■7 
 
ONN E T 
 
 FR^Oyvv THE 
 
 rORTVGVE 
 
 BY 
 ELIZABETH BA^^TT 
 
 WITH 
 
 ILLYSTRATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 HAR^AI^T 
 
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THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 COWGRES8, 
 Two Copiee Recsived 
 
 OCT. -8902 
 
 I CruVRiQHT ENTRV 
 
 Cl^ASS «^XXq. No. 
 
 ^ ^ 7 ^ -] 
 
 COPY B. ^ 
 
 A 
 
 v^V*'" 
 
 COPYKIOHT 
 
 DEI 
 BY GfPPV jlTNA^vv'S 
 
 soIns 
 
 > C C C t C ( 
 
ED L- 
 
 THESE 
 
 1 LLVSTI^TIONS 
 
 ARE. 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
Sonnets 
 
 FHP^V THE Po]^VQ\ ESE 
 
I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung 
 Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for 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." 
 
i Love 
 
 f^^^lN EVE1<Y BATTLi: jt"'\(^ 
 VICTOR^ CLOWNED 
 
BUT only three in all God's universe 
 Have heard this word thou hast said, — Himself, beside \i 
 Thee speaking, and me listening ! and replied / 
 
 One of us — that was God, — and laid the curse 
 So darkly on my eyelids as to amerce 
 My sight from seeing thee, — that if I had died. 
 The deathweights, placed there, would have signified 
 Less absolute exclusion. " Nay " is worse 
 From God than from all others, O my friend ! 
 Men could not part us with their worldly jars. 
 Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend 
 Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars, — 
 And, heaven being rolled between us at the end. 
 We should but vow the faster for the stars. 
 
II 
 
 Ji 
 
 UNLIKE are we, unlike, O princely Heart! 
 Unlike our uses and our destinies. 
 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 ply 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. 
 
SOVL 
 GIVEJV 
 
 LONG SINCE HAD 
 ITSEI.F TO DEATH 
 
THOU hast thy calling to some palace floor, 
 Most gracious singer of high poems ! where 
 The dancers will break footing, from the care 
 Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more. 
 And dost thou lift this house's latch too poor 
 For hand of thine? and canst thou think and hear 
 To let thy music drop here unaware 
 In folds of golden fulness at my door? 
 Look up and see the casement broken in, 
 The bats and owlets builders in the roof ! 
 My cricket chirps against thy mandolin. 
 Hush, call no echo up in further proof 
 Of desolation ! there *s a voice within 
 That weeps — as thou must sing — alone, aloof. 
 
V 
 
 I LIFT my heavy heart up solemnly, 
 As once Electra her sepulchral urn, 
 And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn 
 The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see 
 What a great heap of grief lay hid in me, 
 And how the red wild sparkles dimly bum 
 Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn 
 Could tread them out to darkness utterly, 
 It might be well perhaps. But if instead 
 Thou wait beside me for the wind to blow 
 The gray dust up — those laurels on thine head, 
 O my Beloved, will not shield thee so. 
 That none of all the fires shall scorch and shred 
 The hair beneath. Stand farther off then ! go. 
 
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. 
 Without the sense of that which I forbore — 
 Thy 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. 
 
He^ lvte. string ga^^ ak 
 
 ECHO OF HIS NAiVVE 
 
VII 
 
 THE face of all the world is changed, I think, 
 Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul 
 Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole 
 Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink 
 Of obvious death, where I who thought to sink 
 Was caught up into love, and taught the whole 
 Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole 
 God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink. 
 And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear. 
 The name of country, heaven, are changed away 
 For where thou art or shalt be, there or here ; 
 And this— this lute and song — loved yesterday, 
 (The singing angels know) are only dear 
 Because thy name moves right in what they say. 
 
'/^ -. 
 
