'I shook him down because he was The finest on the tree. He lies beside thee on the grass. O kiss him once for me. 'O kiss him twice and thrice for me, That have no lips to kiss, For never yet was oak on lea Step deeper yet in herb and fern, Spread upward till thy boughs discern The front of Sumner-place. This fruit of thine by Love is blest, That but a moment lay Where fairer fruit of Love may rest I kiss it twice, I kiss it thrice, The warmth it thence shall win To riper life may magnetise The baby-oak within. But thou, while kingdoms overset, Or lapse from hand to hand, Thy leaf shall never fail, nor yet Thine acorn in the land. May never saw dismember thee, Nor wielded axe disjoint, That art the fairest-spoken tree From here to Lizard-point. O rock upon thy towery-top All throats that gurgle sweet! All starry culmination drop Balm-dews to bathe thy feet! All grass of silky feather grow And while he sinks or swells The full south-breeze around thee blow The sound of minster bells. The fat earth feed thy branchy root, That under deeply strikes! The northern morning o'er thee shoot, High up, in silver spikes! Nor ever lightning char thy grain, Low thunders bring the mellow rain, That makes thee broad and deep! And hear me swear a solemn oath, Will I to Olive plight my troth, And gain her for my bride. And when my marriage morn may fall, She, Dryad-like, shall wear Alternate leaf and acorn-ball In wreath about her hair. And I will work in prose and rhyme, And praise thee more in both Than bard has honour'd beech or lime, Or that Thessalian growth, In which the swarthy ringdove sat, And more than England honours that, Wherein the younger Charles abode And far below the Roundhead rode, And humm'd a surly hymn. LOVE AND DUTY. Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking. hearts? Or all the same as if he had not been? Not so. Still father Truth? O shall the braggart shout For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself Thro' madness, hated by the wise, to law System and empire? Sin itself be found Shall Error in the round of time The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun ? Nightmare of youth, the spectre of himself? |