And two on the second day.
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18th November 1852
So once more the cry must be.Duteous mourning we fulfilIn God’s name; but by God’s will,Doubt not, the last word is still“Victory!”Funeral,In the music round this pall,Solemn grief yields earth to earth;But what tones of solemn mirthIn the pageant of new birthRise and fall?For indeed,If our eyes were openèd,Who shall say what escort floatsHere, which…
That lamp thou fill’st in Eros’ name to-night,
To-morrow, and for drowned Leander’s sakeTo Anteros its fireless lip shall plight.Aye, waft the unspoken vow: yet dawn’s first lightOn ebbing storm and life twice ebb’d must break;While ‘neath no sunrise, by the Avernian Lake,Lo where Love walks, Death’s pallid neophyte.That lamp within Anteros’ shadowy shrineShall stand unlit (for so the gods decree)Till some one…
I
Streets footsore; minute whisking milliners,Dubbed graceful, but at whom one’s eye demurs,Knowing of England; ladies, much the same;Bland smiling dogs with manes—a few of themAt pains to look like sporting characters;Vast humming tabbies smothered in their furs;Groseille, orgeat, meringues à la crême—Good things to study; ditto bad—the mapsOf sloshy colour in the Louvre; cinq-francsThe largest…
“THERE is a budding morrow in midnight:”—
And here, as lamps across the bridge turn paleIn London’s smokeless resurrection-light,Dark breaks to dawn. But o’er the deadly blightOf Love deflowered and sorrow of none avail,Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail,Can day from darkness ever again take flight?Ah! gave not these two hearts their mutual pledge,Under one mantle sheltered ‘neath the…
I have been here before,
I know the grass beyond the door,The sweet keen smell,The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.You have been mine before,–How long ago I may not know:But just when at that swallow’s soarYour neck turn’d so,Some veil did fall,–I knew it all of yore.Has this been thus before?And shall not thus time’s eddying flightStill with…
A constant keeping-past of shaken trees,
Banks of bright growth, with single blades atopAgainst white sky; and wires—a constant chain—That seem to draw the clouds along with them(Things which one stoops against the light to seeThrough the low window; shaking by at rest,Or fierce like water as the swiftness grows);And, seen through fences or a bridge far off,Trees that in moving…