 KfilP.P VIOLETS FO%/tHK SpRINQ 
 AND LOVf: >./jh'OI<^YOVTH 
 
VIII 
 
 WHAT can I give thee back, O liberal 
 And princely giver, who hast brought the gold 
 And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold, 
 And laid them on the outside of the wall 
 For such as I to take or leave withal. 
 In unexpected largesse? am I cold. 
 Ungrateful, that for these most manifold 
 High gifts, I render nothing back at all? 
 Not so ; not cold, — but very poor instead. 
 Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run 
 The colors from my life, and left so dead 
 And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done 
 To give the same as pillow to thy head. 
 Go farther ! let it serve to trample on. 
 
CAN it be right to give what I can give? 
 To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears 
 As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years 
 Re-sighing on my lips renunciative 
 Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live 
 For all thy adjurations? O my fears, 
 That this can scarce be right ! We are not peers, 
 So to be lovers ; and I own, and grieve, 
 That givers of such gifts as mine are, must 
 Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas ! 
 I will not soil thy purple with my dust. 
 Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass, 
 Nor give thee any love — which were unjust. 
 Beloved, I only love thee ! let it pass. 
 
And while the wheel, of bii\th 
 
 ^ AND death TVRNS ROVND 
 
 iHAT WHICH HATH BEEN /\\ST BE 
 BETWEEN VS TWO 
 
YET, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed 
 And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, 
 Let temple burn, or flax ; an equal light 
 Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed : 
 And love is fire. And when I say at need ^^^.^ 
 / love thee — mark ! — / lore thee — in thy sight 
 I stand transfigured, glorified aright, 
 With conscience of the new rays that proceed 
 Out of my face toward thine. There 's nothing low 
 In love, when love the lowest : meanest creatures 
 Who love God, God accepts while loving so. 
 And what I feel, across the inferior features 
 Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show 
 How that great work of Love enhances Nature's. 
 
AND therefore if to love can be desert, 
 I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale 
 As these you see, and trembling knees that fail 
 To bear the burden of a heavy heart, — 
 This weary minstrel-life that once was girt 
 To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail 
 To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale 
 A melancholy music,— why advert 
 To these things? O Beloved, it is plain 
 I am not of thy worth nor for thy place ! 
 And yet, because I love thee, I obtain 
 From that same love this vindicating grace, 
 To live on still in love, and yet in vain, — 
 To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face. 
 
INDEED this very love which is my boast, 
 And which, when rising up from breast to brow, 
 Doth crown me with a ruby large enow 
 To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost, — 
 This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, 
 I should not love withal, unless that thou 
 Hadst set me an example, shown me how. 
 When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed, 
 And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak 
 Of love even, as a good thing of my own : 
 Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak, 
 And placed it by thee on a golden throne, — 
 And that I love, (O soul, we must be meek ! ) 
 Is by thee only, whom I love alone. 
 
^s 
 
 iHY\vINqS AI^E CROSSED o'e,!^ 
 
 'A\y WINQS A1\E CJ<(0SSED o'ek^ 
 >\INE. EYES 
 
AND wilt thou have me fashion into speech 
 The love I bear thee, finding words enough, 
 And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, 
 Between our faces, to cast light on each ? — 
 I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach 
 My hand to hold my spirit so far off 
 From myself — me — that I should bring thee proof 
 In words, of love hid in me out of reach. 
 Nay, let the silence of my womanhood 
 Commend my woman-love to thy belief, — 
 Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, 
 And rend the garment of my life, in brief, 
 By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude. 
 Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief. 
 
HOSE BLESSED G,LO\\^ 
 TI<.^NSCENDS THE LAWS 
 
 Oetiaveand change 
 
 &^ i^^OI^TAL^IFE <i^ DEATH 
 
"^, 
 
 lY 
 
 I 
 
 P 
 
 F 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. 
 
 >__^,^-a- 
 
I 
 I 
 
ACCUSE me not, beseech thee, that I wear 
 Too calm and sad a face in front of thine ; 
 For we two look two ways, and cannot shine 
 With the same sunlight on our brow and hair. 
 On me thou lookest with no doubting care, 
 As on a bee shut in a crystalline ; 
 Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine, 
 And to spread wing and fly in the outer air 
 Were most impossible failure, if I strove 
 To fail so. But I look on thee — on thee— 
 Beholding, besides love, the end of love, 
 Hearing oblivion beyond memory; 
 As one who sits and gazes from above, 
 Over the rivers to the bitter sea. t 
 
VhATE'ER, I AAV, BE SVRE THAT I 
 AAV THAT 
 
 Which thov hast .m.ade mt. 
 
