And I had fall'n asleep with to my breast In which she said, "So, till to-morrow eve, my Own, adieu! Parting's well-paid with soon again to meet, Soon in your arms to feel so small and sweet, Sweet to myself that am so sweet to you!" WILLIAM ALEXANDER A VISION OF OXFORD Methought I met a Lady yestereven; Born 1824 A passionless grief, that had nor tear nor wail, Sat on her pure proud face, that gleam'd to Heaven, White as a moon-lit sail. She spake: "On this pale brow are looks of youth, "And Isis knows what time-grey towers rear'd up, Gardens and groves and cloister'd halls are mine, Where quaff my sons from many a myrrhine cup Draughts of ambrosial wine. "He knows how night by night my lamps are lit, How day by day my bells are ringing clear, Mother of ancient lore, and Attic wit, And discipline severe. "It may be long ago my dizzied brain "Yet when the great old tongue with strong effect "Time pass'd—my groves were full of warlike stirs ; 'All those long ages, like a holy mother "And must I speak at last of sensual sleep, "Tears for the passionate hearts I might have won, "I have repented, and my glorious name Stands scutcheon'd round with blazonry more bright. The wither'd rod, the emblem of my shame, "And I have led my children on steep mountains That are the springs of thought: "Led them-where on the old poetic shore The flowers that change not with the changing moon Breathe round young hearts, as breathes the sycamore About the bees in June. "And I will bear them as on eagle's wings, To leave them bow'd before the sapphire Throne, High o'er the haunts where dying pleasure sings With sweet and swanlike tone. "And I will lead the age's great expansions, Progressive circles toward thought's Sabbath rest, And point beyond them to the 'many mansions' Where Christ is with the blest. "Am I not pledged, who gave my bridal ring "Surely that spousal morn my chosen ones "He sleeps at last-no wind's tempestuous breath "There was no omen of a great disaster Where castled Walmer stands beside the shore; The evening clouds, like pillar'd alabaster, Hung huge and silent o'er. |