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The pulsing torrent of a nation's heart; Some legend low and long,
Some legend long and low, In quiet graveyards willow'd seemly round, Whose equal ebb and flow O’er which To-day bends sad, and sees his
To and fro creep
On the dim marge of gray
Into “ asleep.”
As to let go
Withouten sigh or smart,
When it sighs “ No."
Some long low swaying song,
As the sway'd shadow long ON THE DEATH OF MRS. Sways to and fro BROWNING
Where, thro' the crowing cocks,
And by the swinging clocks,
Some weary woe.
Like a dream-boat at sea,
Rising from when to then, Among the singers that on earth aspire Sinking from then to when Beckon'd thee from us, and thou, and thy While the waves go.
lyre Sudden ascended out of sight? Yet even Low and high, high and low, In Heaven thou weepest ! Well, true wife, Now and then, then and now, to weep !
Now, now; Thy voice doth so betray that sweet offence And when the now is then, and when the That no new call should more exalt thee
then is now, hence
And when the low is high, and when the But for thy harp. Ah, lend it, and such grace high is low, Shall still advance thy neighbor that thou Low, low;
Let me float, let the boat Thy seat, and at thy side a vacant place !
Let me glide, let me slide
Gliding boat, sliding boat,
Go, go ;
FROM “MODERN LOVE”
Whereby I know that I Love's temple leave,
And that the purple doors have clos'd behind. “ALL OTHER JOYS ”
Poor soul ! if in those early days unkind
Thy power to sting had been but power to ALL other joys of life he strove to warm,
grieve, And magnify, and catch them to his lip ; We now might with an equal spirit meet, But they had suffer'd shipwreck with the And not be match'd like innocence and vice. ship,
She for the Temple's worship has paid price, And gaz'd upon
him sallow from the storm. And takes the coin of Pity as a cheat. Or if Delusion came, 't was but to show She sees thro' simulation to the bone : The coming minute mock the one that went. What's best in her impels her to the worst. Cold as a mountain in its star-pitch'd tent Never, she cries, shall Pity soothe Love's Stood high Philosophy, less friend than foe ; thirst, Whom self-caged Passion, from its prison- Or foul hypocrisy for truth atone !
bars, Is always watching with a wondering hate.
ONE TWILIGHT HOUR Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And in the osier-isle we heard their noise. And the great price we pay for it full worth ! We had not to look back on summer joys, We have it only when we are half earth : Or forward to a summer of bright dye ; Little avails that coinage to the old ! But in the largeness of the evening earth
Our spirits grew as we went side by side. HIDING THE SKELETON
The hour became her husband, and my bride.
Love that had robb’d us so, thus bless'd our At dinner she is hostess, I am host.
In multitudinous chatterings, as the flood The topic over intellectual deeps
Full brown came from the west, and like In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.
pale blood With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the Expanded to the upper crimson cloud.
Love, that had robb'd us of immortal things, It is in truth a most contagious game;
This little moment mercifully gave, HIDING THE SKELETON shall be its name. And still I see across the twilight wave Such play as this the devils might appall ! The swan sail with her young beneath her But here's the greater wonder; in that wings.
we, Enamor'd of our acting and our wits,
JUGGLING JERRY Admire each other like true hypocrites. Warm-lighted glances, Love's Ephemeræ, Pitch here the tent, while the old horse Shoot gayly o'er the dishes and the wine.
grazes : We waken envy of our happy lot.
By the old hedge-side we 'll halt a stage. Fast, sweet, and golden, shows our mar- It's nigh my last above the daisies : riage-knot.
My next leaf 'll be man's blank
page. Dear guests, you now have seen Love's | Yes, my old girl ! and it's no use crying : corpse-light shine!
Juggler, constable, king, must bow.
One that outjuggles all 's been spying
Long to have me, and he has me now. THEY that Pity in Love's service dwells, We've travellid times to this old common : A porter at the rosy temple's gate.
Often we've hung our pots in the gorse. I miss'd him going : but it is my fate We've had a stirring life, old woman! To come upon him now beside his wells ; You, and I, and the old gray horse.
Races, and fairs, and royal occasions, But it's a woman, old girl, that makes me
Think more kindly of the race ;
When the Great Juggler I must face.
Over the duck-pond the willow shakes. Honest we've liv'd since we've been one.
Lord ! I could then jump like an eagle :
Now from his old girl he's juggled away. Balls he shies up, and is safe to catch.
It's past parsons to console us : Here's where the lads of the village cricket; No, nor no doctor fetch for me : I was a lad not wide from here ;
I can die without my bolus ; Couldn't I whip off the bale from the Two of a trade, lass, never agree ! wicket?
Parson and Doctor ! - don't they love Like an old world those days appear !
rarely, Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatch'd ale- Fighting the devil in other men's fields ! house I know them!
Stand up yourself and match him fairly ; They are old friends of my halts, and Then see how the rascal yields !
seem, Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them : I, lass, have liv'd no gypsy, flaunting, Juggling don't hinder the heart's esteem. Finery while his poor helpmate grubs ;
Coin I've stor'd, and you won't be wanting : Juggling 's no sin, for we must have victual ; You shan't beg from the troughs and tubs.
Nature allows us to bait for the fool. Nobly you've stuck to me, though in his Holding one's own makes us juggle no lit
Many a Marquis would hail you Cook ! But, to increase it, hard juggling's the Palaces you could have rul'd and grown rich rule.