 NOTHLNG, OF yAVSELF 
 
 1 
 
VI 
 
 AND yet, because thou overcomest so, 
 Because thou art more noble and like a king, 
 Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling 
 Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow 
 Too close against thine heart henceforth to know 
 How it shook when alone. Why, conquering 
 May prove as lordly and complete a thing 
 In lifting upward, as in crushing low! 
 And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword 
 To one who lifts him from the bloody earth, 
 Even so. Beloved, I at last record. 
 Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth, 
 I rise above abasement at the word. 
 Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth. 
 
Re CO IS LA\\FLA.*VAVE OV//l'OJ^SR^i 
 
MY poet, thou canst touch on all the notes 
 God set between his After and Before, 
 And strike up and strike off the general roar 
 Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats 
 In a serene air purely. Antidotes 
 Of medicated music, answering for 
 Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour 
 From thence into their ears. God's will devotes 
 Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine. 
 How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use? 
 A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine 
 Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse? 
 A shade, in which to sing — of palm or pine ? 
 A grave, on which to rest from singing ? Choose. 
 
XVIII < 
 
 ¥ 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 funeral-shears 
 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. 
 
The olive vk^ath h.\th 
 bovnd thy b^ow 
 
THE soul's Rialto hath its merchandise ; 
 I barter curl for curl upon that mart, 
 And from my poet's forehead to my heart 
 Receive this locket which outweighs argosies, — 
 As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes 
 The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart 
 The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart,- 
 The bay-crown's shade, Beloved, I surmise, 
 Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black ! 
 Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath, 
 I tie the shadows safe from gliding back, 
 And lay the gift where nothing hindereth. 
 Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack 
 No natural heat till mine grows cold in death. 
 
BELOVED, my Beloved, when I think 
 That thou wast in the world a year ago, 
 What time I sate alone here in the snow 
 And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink 
 No moment at thy voice, but, link by link, 
 Went counting all my chains as if that so 
 They never could fall off at any blow 
 Struck by thy possible hand, — why, thus I drink 
 Of life's great cup of wonder ! Wonderful, 
 Never to feel thee thrill the day or night 
 With personal act or speech, — nor ever cull 
 Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white 
 Thou sawest growing ! Atheists are as dull. 
 Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight. 
 
XXI 
 
 SAY over again, and yet once over again, 
 That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated 
 Should seem a " cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it, 
 Remember, never to the hill or plain, 
 Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain 
 Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed. 
 Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted 
 By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain 
 Cry, " Speak once more — thou lovest! " Who can fear 
 Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll, 
 Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? 
 Say thou dost love me, love me, love me — toll 
 The silver iterance !-^only minding, Dear, 
 To love me also in silence with thy soul.\ 
 
SoitsejETvEd ^S 
 
 OVEL.Y TO LiyE , AND LIFE. A 
 SVNLIT STI\EAi>V 
 
 Forever, flowing, in a changeless 
 
 PEACH 
 
\ 11 7^EN our two souls stand up erect and strong, 
 
 " ▼ Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, 
 UntU the lengthening wings break into fire 
 At either curved point,— what bitter wrong 
 
 Can the earth do to us, that we should not long 
 
 Be here contented ? Think. In mounting higher, 
 
 The angels would press on us, and aspire 
 
 To drop some golden orb of perfect song 
 
 Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay 
 
 Rather on earth, Beloved,— where the unfit 
 
 Contrarious moods of men recoil away 
 
 And isolate pure spirits, and permit 
 
 A place to stand and love in for a day. 
 
 With darkness and the death-hour rounding it. 
 
Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, 
 Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine? 
 And would the sun for thee more coldly shine 
 Because of grave-damps falling round my head ? 
 I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read 
 Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine — 
 But — so much to thee? Can I pour thy wine 
 While my hands tremble? Then my soul, instead 
 Of dreams of death, resumes life's lower range. 
 Then, love me, Love ! look on me — breathe on me I 
 As brighter ladies do not count it strange, 
 For love, to give up acres and degree, 
 I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange 
 My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee I 
 
LET the world's sharpness like a clasping knife 
 Shut in upon itself and do no harm 
 In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm, 
 And let us hear no sound of human strife 
 After the click of the shutting. Life to life — 
 I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm. 
 And feel as safe as guarded by a charm 
 Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife 
 Are weak to injure. Very whitely still 
 The lilies of our lives may reassure 
 Their blossoms from their roots, accessible 
 Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer; 
 Growing straight, out of man's reach, on the hill. 
 God only, who made us rich, can make us poor. 
 
Long h\a e i sovcht roi\ ^est 
 
 and vnawa^e 
 Behold i find it 
 
A HEAVY heart, Beloved, have I borne 
 From year to year until I saw thy face, 
 And sorrow after sorrow took the place 
 Of all those natural joys as lightly worn 
 As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn 
 By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace 
 Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace 
 Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn 
 My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring 
 And let it drop adown thy calmly great 
 Deep being ! Fast it sinketh, as a thing 
 Which its ovm nature doth precipitate, 
 While thine doth close above it, meditating 
 Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate. 
 
I LIVED with visions for my company 
 Instead of men and women, years ago, 
 And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know 
 A sweeter music than they played to me. 
 But soon their trailing purple was not free 
 Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow, 
 And I myself grew faint and blind below 
 Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come — to be 
 Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts, 
 Their songs, their splendors — better, yet the same, 
 As river-water hallowed into fonts — 
 Met in thee, and from out thee overcame 
 My soul with satisfaction of all wants — 
 Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shameX. 
 
MY own Beloved, who hast lifted me 
 From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, 
 And in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown 
 A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully 
 Shines out again, as all the angels see, 
 Before thy saving kiss ! My own, my own. 
 Who earnest to me when the world was gone, 
 And I who looked for only God, found thee I 
 I find thee : I am safe, and strong, and glad. 
 As one who stands in dewless asphodel, 
 Looks backward on the tedious time he had 
 In the upper life, — so I, with bosom-swell. 
 Make witness here, between the good and bad. 
 That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well. 
 
Sweet i^eco^s , pi^ot^mses 
 
 AS S\>rEE T 
 
XXVIII 
 
 MY letters 1 all dea4 paper, mute and white ! 
 And yet they seem alive and quivering 
 Against my tremulous hands which loose the string 
 And let them drop down on my knee to-night. 
 This said, — he wished to have me in his sight 
 Once, as a friend ; this fixed a day in spring 
 To come and touch my hand — a simple thing, 
 Yet I wept for it ! — this, — the paper's Ught — 
 Said, Dear^ I love tbee / and I sank and quailed 
 As if God's future thtmdered on my past. 
 This said, / am thine — and so its ink has paled 
 With lying at my heart that beat too fast. 
 And this — O Love, thy words have ill availed, 
 If what this said, I dared repeat at last ! 
 
I THINK of thee ! — my thoughts do twine and bud 
 About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, 
 Put out broad leaves, and soon there *s nought to see 
 Except the straggUng green which hides the wood. 
 Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood 
 I will not have my thoughts instead of thee 
 Who art dearer, better ! Rather, instantly 
 Renew thy presence ; as a strong tree should. 
 Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare. 
 And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee, 
 Drop heavily down, — -burst, shattered, everywhere ! 
 Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee 
 And breathe within thy shadow a new air, 
 I do not think of thee — I am too near thee. 
 
a 
 
 I SEE thine image through my tears to-night, 
 And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How 
 Refer the cause?— Beloved, is it thou 
 Or I, who makes me sad ? The acolyte 
 Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite 
 May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow. 
 On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, 
 Perplexed, ud certain, since thou art out of sight, 
 As he, iii his swooning ears, the choir's amen. 
 Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all 
 The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when 
 Too vehement light dilated my ideal. 
 For my soul's eyes? Will that light come again 
 As now these tears come — falling hot and real? 
 
