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The noisy day is deafened by a crowd
Of undistinguished birds, a twittering race;
But only lark and nightingale forlorn
Fill up the silences of night and morn.

1824?

2

"LOVE, DEAREST LADY, SUCH AS I WOULD SPEAK"

IX

LOVE, dearest Lady, such as I would speak,
Lives not within the humour of the eye;-
Not being but an outward phantasy,
That skims the surface of a tinted cheek,-
Else it would wane with beauty, and grow weak
As if the rose made summer,-and so lie
Amongst the perishable things that die,
Unlike the love which I would give and seek:

Whose health is of no hue-to feel decay
With cheeks' decay, that have a rosy prime.
Love is its own great loveliness alway,

And takes new lustre from the touch of time;
Its bough owns no December and no May,
But bears its blossom into Winter's clime.
Thomas Hood.

1827.

SONNETS FROM THE

PORTUGUESE

I

66

I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wishedfor years,

Who each one in a gracious hand appears To 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 flung

A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the

hair;

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,

Guess now who holds thee?"-" Death,"

I said. But, there,

The silver answer rang,-" Not Death,
but Love."

III

UNLIKE are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.

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Our ministering two angels look surprise On one another, as they strike athwart Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art A guest for queens to social pageantries, With gages from a hundred brighter eyes Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part

Of chief musician. What hast thou to do

With looking from the lattice-lights at me, A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through

The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? The chrism is on thine head,-on mine, the dew,

And Death must dig the level where these agree.

VI

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore

Alone upon the threshold of my door

Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,

A

Without the sense of that which I forboreThy touch upon the palm. The widest land

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine

With pulses that beat double. What I do And what I dream include thee, as the wine Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue

God for myself, He hears that name of thine, And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

XIV

IF thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say "I love her for her smile--her look-her way Of speaking gently,-for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day "For these things in themselves, Beloved,

may

Be changed, or change for thee,-and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks

dry,

A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

XVIII

I NEVER gave a lock of hair away

To a man, Dearest, except this to thee, Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully, I ring out to the full brown length and say "Take it." My day of youth went yesterday; My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee,

Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle-tree, As girls do, any more: it only may

Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of tears,

Taught drooping from the head that hangs ! aside

Through sorrow's trick. I thought the funeralshears

Would take this first, but Love is justified,Take it thou,-finding pure, from all those

years,

The kiss my mother left here when she died.

XXII

WHEN our two souls stand up erect and strong,'
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either curvèd point,-what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long

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