MEETING AT NIGHT. I. THE grey sea and the long black land; II. Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; And a voice less loud, through joys and fears, PARTING AT MORNING. ROUND the cape of a sudden came the sea, WOMEN AND ROSES. I. I DREAM of a red-rose tree. And which of its roses three Is the dearest rose to me? II. Round and round, like a dance of snow Living and loving and loved to-day. Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens, Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence, They circle their rose on my rose tree. III. Dear rose, thy term is reached, Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached: IV. Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb, How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you, Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast! Once but of love, the poesy, the passion, Drink but once and die !-In vain, the same fashion, They circle their rose on my rose tree. V. Dear rose, thy joy 's undimmed; Thy cup is ruby-rimmed, Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed. VI. Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth Quench like him at a plunge my yearning, Fold me fast where the cincture slips, Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure, Girdle me for once! But no-the old measure, They circle their rose on my rose tree. VII. Dear rose without a thorn, Thy bud's the babe unborn: First streak of a new morn. VIII. Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear! What is far conquers what is near. Roses will bloom nor want beholders, Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders. A novel grace and a beauty strange. I will make an Eve, be the Artist that began her, MISCONCEPTIONS. I. THIS is a spray the bird clung to, Oh, what a hope beyond measure Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! II. This is a heart the queen leant on, Thrilled in a minute erratic, Ere the true bosom she bent on, Meet for love's regal dalmatic. Oh, what a fancy ecstatic Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on,Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on! A PRETTY WOMAN. I. THAT fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers! II. To think men cannot take you, Sweet, And enfold you, Ay, and hold you, And so keep you what they make you, Sweet! III. You like us for a glance, you know For a word's sake Or a sword's sake: All 's the same, whate'er the chance, you know. IV. And in turn we make you ours, we say― You and youth too, Eyes and mouth too, All the face composed of flowers, we say. |