"Lo! God's likeness- the ground-planNeither modelled, glazed, or framed : Buss me, thou rough sketch of man, Far too naked to be shamed! "Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance, While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance! Hob-and-nob with brother Death! "Thou art mazed, the night is long, "Youthful hopes, by scores, to all, When the locks are crisp and curled; Unto me my maudlin gall, And my mockeries of the world. "Fill the cup, and fill the can! Mingle madness, mingle scorn! Dregs of life, and lees of man: Yet we will not die forlorn." The voice grew faint: there came a further change; Below were men and horses pierced with worms, By shards and scurf of salt, and scum of dross, And one: power; Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?" THE SKIPPING-ROPE. SURE never yet was Antelope Stand off, or else my skipping-rope Will hit you in the eye. How lightly whirls the skipping-rope! How fairy-like you fly! Go, get you gone, you muse and mope I hate that silly sigh. Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope, Or tell me how to die. There, take it, take my skipping-rope, And hang yourself thereby. Move eastward, happy earth, and leave From fringes of the faded eve, Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne, Dip forward under starry light, And move me to my marriage-morn, And round again to happy night. BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To the haven under the hill; But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, oh Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. |