The Statue.



The Statue.


I.

    See where my lady stands,
    Lifting her lustrous hands, -
    Here let me bow.
    Image of truth and grace!
    Maid with the angel-face!
    Earth was no dwelling-place
    For such as thou.


II.

    Ah, thou unhappy stone,
    Make now thy sorrows known;
    Make known thy longing.
    Thou art the form of one
    Whom I, with hopes undone,
    Buried at set of sun, -
    All the friends thronging.


III.

    Thou art some Vision bright
    Lost out of Heaven at night,
    Far from thy race.
    Oft when the others dance,
    Come I, with wistful glance,
    Fearful lest thou, perchance,
    Leave the dark place.


IV.

    No! thou wilt never flee,
    Earth has a charm for thee; -
    Why should we sever?
    Years have I seen thee so,
    Making pretence to go,
    Lifting thine arms of snow, -
    Voiceless for ever!


V.

    Here bring I all my cares,
    Here dream and say my prayers
    While the bells toll.
    O thou belovèd saint!
    Let not my courage faint,
    Let not a shame, or taint,
    Injure my soul!

Eric Mackay

Eric Mackay, born on June 1, 1851, was a noted English poet whose work gained recognition in the late 19th century. He is best known for his sonnets and lyrical poetry, which were celebrated for their emotional depth and technical mastery. His most famous work, 'Love Letters of a Violinist,' was well-received during his lifetime. Mackay's contributions to English literature have been acknowledged for their artistic merit. He passed away on June 8, 1898.

Eric Mackay

A Mother's Name.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

After Two Days.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Ballad Of Kisses.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

La Zingarella. (Italian Poems)

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

English

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Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter VIII. A Vision.



Letter VIII. A Vision.


I.

    Yes, I will tell thee what, a week ago,
    I dreamt of thee, and all the joy therein
    Which I conceiv'd, and all the holy din
    Of throbbing music, which appear'd to flow
    From room to room, as if to make me know
    The power thereof to lead me out of sin.


II.

    Methought I saw thee in a ray of light,
    This side a grove - a dream within a dream -
    With eyes of tender pleading, and the gleam
    Of far-off summers in thy tresses bright;
    And I did tremble at the gracious sig...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter III. Regrets.



Letter III. Regrets.


I.

    When I did wake, to-day, a bird of Heaven,
    A wanton, woeless thing, a wandering sprite,
    Did seem to sing a song for my delight;
    And, far away, did make its holy steven
    Sweeter to hear than lute-strings that are seven;
    And I did weep thereat in my despite.


II.

    O glorious sun! I thought, O gracious king,
    Of all this splendour that we call the earth!
    For thee the lark distils his morning mirth,
    But who will hear the matins that I sing?
    Who will be glad to greet ...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter V. Confessions.



Letter V. Confessions.


I.

    O Lady mine! O Lady of my Life!
    Mine and not mine, a being of the sky
    Turn'd into Woman, and I know not why -
    Is't well, bethink thee, to maintain a strife
    With thy poor servant? War unto the knife,
    Because I greet thee with a lover's eye?


II.

    Is't well to visit me with thy disdain,
    And rack my soul, because, for love of thee,
    I was too prone to sink upon my knee,
    And too intent to make my meaning plain,
    And too resolved to make my loss a gain
    To...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter X. A Retrospect.



Letter X. A Retrospect.


I.

    I walk again beside the roaring sea,
    And once again I harken to the speech
    Of waves exulting on the madden'd beach.
    A sound of awful joy it seems to me,
    A shuddering sound of God's eternity, -
    Telling of things beyond the sage's reach.


II.

    I walk alone. I see the bounding waves
    Curl'd into foam. I watch them as they leap
    Like wild sea-horses loosen'd from the deep.
    And well I know that they have seen the graves
    Of shipwreck'd sailors; for Disaster paves...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter II. Sorrow.



Letter II. Sorrow.


I.

    Yes, I was mad. I know it. I was mad.
    For there is madness in the looks of love;
    And he who frights a tender, brooding dove
    Is not more base than I, and not so sad;
    For I had kill'd the hope that made me glad,
    And curs'd, in thought, the sunlight from above.


II.

    He was a fool, indeed, who lately tried
    To touch the moon, far-shining in the trees,
    He clomb the branches with his hands and knees.
    And craned his neck to kiss what he espied.
    But down he fell, unseemly in his prid...

Eric Mackay

Mirage.

I.

                'Tis a legend of a lover,
                'Tis a ballad to be sung,
                In the gloaming, - under cover, -
                By a minstrel who is young;
    By a singer who has passion, and who sways us with his tongue.


II.

                I, who know it, think upon it,
                Not unhappy, tho' in tears,
                And I gather in a sonnet
                All the glory of the years;
    And I kiss and clasp a shadow when the substance disappears.


III.

                Ah! I see her as she faced me,
                In the sinless summer days,
                When her little hands embraced me,
                And I saddened at her gaze,
    Thinking, Sweet One! will she love ...

Eric Mackay