When first I saw you, felt you take my hand,
I could not speak for happiness to find
How more than all they said your heart was kind,
How strong you were, and quick to understand,
I dared not say: "I who am least of those
Who call you friend, I love you, and I crave
A little love that I may be more brave
Because one watches me who cares and knows."
So, silent, long ago I used to look
High up along the shelves at one great book,
And longed to see its contents, childishwise,
And now I know it for my Poet's own,,
So sometime shall I know you and be known,
And looking upward, I shall find your eyes.

These shades were made for Love alone, -
Here only smiles and kisses sweet
Shall play around his flow'ry throne,
And doves shall sentinel the seat.

Come, Delia! 'tis a genial day;
It bids us to his bow'r repair: -
"But what will little Cupid say?" -
"Say! sweet? - why, give a welcome there."

There not a tell-tale beam shall peep
Upon thy beauty's rich display, -
There not a breeze shall dare to sweep
The leaves, to whisper what we say.

(To a tune of Blake’s)
I.
Baby, baby bright,
Sleep can steal from sight
Little of your light:
Soft as fire in dew,
Still the life in you
Lights your slumber through.
Four white eyelids keep
Fast the seal of sleep
Deep as love is deep:
Yet, though closed it lies,
Love behind them spies
Heaven in two blue eyes.

II.
Baby, baby dear,
Earth and heaven are near
Now, for heaven is here.
Heaven is every place
Where your flower-sweet face
Fills our eyes with grace.
Till your own eyes deign
Earth a glance again,
Earth and heaven are twain.
Now your sleep is done,
Shine, and show the sun
Earth and heaven are one.

III.
Baby, baby sweet,
Love’s own lips are meet
Scarce to kiss your fee...

    Last night a friend of mine and I sat talking,
    When all at once I found 'twas one o'clock.
    So we came out and he went home to wife
    And children, and I started for the club
    Which I call home; and then just like a flash
    You came into my mind. I bought a slug
    And stood, in the booth, with doubtful heart and heard
    The buzzer buzz. Well, it was sweet to me
    To hear your voice at last - it was so drowsy,
    Like a child's voice. And I could see your eyes
    Heavy with sleep, and I could see you standing
    In nightgown with head leaned against the wall....

    Julia! the welcome of your drowsy voice
    Went through me like the warmth of priceless wine,
    It showed your understanding, that you know
    How it is with a man, a...

Listen, and when thy hand this paper presses,
O time-worn woman, think of her who blesses
What thy thin fingers touch, with her caresses.

O mother, for the weight of years that break thee!
O daughter, for slow time must yet awake thee,
And from the changes of my heart must make thee.

O fainting traveller, morn is grey in heaven.
Dost thou remember how the clouds were driven?
And are they calm about the fall of even?

Pause near the ending of thy long migration,
For this one sudden hour of desolation
Appeals to one hour of thy meditation.

Suffer, O silent one, that I remind thee
Of the great hills that stormed the sky behind thee,
Of the wild winds of power that have resigned thee.

Know that the mournful plain where thou must wander

And doth not a meeting like this make amends,
    For all the long years I've been wandering away--
To see thus around me my youth's early friends,
    As smiling and kind as in that happy day?
Tho' haply o'er some of your brows, as o'er mine,
    The snow-fall of time may be stealing--what then?
Like Alps in the sunset, thus lighted by wine,
    We'll wear the gay tinge of youth's roses again.

What softened remembrances come o'er the heart,
    In gazing on those we've been lost to so long!
The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part,
    Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng,
As letters some hand hath invisibly traced,
    When held to the flame will steal out on the sight,
So many a feeling, that long seemed effaced,
    The warmth of...

On an ancient vase representing in bas-relief the flight of Helen.


    This is the vase of Love
    Whose feet would ever rove
        O'er land and sea;
    Whose hopes forever seek
    Bright eyes, the vermeiled cheek,
        And ways made free.

    Do we not understand
    Why thou didst leave thy land,
        Thy spouse, thy hearth?
    Helen of Troy, Greek art
    Hath made our heart thy heart,
        Thy mirth our mirth.

    For Paris did appear,
    Curled hair and rosy ear
        And tapering hands.
    He spoke, the blood ran fast,
    He touched, and killed the past,
        And clove its bands.

    And this, I deem, is why
    The restless ages sigh,
        Helen, for thee.
    Whate'e...

I am free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.

I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly,
But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply,
I should awake, I should awake and remember
I am my lover’s.

Why, my heart, do we love her so?
(Geraldine, Geraldine!)
Why does the great sea ebb and flow? -
Why does the round world spin?
Geraldine, Geraldine,
Bid me my life renew:
What is it worth unless I win,
Love - love and you?

Why, my heart, when we speak her name
(Geraldine, Geraldine!)
Throbs the word like a flinging flame? -
Why does the Spring begin?
Geraldine, Geraldine,
Bid me indeed to be:
Open your heart, and take us in,
Love - love and me.

On the wooden deck of the wooden Junk, silent, alone, we lie,
With silver foam about the bow, and a silver moon in the sky:
A glimmer of dimmer silver here, from the anklets round your feet,
Our lips may close on each other's lips, but never our souls may meet.

For though in my arms you lie at rest, your name I have never heard,
To carry a thought between us two, we have not a single word.
And yet what matter we do not speak, when the ardent eyes have spoken,
The way of love is a sweeter way, when the silence is unbroken.

