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0, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath | O, had he whispered, when his sweetest kiss not set ;
Was warm upon my mouth in fancied bliss, Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my He had kissed another woman even as this, – fancy yet.
It were less bitter! Sometimes I could weep Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to To be thus cheated, like a child asleep ; Locksley Hall !
Were not my anguish far too dry and deep. Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall.
So I built my house upon another's ground;
Mocked with a heart just caught at the rebound, Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over A cankered thing that looked so firm and sound. heath and holt,
And when that heart grew colder, - colder still, Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.
1, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfil,
Blaming my foolish pain, exacting will,
All, — anything but him. It was to be
Was made this bitter Tantalus-cup for me.
I and my children never shall be shamed :
He is a just man, — he will live unblamed.
Only - O God, O God, to cry for bread,
And get a stone! Daily to lay my head
Upon a bosom where the old love's dead !
Dead ? -- Fool! It never lived. It only stirred
Galvanic, like an hour-cold corpse. None heard :
So let me bury it without a word.
He 'll keep that other woman from my sight.
I only know that it was his delight
As his was mine ; I only know he stands
Then to a flickering smile his lips commands, As easily raised up, breathing,
fair to see, As he could bring his whole heart back to me. Lest I should grieve, or jealous anger show.
He need not. When the ship's gone down, I trow,
We little reck whatever wind may blow.
No world's laugh or world's taunt, no pity of
friends But shut my love up till he came and sued,
Or sneer of foes, with this my torment blends. Then poured it o'er his dry life like a flood.
None knows, -none heeds. I have a little pride; I was so happy I could make him blest !
Enough to stand up, wifelike, by his side, So happy that I was his first and best,
With the same smile as when I was his bride. As he mine, - when he took me to his breast.
And I shall take his children to my arms; Ah me! if only then he had been true !
They will not miss these fading, worthless charms; If for one little year, a month or two,
Their kiss -ah! unlike his — all pain disarms.
And haply as the solemn years go by,
He will think sometimes, with regretful sigh,
The other woman was less true than I.
DINAH MARIA MUIOCK.
Sitting by my side,
At my feet,
Touched the sweet.
Sweet to him.
ENOCH ARDEN AT THE WINDOW.
“Speak, - I love thee best ! ”
He exclaimed, “Let thy love my own foretell."
I confessed : “Clasp my heart on thine
Now unblamed, Since upon thy soul as well
But Enoch yearned to see her face again ; “If I might look on her sweet face again And know that she is happy." So the thought Haunted and harassed him, and drove him forth At evening when the dull November day Was growing duller twilight, to the hill. There he sat down gazing on all below : There did a thousand memories roll upon him, Unspeakable for sadness. By and by The ruddy square of comfortable, light, Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house, Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures The bird of passage, till he madly strikes Against it, and beats out his weary life.
Was it wrong to own,
His alone ?
Beauty, youth, -
I gave these.
To be just,
For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street, The latest house to landward ; but behind, With one small gate that opened on the waste, Flourished a little garden square and walled : And in it throve an ancient evergreen, A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk Of shingle, and a walk divided it : But Enoch shunned the middle walk and stola
Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence That which he better might have shunned, if
griefs Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.
For cups and silver on the burnished board Sparkled and shone ; so genial was the hearth; And on the right hand of the hearth he saw Philip, the slighted suitor of old times, Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees; And o'er her second father stoopt a girl, A later but a loftier Annie Lee, Fair-haired and tall, and from her lifted hand Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring To tempt the babe, who reared his creasy arms, Caught at and ever missed it, and they laughed : And on the left hand of the hearth he saw The mother glancing often toward her babe, But turning now and then to speak with him, Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong, And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled.
New hope may bloom,
And days may coine,
As love's young dream !
As love's young dream !
may soar, When wild youth 's past; Though he win the wise, who frowned before,
To smile at last ;
A joy so sweet
His soul-felt flame,
The one loved name !
Now when the dead man come to life beheld His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee, And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness, And his own children tall and beautiful, And him, that other, reigning in his place, Lord of his rights and of his children's love, Then he, though Miriam Lane had told him all, Because things seen are mightierthan things heard, Staggered and shook, holding the branch, and
feared To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry, Which in one moment, like the blast of doom, Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.
0, that hallowed form is ne'er forgot,
Which first love traced ;
'T was odor fled
As soon as shed ; 'T was morning's winged dream ; 'T was a light that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream ! O, 't was a light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream !
THOMAS MOORE ("Irish Melodies 2
WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED.
He therefore turning softly like a thief, Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot, And feeling all along the garden-wall, Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found, Crept to the gate, and opened it, and closed, As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door, Behind him, and came out upon the waste.
WHEN the lamp is shattered
And there he would have knelt, but that his
knees Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug His fingers into the wet earth, and prayed.
As music and splendor
LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.
O the days are gone when beauty bright
My heart's chain wove! When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love !
When hearts have once mingled,