MASTER of the murmuring courts Where the shapes of sleep convene ! Lo! my spirit here exhorts All the powers of thy demesne Yield thy jealous courts unseen? Vaporous, unaccountable, Dreamland lies forlorn of light, Hollow like a breathing shell. Ah! that from all dreams I might. Choose one dream and guide its flight! I know well What her sleep should tell to-night. There the dreams are multitudes: Some that will not wait for sleep, Deep within the August woods; Some that hum while rest may steep Weary labor laid a-heap; Some, of grievous moods that weep. Poets' fancies all are there: rings there in Whirl the foam-bewildered springs ⚫ Siren there Winds her dizzy hair and sings. Thence the one dream mutually At death's wicket, see, unknown. But for mine own sleep, it lies In one gracious form's control, Reft of her, my dreams are all Clammy trance that fears the sky: Changing footpaths shift and fall; From polluted coverts nigh, Miserable phantoms sigh: Quakes the pall, And the funeral goes by. Master, is it soothly said That, as echoes of man's speech In those halls portrayed of each? Send it from that place to her! Nay, not I; but oh! do thou, Master, from thy shadow kind Moan and song. While the chill months long for May. Not the prayers which with all leave Strength that shall not grieve or err. › Theresoe'er my dreams befall, There her glance doth fall and stay. Suddenly her face is there; So do mounting vapors wreathe The black fir-wood sets its teeth. Secret waters there, and breathe. Master, bid my shadow bend Whispering thus till birth of light, Speech, song, prayer, and end aright. Yet, ah me! if at her head There another phantom lean Shall it strive, or fade unseen? How should love's own messenger Sleep a wedded heart should show,Silent let mine image go, Its old share Of thy spell-bound air to know. Like a vapor wan and mute, Cold as when death's foot shall pass. Then, too, let all hopes of mine, And to dreamworld pine away. Yet from old time, life, not death, Lo! through thee, with mingling breath, O Love bring me so, for strife, Bring me so not death but life! Yea, to Love himself is pour'd This frail song of hope and fear. In her name implor'd, O hear! 1870. PEACE in her chamber, wheresoe'er The thought still brings my soul such grace As morning meadows wear. Whether it still be small and light, A maid's who dreams alone, As from her orchard-gate the moon Its ceiling showed at night: Or whether, in a shadow dense My hair was over in the grass, My eyes, wide open, had the run one. From perfect grief there need not be One thing then learnt remains to me.- I PLUCKED a honeysuckle where The hedge on high is quick with thorn, And climbing for the prize, was torn, And fouled my feet in quag-water; And by the thorns and by the wind The blossom that I took was thinn'd And yet I found it sweet and fair. Thence to a richer growth I came, Where, nursed in mellow intercourse, The honeysuckles sprang by scores, Not harried like my single stem, All virgin lamps of scent and dew, So from my hand that first I threw. Yet plucked not any more of them. 1870. A LITTLE WHILE A LITTLE while a little love The hour yet bears for thee and me Who have not drawn the veil to see If still our heaven be lit above. Thou merely, at the day's last sigh, Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone, And I have heard the night-wind cry And deemed its speech mine own. A little while a little love The scattering autumn hoards for us Whose bower is not yet ruinous Nor quite unleaved our songless grove. Only across the shaken boughs We hear the flood-tides seek the sea, And deep in both our hearts they rouse One wail for thee and me. See it here as I hold it up,- He that sees it may not rest, (0 Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) See my breast, how like it is; (0 Troy Town!) See it bare for the air to kiss! Is the cup to thy heart's desire? O for the breast, O make it his! (0 Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Yea, for my bosom here I sue: (0 Troy Town!) Thou must give it where 't is due, Give it there to the heart's desire. Whom do I give my bosom to? (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) "Each twin breast is an apple sweet! (0 Troy Town!) Once an apple stirred the beat Tall Troy's on fire!) "They that claimed it then were three: (O Troy Town!) For thy sake two hearts did he Make forlorn of the heart's desire. Do for him as he did for thee! 66 (0 Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Mine are apples grown to the south, (0 Troy Town!) Grown to taste in the days of drouth, Taste and waste to the heart's desire: Mine are apples meet for his mouth!" (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Venus looked on Helen's gift, (O Troy Town!) Looked and smiled with subtle drift, Saw the work of her heart's desire :"There thou kneel'st for Love to lift!" (0 Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Venus looked in Helen's face, (0 Troy Town!) Knew far off an hour and place, grace!" |