Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard; Enough that he heard it once: we shall hear it byand-by. XI And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence For the fulness of the days? Have we withered or agonized? Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence? Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized? Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear, Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe: But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 't is we musicians know. XII Well, it is earth with me; silence resumes her reign : Which, hark, I have dared and done, for my resting-place is found, The C Major of this life: so, now I will try to sleep. TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA. I I WONDER do you feel to-day As I have felt since, hand in hand, We sat down on the grass, to stray II For me, I touched a thought, I know, III Help me to hold it! First it left There, branching from the brickwork's cleft, IV 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! V The champaign with its endless fleece VI Such life here, through such lengths of hours, Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forms of flowers, Such letting nature have her way While heaven looks from its towers! VII How say you? Let us, O my dove, To love or not to love? VIII 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? IX I would I could adopt your will, See with your eyes, and set my heart Beating by yours, and drink my fill At your soul's springs,-your part, my part In life, for good and ill. X No. I yearn upward, touch you close, Catch your soul's warmth,-I pluck the rose XI Already how am I so far Out of that minute? Must I go Still like the thistle-ball, no bar, Onward, whenever light winds blow, Fixed by no friendly star? XII Just when I seemed about to learn! "DE GUSTIBUS—” I YOUR ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies. The happier they ! Draw yourself up from the light of the moon, And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the beanflower's boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June! II What I love best in all the world In a sea-side house to the farther South, To the water's edge. For, what expands Queen Mary's saying serves for me— (When fortune's malice Lost her, Calais) Open my heart and you will see Such lovers old are I and she: So it always was, so shall ever be. THE GUARDIAN-ANGEL. A PICTURE AT FANO. I DEAR and great Angel, wouldst thou only leave That child, when thou hast done with him, for me! Let me sit all the day here, that when eve |