‘Twere the best if we unknew
While to-morrow dawned and grew;
It may bring us time to weep:
We were glad to-day.
Joy a little while is won,
Joy is ending while begun;
Then the setting of the sun.
Afterwards is long to rue.
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Oh the dear summer evening! How the air
and wafts of hay scent from the sunburnt swathes:how the glad song of life comes everywhence,from thousand harmless voices, from blithe birdsthat twitter on incessant sweet good-nights,from homeward bees that, through the clover tufts,stray booming, pilfering treasures to the last,from sleepless crickets clamouring in the grass.to tell the world they’re happy day and night,from the…
ONCE a sea-nymph loved a boy:
‘Oh the foamy billow’s joy!Oh the rippling in the sun!Oh the round waves, one by one, Swaying, swaying, swaying, To and fro.Oh my pearl and coral cell, And the long weeds playing,While the surges come and go, Come and go!’Boy and nymph were hand in hand:He and she they had much love.‘Oh the green and…
SOFT voices of the woods, that make
Winged whispers through the leaves where wakeLong wind-wafts dying in a sigh,Replies of birds from brake to brake,Plash of the runnel on its stones,Soft voices, sweet for summer’s sake,There is a word in all your tones,A word that not till now ye spake,‘Goodbye, goodbye.’And yet, see, dearest, overheadThe branches bar a sultry sky,No earliest fleck…
FAREWELL: we two shall still meet day by day,
But never more shall heart respond to heart.Two stranger boats can drift adown one tide,Two branches on one stem grow green apart.Farewell, I say.Farewell: chance travellers, as the path they tread,Change words and smile,And share their travellers’ fortunes, friend with friend,And yet are foreign in their thoughts the while,Several, alone, save that one way they…
I HAVE not yet I could have loved thee, sweet;
The engrafted thought in me throve incomplete,And grew to summer strength in every partOf root and leaf, but hath not borne the flower.Love hath refrained his fullness from my heart.I know no better beauty, none with powerTo hold mine eyes through change and change as thine,Like southern skies that alter with each hour,And yet are…
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,My token and remembrance with the rest:But here, where in the brightening of the westI see her mountains grow into the sky,Her native world, and mine because of her,Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood’s stir,That was her dearest music, fills all sound,I am with her;And…