And nipt the stubborn grass and juicier flowers
With one unconscious inobservant hand,
While crept the other by degrees more near
Until it rose the cherisht form around,
And prest it closer, only that the ear
Might lean, and deeper drink some half-heard
sound.
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WHERE art thou gone, light-ankled Youth?
And smile that never left thy mouthUntil the Hours grew colder:Then somewhat seem’d to whisper nearThat thou and I must part;I doubted it; I felt no fear,No weight upon the heart.If aught befell it, Love was byAnd roll’d it off again;So, if there ever was a sigh,’T was not a sigh of pain.I may not…
NO, my own love of other years!
Much rests with you that yet endears,Alas! but what with me?Could those bright years o’er me revolveSo gay, o’er you so fair,The pearl of life we would dissolveAnd each the cup might share.You show that truth can ne’er decay,Whatever fate befalls;I, that the myrtle and the bayShoot fresh on ruin’d walls.
Well I remember how you smiled
The soft sea-sand . . . ‘O! what a child!You think you’re writing upon stone!’I have since written what no tideShall ever wash away, what menUnborn shall read o’er ocean wideAnd find Ianthe’s name again.
Struggling, and faint, and fainter didst thou wane,
Came forth to help thee, with half-open eyes,And trembled every one with still surprise,That the black Spectre should have dared assailTheir beauteous queen and seize her sacred veil.
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone!
But when my summer days are gone,And my autumnal haste away.‘Can I be always by your side?’No; but the hours you can, you must,Nor rise at Death’s approaching stride,Nor go when dust is gone to dust.
COME, Sleep! but mind ye! if you come without
By Jove! I would not give you half-a-crownFor all your poppy-heads and all your down.