Have n't you juggled a vast amount ?
up the chirper ! ripe ale winks in it ;
Let's have comfort and be at peace. Juggles more games than my sins 'll Once a stout draught made me light as a count.
! the Lord must have his lease. I've murder'd insects with mock thunder: May be — for none see in that black holConscience, for that, in men don't quail.
It's just the sword-trick - I ain't quite
Yonder came smells of the gorse, so nutty,
Is God's house on a blowing day.
Lean me more up the mound ; now I feel For all to hear and all to know
That he is joy, awake, aglow, All the old heath-smells ! Ain't it The tumult of the heart to hear strange?
Through pureness filter'd crystal-clear, There's the world laughing, as if to conceal And know the pleasure sprinkled bright it,
By simple singing of delight, But He's by us, juggling the change. Shrill, irreflective, unrestrain'd,
Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustain'd
Perennial, quavering up the chord
And sparkle dropping argentine ; Crack ! went a gun : one fell : the second Such wooing as the ear receives Wheel'd round him twice, and was off From zephyr caught in choric leaves for new luck :
Of aspens when their chattering net There in the dark her white wing Is flush'd to white with shivers wet ; beckon'd :
And such the water-spirit's chime Drop me a kiss — I'm the bird dead- On mountain heights in morning's prime, struck !
Too freshly sweet to seem excess,
But wider over many heads
Awakening, as it waxes thin,
The best in us to him akin ; He drops the silver chain of sound
And every face to watch him rais'd, Of many links without a break,
Puts on the light of children prais'd, In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
So rich our human pleasure ripes All intervolv'd and spreading wide,
When sweetness on sincereness pipes, Like water-dimples down a tide
Though nought be promis'd from the seas, Where ripple ripple overcurls
But only a soft-ruffling breeze And eddy into eddy whirls ;
Sweep glittering on a still content,
Serenity in ravishment.
For singing till his heaven fills,
Our valley is his
golden cup, Who sits beside our inner springs,
And be the wine which overflows Too often dry for this he brings,
To lift us with him as he
goes : Which seems the very jet of earth
The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine At sight of sun, her music's mirth,
He is, the hills, the human line, As up he wings the spiral stair,
The meadows green, the fallows brown, A song of light, and pierces air
The dreams of labor in the town ; With fountain ardor, fountain play,
He sings the sap, the quicken'd veins ; To reach the shining tops of day,
The wedding song of sun and rains And drink in everything discern'd
He is, the dance of children, thanks An ecstasy to music turn'd,
Of sowers, shout of primrose-banks, Impell’d by what his happy bill
And eye of violets while they breathe ; Disperses ; drinking, showering still, All these the circling song will wreathe, Unthinking save that he may give
And you shall hear the herb and tree, His voice the outlet, there to live
The better heart of men shall see, Renewd in endless notes of glee,
Shall feel celestially, as long So thirsty of his voice is he,
As you crave nothing save the song.
Was never voice of ours could say
Soaring through wider zones that prick'd
his scars With memory of the old revolt from Awe, He reach'd a middle height, and at the
stars, Which are the brain of heaven, he look'd,
and sank. Around the ancient track march’d, rank on
rank, The army of unalterable law.
THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE
Yet men bave
whom we revere, Now names, and men still housing here, Whose lives, by many a battle-dint Defaced, and grinding wheels on Aint, Yield substance, though they sing not,
sweet For song our highest heaven to greet: Whom heavenly singing gives us new, Enspheres them brilliant in our blue, From firmest base to farthest leap, Because their love of Earth is deep, And they are warriors in accord With life to serve and pass reward, So touching purest and so heard In the brain's reflex of yon bird ; Wherefore their soul in me, or mine, Through self-forgetfulness divine, In them, that song aloft maintains, To fill the sky and thrill the plains With showerings drawn from human stores, As he to silence nearer soars, Extends the world at wings and dome, More spacious making more our home, Till lost on his aërial rings In light, and then the fancy sings.
The greatest knew thee, Mother Earth ;
unsour'd He knew thy sons. He prob'd from hell to
hell Of human passions, but of love deflower'd His wisdom was not, for he knew thee well. Thence came the honey'd corner at his lips, The conquering smile wherein his spirit
sails Calm as the God who the white sea-wave
whips, Yet full of speech and intershifting tales, Close mirrors of us : thence had be the
laugh We feel is thine ; broad as ten thousand
beeves At pasture! thence thy songs, that winnow
chaff From grain, bid sick Philosophy's last
leaves Whirl, if they have no response — they en
forced To fatten Earth when from her soul di
LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT On a starr'd night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tir'd of his dark dominion swung the
fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part screen'd, Where sinners hugg'd their spectre of re
pose. Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. And now upon his Western wing he lean'd, Now his huge bulk o'er Africa careen'd, Now the black planet shadow'd Arctic
How smiles he at a generation rank'd
eye a beauteous face in a crack'd glass. But he can spy that little twist of brain Which mov'd some weighty leader of the
blind, Unwitting it was the goad of personal pain, To view in curs'd eclipse our Mother's mind, And show us of some rigid harridan The wretched bondmen till the end of time. O liv'd the Master now to paint us Man, That little twist of brain would ring a chime