As a wayward Fancy, tired at times, of the cultured Damask Rose,
Drifts away to the tangled copse, where the wild Anemone grows;
So the ordered and licit love ashore, is hardly fresh and free
As this light love in the open wind and salt of the outer sea.<...

THE TYPES.

List, and in memory bear
These six fond loving pair.
Love, when aroused, kept true
Rustan and Rad!
Strangers approach from far
Joseph and Suleika;
Love, void of hope, is in
Ferhad and Schirin.
Born for each other are
Medschnun and Lily;
Loving, though old and grey,
Dschemil saw Boteinah.
Love's sweet caprice anon,
Brown maid* and Solomon!
If thou dost mark them well,
Stronger thy love will swell.

Oh Litis, little slave, why will you sleep?
These long Egyptian noons bend down your head
Bowed like the yarrow with a yellow bee.
There, lift your eyes no man has ever kindled,
Dark eyes that wait like faggots for the fire.
See how the temple's solid square of shade
Points north to Lesbos, and the splendid sea
That you have never seen, oh evening-eyed.
Yet have you never wondered what the Nile
Is seeking always, restless and wild with spring
And no less in the winter, seeking still?
How shall I tell you? Can you think of fields
Greater than Gods could till, more blue than night
Sown over with the stars; and delicate
With filmy nets of foam that come and go?
It is more cruel and more compassionate
Than harried earth. It takes with unconcern
And quick forg...

Si è debile il filo a cui s' attene.

HE GRIEVES IN ABSENCE FROM LAURA.


    The thread on which my weary life depends
So fragile is and weak,
If none kind succour lends,
Soon 'neath the painful burden will it break;
Since doom'd to take my sad farewell of her,
In whom begins and ends
My bliss, one hope, to stir
My sinking spirit from its black despair,
Whispers, "Though lost awhile
That form so dear and fair,
Sad soul! the trial bear,
For thee e'en yet the sun may brightly shine,
And days more happy smile,
Once more the lost loved treasure may be thine."
This thought awhile sustains me, but again
To fail me and forsake in worse excess of pain.

Time flies apace: the silent hours and swift
So urge his journey on,

Whene'er thy wandering footstep bends
Its pathway to the Hermit tree,
Among its cordial band of friends,
Sweet Mary! wilt thou number me?

Though all too few the hours have roll'd
That saw the stranger linger here,
In memory's volume let them hold
One little spot to friendship dear.

I oft have thought how sweet 'twould be
To steal the bird of Eden's art;
And leave behind a trace of me
On every kind and friendly heart,

And like the breeze in fragrance rolled,
To gather as I wander by,
From every soul of kindred mould,
Some touch of cordial sympathy.

'Tis the best charm in life's dull dream,
To feel that yet there linger here
Bright eyes that look with fond esteem,
And feeling hearts that hold me dear.

i.

Glory to thee, my Queen! whom far away
    My thoughts aspire to,--as the birds of May
Aspire o' mornings,--as in lonely nooks
The gurgling murmurs of neglected brooks
Aspire to moonlight,--aye! as earth aspires
When through the East, alert with wild desires,
    The rapturous sun surveys the welkin's height,
And flecks the world with witcheries of his fires.


ii.

Oh, I should curb my grief. I should entone
    No plaint to thee; no loss should I bemoan!
I should be patient, I, though full of care,
And not attempt, by bias of a prayer,
To sway thy spirit, or to urge anew
A claim contested. For my days are few;
    My days, I think, are few upon the earth
Since I must shun the joys I would pursue.


iii.

...

A breath                         A breath
   And a sigh, -                     And a sigh, - 
    How we fly                       How we fly
From Death!                      From Death! - 
                        
A palm                           Sing on
    Warm pressed,                    O our bird!
    As we guessed                    Thou art heard
Love's psalm.                    Alone.
                        
A word                           We know
    Breathed close,                  No life,
    And then rose                    Neither strife,
The bird                         Nor woe,
                        
That cowers                      Nor aught
    In the wood                      But this hour, - 
    'Mid a flood                     L...

1

As by the fix'd decrees of Heaven,
'Tis vain to hope that Joy can last;
The dearest boon that Life has given,
To me is - visions of the past.


2.

For these this toy of blushing hue
I prize with zeal before unknown,
It tells me of a Friend I knew,
Who loved me for myself alone.


3.

It tells me what how few can say
Though all the social tie commend;
Recorded in my heart 'twill lay, [2]
It tells me mine was once a Friend.


4.

Through many a weary day gone by,
With time the gift is dearer grown;
And still I view in Memory's eye
That teardrop sparkle through my own.


5.

And heartless Age perhaps will smile,
Or wonder whence those feelings sprung;

Sweet water-moons, blown into lights
Of flying gold on pool and creek,
And many sounds and many sights
Of younger days are back this week.
I cannot say I sought to face
Or greatly cared to cross again
The subtle spirit of the place
Whose life is mixed with Rose Lorraine.

What though her voice rings clearly through
A nightly dream I gladly keep,
No wish have I to start anew
Heart fountains that have ceased to leap.
Here, face to face with different days,
And later things that plead for love,
It would be worse than wrong to raise
A phantom far too fain to move.

But, Rose Lorraine ah! Rose Lorraine,
I’ll whisper now, where no one hears
If you should chance to meet again
The man you kissed in soft, dead years,
Just say for once “He ...