Nor even in dreams behold how dark and bright
Ascends in smoke and fire by day and night
The hate you died to quench and could but fan,
Sleep well and see no morning, son of man.
But if, the grave rent and the stone rolled by,
At the right hand of majesty on high
You sit, and sitting so remember yet
Your tears, your agony and bloody sweat,
Your cross and passion and the life you gave,
Bow hither out of heaven and see and save.
And wide apart lie we, my love,And seas between the twain.I know not if it rains, my love,In the land where you do lie;And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,You know no more than I.
The aspen over stile and stoneWas talking to itself alone.‘Oh who are these that kiss and pass?A country lover and his lass;Two lovers looking to be wed;And time shall put them both to bed,But she shall lie with earth above,And he beside another love.’And sure enough beneath the treeThere walks another love with me,And overhead…
Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.But over sea and continent from sightSafe to the Indies has the earth conveyedThe vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.‘Tis silent, and…
And about the forest hutBlows the roaring wood of dreams,From deep clay, from desert rock,From the sunk sands of the main,Come not at my door to knock,Hearts that loved me not again.Sleep, be still, turn to your restIn the lands where you are laid;In far lodgings east and westLie down on the beds you made.In…
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,And went with half my life about my ways.
Whom, on the wharf of Lethe waiting,Count you to find? Not me.The brisk fond lackey to fetch and carry,The true, sick-hearted slave,Expect him not in the just cityAnd free land of the grave.
