Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

We sit beside the headstone thus,And wish that name were carved for us.The moss reprints more tenderlyThe hard types of the mason’s knife,As heaven’s sweet life renews earth’s lifeWith which we’re tired, my heart and I.II.You see we’re tired, my heart and I.We dealt with books, we trusted men,And in our own blood drenched the…

Where waving woods and waters wildDo hymn an autumn sound.The summer sun is faint on them —The summer flowers depart —Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,Except your musing heart.How there you sat in summer-time,May yet be in your mind;And how you heard the green woods singBeneath the freshening wind.Though the same wind now…

Who each one in a gracious hand appearsTo bear a gift for mortals, old or young:And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,Those of my own life, who by turns had flungA shadow across me. Straightway I was ‘ware,So weeping, how…

Singing within myself as bird or beeWhen such do field-work on a morn of May.But, now I look upon my flowers, decayHas met them in my hands more fatallyBecause more warmly clasped,–and sobs are freeTo come instead of songs. What do you say,Sweet counsellors, dear friends ? that I should goBack straightway to the fields…

To love me, I looked forward to the moonTo slacken all those bonds which seemed too soonAnd quickly tied to make a lasting troth.Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;And, looking on myself, I seemed not oneFor such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tuneWorn viol, a good singer would be wrothTo spoil his song with, and…

Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;For we two look two ways, and cannot shineWith the same sunlight on our brow and hair.On me thou lookest with no doubting care,As on a bee shut in a crystalline;Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love’s divine,And to spread wing and fly in the…

She thinketh of her song, upon the whole,Far more than of her flax; and yet the reelIs full, and artfully her fingers feelWith quick adjustment, provident control,The lines–too subtly twisted to unroll–Out to a perfect thread. I hence appealTo the dear Christian Church–that we may doOur Father’s business in these temples mirk,Thus swift and steadfast,…

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of everyday’sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old…

Our ministering two angels look surpriseOn one another, as they strike athwartTheir wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, artA guest for queens to social pageantries,With gages from a hundred brighter eyesThan tears even can make mine, to play thy partOf chief musician. What hast thou to doWith looking from the lattice-lights at me,A poor, tired,…

The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;And ever since, it grew more clean and white,Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’When the angels speak. A ring of amethystI could not wear here, plainer to my sight,Than that first kiss. The second passed in heightThe first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,Half falling…

In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,And let us hear no sound of human strifeAfter the click of the shutting. Life to life–I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,And feel as safe as guarded by a charmAgainst the stab of worldlings, who if rifeAre weak to injure. Very whitely stillThe lilies of…

That Harold’s pilgrimage at last is o’er—Mute the impassioned tongue, and tuneful shell,That erst was wont in noblest strains to swell—Hush’d the proud shouts that rode Aegaea’s wave!For lo! the great Deliv’rer breathes farewell!Gives to the world his mem’ry and a grave—Expiring in the land he only lived to save!Mourn, Hellas, mourn! and o’er thy…

Home-talk and blessing and the common kissThat comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,When I look up, to drop on a new rangeOf walls and floors, another home than this ?Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which isFilled by dead eyes too tender to know change ?That ‘s hardest. If to…

As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?When called before, I told how hastilyI dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,To run and answer with the smile that cameAt play last moment, and went on with meThrough my…

And from my poet’s forehead to my heartReceive this lock which outweighs argosies,–As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyesThe dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwartThe nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .The bay-crown’s shade, Beloved, I surmise,Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black !Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,I tie…

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,Until the lengthening wings break into fireAt either curved point,—what bitter wrongCan the earth do to us, that we should not longBe here contented? Think. In mounting higher,The angels would press on us and aspireTo drop some golden orb of perfect songInto our deep, dear silence. Let us…

Our voices feel along the Dread to find you,O lost, beloved!Through the thick-shielded and strong-marshalled angels,They press and pierce:Our requiems follow fast on our evangels,—Voice throbs in verse.We are but orphaned spirits left in EdenA time ago:God gave us golden cups, and we were biddenTo feed you so.But now our right hand hath no cup…

Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stoleBetwixt me and the dreadful outer brinkOf obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,Was caught up into love, and taught the wholeOf life in a new rhythm. The cup of doleGod gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.The…

But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,—Kept seven years in a drawer—thy titles shame thee.The breeze that used to blow theeBetween the hedgerow thorns, and take awayAn odour up the lane to last all day,—If breathing now,—unsweetened would forego thee.The sun that used to smite thee,And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn,Till beam…

Thou canst prevail against my fears and flingThy purple round me, till my heart shall growToo close against thine heart henceforth to knowHow it shook when alone. Why, conqueringMay prove as lordly and complete a thingIn lifting upward, as in crushing low!And as a vanquished soldier yields his swordTo one who lifts him from the…

And ever since, it grew more clean and white,Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’When the angels speak. A ring of amethystI could not wear here, plainer to my sight,Than that first kiss. The second passed in heightThe first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!That was…

In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble throughTheir happy eyelids from an unaverredYet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erredIn that last doubt! and yet I cannot rueThe sin most, but the occasion–that we twoShould for a moment stand unministeredBy a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,Thou dovelike help! and, when my fears would rise,With…

And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,And laid them on the outside of the-wallFor such as I to take or leave withal,In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,Ungrateful, that for these most manifoldHigh gifts, I render nothing back at all ?Not so; not cold,–but very poor instead.Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have runThe…

Upon the event with marble. Could it meanTo last, a love set pendulous betweenSorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather thrilled,Distrusting every light that seemed to gildThe onward path, and feared to overleanA finger even. And, though I have grown sereneAnd strong since then, I think that God has willedA still renewable fear . . ….