The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

To love me, I looked forward to the moon To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon

And quickly tied to make a lasting troth. Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;

And, looking on myself, I seemed not one For such man's love! more like an outof-tune

Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,

Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may

float

'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,

And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.

XXXV

If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss

That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,

When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors, another home than this?

Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is

Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?

That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;

For grief indeed is love and grief beside. Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me wilt thou? Open thine heart wide,

And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.

XXXVIII

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white,

Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"

When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst

I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,

Than that first kiss. The second passed in height

The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,

Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed! That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,

With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. The third upon my lips was folded down In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed, I have been proud and said, "My love, my own."

XLI

I thank all who have loved me in their hearts,

With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all

Who paused a little near the prison-wall
To hear my music in its louder parts
Ere they went onward, each one to the
mart's

Or temple's occupation, beyond call.

But thou, who, in my voice's sink and fall When the sob took it, thy divinest Art's Own instrument didst drop down at thy foot

To hearken what I said between my tears, .

Instruct me how to thank thee! Oh, to shoot

My soul's full meaning into future years, That they should lend it utterance, and

salute

Love that endures, from Life that disappears!

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's
faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the

breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

THE POET

[1850.]

THE poet hath the child's sight in his breast And sees all new. What oftenest he has viewed

He views with the first glory. Fair and good

Pall never on him, at the fairest, best,
But stand before him holy and undressed
In week-day false conventions, such as
would

Drag other men down from the altitude
Of primal types, too early dispossessed.
Why, God would tire of all His heavens, as

soon

As thou, O Godlike, childlike poet, didst Of daily and nightly sights of sun and moon!

And therefore hath he set thee in the midst Where men may hear thy wonder's ceaseless tune

And praise His world for ever, as thou bidst.

A COURT LADY [1860.]

HER hair was tawny with gold, her eyes with purple were dark,

Her cheeks' pale opal burnt with a red and restless spark.

Never was lady of Milan nobler in name and in race;

Never was lady of Italy fairer to see in the face.

Never was lady on earth more true as woman and wife,

Larger in judgment and instinct, prouder in manners and life.

She stood in the early morning, and said to her maidens "Bring

That silken robe made ready to wear at the Court of the King.

"Bring me the clasps of diamond, lucid, clear of the mote,

Clasp me the large at the waist, and clasp me the small at the throat.

"Diamonds to fasten the hair, and diamonds to fasten the sleeves, Laces to drop from their rays, like a powder of snow from the eaves.' Gorgeous she entered the sunlight which gathered her up in a flame, While, straight in her open carriage, she to the hospital came.

In she went at the door, and gazing from end to end,

"Many and low are the pallets, but each is the place of a friend."

"This is the way," .laughed the great god Pan

(Laughed while he sat by the river), "The only way, since gods began

To make sweet music, they could succeed." Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,

He blew in power by the river. Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!

Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, -
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.

My Guido was dead! I fell down at his feet,

While they cheered in the street.

I bore it; friends soothed me; my grief looked sublime

As the ransom of Italy. One boy remained

To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time

When the first grew immortal, while both of us strained

To the height he had gained.

And letters still came, shorter, sadder, more strong,

Writ now but in one hand, "I was not to faint,

One loved me for two-would be with me ere long:

And Viva l'Italia! - he died for, our saint,

Who forbids our complaint."

My Nanni would add, "he was safe, and

aware

Of a presence that turned off the balls,— was imprest

Ah, ah, ah! when Gaeta's taken, what then? When the fair wicked queen sits no more at her sport

Of the fire-balls of death crashing souls out of men?

When the guns of Cavalli with final retort

Have cut the game short?

When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee,

When your flag takes all heaven for its white, green, and red,

When you have your country from mountain to sea,

When King Victor has Italy's crown on his head,

(And I have my Dead)