for food but trodden into clay? Or golden coins squandered and still to pay? Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet? Or such spilt water as in dreams must cheat The throats of men in Hell, who thirst alway?
Página 91 - In painting her I shrined her face Mid mystic trees, where light falls in Hardly at all; a covert place Where you might think to find a din Of doubtful talk, and a live flame Wandering, and many a shape whose name Not itself knoweth, and old dew, And your own footsteps meeting you, And all things going as they came.
Página 90 - Poets' fancies all are there : There the elf-girls flood with wings Valleys full of plaintive air ; There breathe perfumes ; there in rings Whirl the foam-bewildered springs ; Siren there Winds her dizzy hair and sings.
Página 95 - Love's own breast, — Where round the secret of all spheres All angels lay their wings to rest, — How shall my soul stand rapt and awed, When, by the new birth borne abroad Throughout the music of the suns, It enters in her soul at once And knows the silence there for God ! Here with her face doth memory sit Meanwhile, and wait the day's decline, Till other eyes shall look from it, Eyes of the spirit's Palestine, Even than the old gaze tenderer : While hopes and aims long lost with her Stand round...
Página 134 - WHEN vain desire at last and vain regret Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain, What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget ? Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet, — Or may the soul at once in a green plain Stoop through the spray of some sweet life-fountain And cull the dew-drenched flowering amulet ? Ah ! when the wan soul in that golden air Between the scriptured petals softly blown Peers breathless for the...
Página 127 - THE STREAM'S SECRET WHAT thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey,— what secret thing, O wandering water ever whispering? Surely thy speech shall be of her. Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer, What message dost thou bring? Say, hath not Love leaned low This hour beside thy far well-head, And there through jealous hollowed fingers said The thing that most I long to know,— Murmuring with curls all dabbled in thy flow And washed lips rosy red? He told it to thee...
Página 127 - Oh when upon each sculptured court, Where even the wind might not resort, — O'er which Time passed, of like import With the wild Arab boys at sport, — A living face looked in to see: — Oh seemed it not...
Página 131 - How to their father's children they shall be In act and thought of one goodwill; but each Shall for the other have, in silence speech, And in a word complete community? Even so, when first I saw you, seemed it, love, That among souls allied to mine was yet One nearer kindred than life hinted of. O born with me somewhere that men forget, And though in years of sight and sound unmet, Known for my soul's birth-partner well enough!
Página 85 - mid the tide of all emergency Now notes my separate wave, and to what sea Its difficult eddies labour in the ground ? Oh! what is this that knows the road I came, The flame turned cloud, the cloud returned to flame, The lifted shifted steeps and all the way ? — That draws round me at last this wind-warm space, And in regenerate rapture turns my face Upon the devious coverts of dismay...
Página 98 - Beside the pelted window-pane; And there she hearkened what I said, With under-glances that surveyed The empty pastures blind with rain. Next day the memories of these things, Like leaves through which a bird has flown, Still vibrated with Love's warm wings; Till I must make them all my own And paint this picture.

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