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MASTER of the murmuring courts Where the shapes of sleep convene !

Lo! my spirit here exhorts

All the powers of thy demesne
For their aid to woo my queen.
What reports

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;
Interludes,

Some, of grievous moods that weep.

Poets' fancies all are there:
There the elf-girls flood with wings
Valleys full of plaintive air;
There breathe perfumes;

rings

there in

Whirl the foam-bewildered springs ⚫ Siren there

Winds her dizzy hair and sings.

Thence the one dream mutually
Dreamed in bridal unison,
Less than waking ecstasy;
Half-formed visions that make moan
In the house of birth alone;
And what we,

At death's wicket, see, unknown.

But for mine own sleep, it lies

In one gracious form's control,
Fair with honorable eyes,
Lamps of a translucent soul;
O their glance is loftiest dole,
Sweet and wise,
Wherein Love descries his goal.

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
Far in secret clefts are made,
So do all men's bodies reach
Shadows o'er thy sunken beach,-
Shape or shade

In those halls portrayed of each?
Ah! might I, by thy good grace
Groping in the windy stair,
(Darkness and the breath of space.
Like loud waters everywhere),
Meeting mine own image there
Face to face,

Send it from that place to her!

Nay, not I; but oh! do thou,

Master, from thy shadow kind
Call my body's phantom now:
Bid it bear its face declin'd
Till its flight her slumbers find,
And her brow
Feel its presence bow like wind.

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Moan and song.

While the chill months long for May.

Not the prayers which with all leave
The world's fluent woes prefer,-
Not the praise the world doth give,
Dulcet fulsome whisperer;—
Let it yield my love to her,
And achieve

Strength that shall not grieve or err.

› Theresoe'er my dreams befall,
Both at night-watch (let it say),
And where round the sun-dial
The reluctant hours of day,
Heartless, hopeless of their way,
Rest and call;

There her glance doth fall and stay. Suddenly her face is there;

So do mounting vapors wreathe
Subtle-scented transports where

The black fir-wood sets its teeth.
Part the boughs and look beneath,-
Lilies share

Secret waters there, and breathe.

Master, bid my shadow bend

Whispering thus till birth of light,
Lest new shapes that sleep may send
Scatter all its work to flight ;-
Master, master of the night,
Bid it spend

Speech, song, prayer, and end aright. Yet, ah me! if at her head

There another phantom lean
Murmuring o'er the fragrant bed,--
Ah! and if my spirit's queen
Smile those alien words between,-
Ah! poor shade!

Shall it strive, or fade unseen?

How should love's own messenger
Strive with love and be love's foe?
Master, nay! If thus, in her,

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,
Like a flame, so let it pass;
One low sigh across her lute,
One dull breath against her glass;
And to my sad soul, alas!
One salute

Cold as when death's foot shall pass.

Then, too, let all hopes of mine,
All vain hopes by night and day,
Slowly at thy summoning sign
Rise up pallid and obey.
Dreams, if this is thus, were they :-
Be they thine,

And to dreamworld pine away.

Yet from old time, life, not death,
Master, in thy rule is rife :

Lo! through thee, with mingling breath,
Adam woke beside his wife.

O Love bring me so, for strife,
Force and faith,

Bring me so not death but life!

Yea, to Love himself is pour'd

This frail song of hope and fear.
Thou art Love, of one accord
With kind Sleep to bring her near,
Still-eyed, deep-eyed, ah how dear!
Master, Lord,

In her name implor'd, O hear! 1870.
FIRST LOVE REMEMBERED

PEACE in her chamber, wheresoe'er
It be, a holy place:

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
As nuptial hymns invoke,
Innocent maidenhood awoke
To married innocence:

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My hair was over in the grass,
My naked ears heard the day pass.

My eyes, wide open, had the run
Of some ten weeds to fix upon;
Among those few, out of the sun,
The woodspurge flowered, three cups in

one.

From perfect grief there need not be
Wisdom or even memory:

One thing then learnt remains to me.-
The woodspurge has a cup of three. 1870.
THE HONEYSUCKLE

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.

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See it here as I hold it up,-
Shaped it is to the heart's desire,
Fit to fill when the gods would sup.
(0 Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
"It was moulded like my breast;
(0 Troy Town!)

He that sees it may not rest,
Rest at all for his heart's desire.
O give ear to my heart's behest!

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(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?

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(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
Of thy heart with the heart's desire:
Say, who brought it then to thy feet?
(0 Troy's down,

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,
And fire lit from the heart's desire;
Laughed and said, "Thy gift hath

grace!"

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