PROSPICE EAR death?-to feel the fog in my throat, FEAR The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote The power of the night, the press of the storm, Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more, I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest! BUT EURYDICE TO ORPHEUS A Picture by Leighton UT give them me, the mouth, the eyes, the brow! Let them once more absorb me! One look now Will lap me round for ever, not to pass Out of its light, though darkness lie beyond: Of one immortal look! All woe that was, You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely, Your trade was with sticks and clay, You thumbed, thrust, patted and polished, Then laughed "They will see some day "Smith made, and Gibson demolished." My business was song, song, song; I chirped, cheeped, trilled and twittered, I earned no more by a warble You wanted a piece of marble, We studied hard in our styles, Chipped each at a crust like Hindoos, For air looked out on the tiles, For fun watched each other's windows. You lounged, like a boy of the South, And I-soon managed to find Weak points in the flower-fence facing, Was forced to put up a blind And be safe in my corset-lacing. No harm! It was not my fault If you never turned your eye's tail up As I shook upon E in alt, Or ran the chromatic scale up: For spring bade the sparrows pair, Why did not you pinch a flower Of thanks in a look, or sing it? I did look, sharp as a lynx, (And yet the memory rankles) When models arrived, some minx Tripped up-stairs, she and her ankles. But I think I gave you as good! "That foreign fellow,-who can know "How she pays, in a playful mood, "For his tuning her that piano?" IF Could you say so, and never say, Suppose we join hands and fortunes, Her, piano, and long tunes and short tunes?" No, no: you would not be rash, Nor I rasher and something over: But you meet the Prince at the Board, And you're dubbed knight and an R.A. It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: And people suppose me clever: A FACE F one could have that little head of hers Painted Fuscan's early art prefers! Such as the No shade encroaching on the matchless mould Of those two lips, which should be opening soft In the pure profile; not as when she laughs, For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff's Then her lithe neck, three fingers might surround, |