To plant us in a weeping waste,
Rings with our fellows this one heart
Accordant chimes.
When I had shed my glad year’s leaf,
I did believe I stood alone,
Till that great company of Grief
Taught me to know this craving heart
For not my own.
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Follow me, follow me,
Thro’ the bosky tanglery,Brushwood and bramble!Follow me, follow me,Laugh and leap and scramble!Follow, follow,Hill and hollow,Fosse and burrow,Fen and furrow,Down into the bulrush beds,‘Midst the reeds and osier heads,In the rushy soaking damps,Where the vapours pitch their camps,Follow me, follow me,For a midnight ramble!O! what a mighty fog,What a merry night O ho!Follow, follow, nigher,…
Fair Mother Earth lay on her back last night,
When at a waving of the fallen lightSprang realms of rosy fruitage o’er her eyes.A lustrous heavenly orchard hung the West,Wherein the blood of Eden bloomed again:Red were the myriad cherub-mouths that pressed,Among the clusters, rich with song, full fain,But dumb, because that overmastering spellOf rapture held them dumb: then, here and there,A golden harp…
I
Earth gazes while her fingers dint the breastWhich is his well of strength, his home of rest,And fair to scan.IIMore aid than that embrace,That nourishment, she cannot give: his heartInvolves his fate; and she who urged the startAbides the race.IIIFor he is in the listsContentious with the elements, whose dowerFirst sprang him; for swift vultures…
He rises and begins to round,
Of many links without a break,In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,All intervolv’d and spreading wide,Like water-dimples down a tideWhere ripple ripple overcurlsAnd eddy into eddy whirls;A press of hurried notes that runSo fleet they scarce are more than one,Yet changingly the trills repeatAnd linger ringing while they fleet,Sweet to the quick o’ the ear, and…
At dinner, she is hostess, I am host.
The Topic over intellectual deepsIn buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball:It is in truth a most contagious game:HIDING THE SKELETON, shall be its name.Such play as this the devils might appal!But here’s the greater wonder; in that we,Enamoured of an acting nought can tire,Each other, like true hypocrites, admire;Warm-lighted…
With sagest craft Arachne worked
Awaiting what should plump her soon,To case it in the death-cocoon.Sagaciously her home she choseFor visits that would never close;Inside my chalet-porch her feastPlucked all the winds but chill North-east.The finished structure, bar on bar,Had snatched from light to form a star,And struck on sight, when quick with dews,Like music of the very Muse.Great artists…