THAT SAVS 
 y 1\ lilCH CAN SAY >VO^E 
 
 Th.\n this RJCH P^\ISZ. ,THAT 
 YOV ALONE. ARE. VOV 
 
THOU comest ! all is said without a word. 
 I sit beneath thy looks, as children do 
 In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through 
 Their happy eyelids from an unaverred 
 Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred 
 In that last doubt ! and yet I cannot rue 
 The sin most, but the occasion— that we two 
 Should for a moment stand unministered 
 By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close, 
 Thou dovelike help ! and, when my fears would rise, 
 With thy broad heart serenely interpose : 
 Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies 
 These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those. 
 Like callow birds left desert to the skies. 
 
YES, call me by my pet-name ! let me hear 
 The name I used to run at, when a child, 
 From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled, 
 To glance up in some face that proved me dear 
 With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear 
 Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled 
 Into the music of Heaven's undefiled, 
 Call me no longer. Silence on the bier, 
 While I call God— call God! — So let thy mouth 
 Be heir to those who are now exanimate. 
 Gather the north flowers to complete the south, 
 And catch the early love up in the late. 
 Yes, call me by that name,— ^and I, in truth. 
 With the same heart, will answer and not wait. 
 
 ci>? 
 
And in his hea^t ^ny heai^t is 
 
 LOCKED 
 
 And in his life ^^y life 
 
u 
 
 WITH the same heart, I said, I '11 answer thee 
 As those, when thou shalt call me by my nam< 
 Lo, the vain promise ! is the same, the same. 
 Perplexed and ruffled by Hfe*s strategy? 
 When called before, I told how hastily 
 I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game, 
 To run and answer with the smile that came 
 At play last moment, and went on with me 
 Through my obedience. When I answer now, 
 I drop a grave thought, break from solitude ; 
 Yet still my heart goes to thee — ponder how — 
 Not as to a single good, but all my good ! 
 Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow 
 That no child's foot could run fast as this blood. 
 
IF I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange 
 And be all to me? Shall I never miss 
 Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss 
 That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, 
 When I look up, to drop on a new range 
 Of walls and floors, another home than this? 
 Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is 
 Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? 
 That *s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, 
 To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove; 
 For grief indeed is love and grief beside. 
 Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. 
 Yet love me — wilt thou? |jt)pen thine heart wide. 
 And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.__} 
 
WHEN we met first and loved, I did not build 
 Upon the event with marble. Could it mean 
 To last, a love set pendulous between 
 Sorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather thrilled, 
 Distrusting every light that seemed to gild 
 The onward path, and feared to overlean 
 A finger even. And though I have grown serene 
 And strong since then, I think that God has willed 
 A still renewable fear — O love, O troth — 
 Lest these enclasped hands should never hold, 
 This mutual kiss drop down between us both 
 As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold. 
 And Love, be false ! if he, to keep one oath, 
 Must lose one joy, by his life's star foretold. 
 
Thy lips sh\ll be .ay delphos 
 
 and shall speak 
 La\v"S to .wy footsteps 
 
<^ 
 
 THE first time that the sun rose on thine oath 
 To love me, I looked forward to the moon 
 To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon 
 And quickly tied to make a lasting troth. 
 Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe ; 
 And, looking on myself, I seemed not one 
 For such man's love !— more like an out-of-tune 
 Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth 
 To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste, 
 Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note. 
 I did not wrong myself so, but I placed 
 A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float 
 *Neath master-hands from instruments defaced, — 
 And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat. 
 
PARDON, oh, pardon, that my soul should make 
 Of that strong divineness which I know 
 For thine and thee, an image only so 
 Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break 
 It is that distant years which did not take 
 Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow, 
 Have forced my swimming brain to undergo 
 Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake 
 Thy purity of likeness and distort 
 Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit 
 As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port, 
 His guardian sea-god to commemorate. 
 Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort 
 And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate. 
 
That wo kj), that kiss 
 
 .SHALL ALL THOVGHTS 
 LLSE. SV^IVE 
 
 % 
 
 <c:'. 
 
^CXVIII 
 
 FIRST time he kissed me, he but only kissed 
 The fingers of this hand wherewith I write ; 
 And ever since, it grew more clean and white, 
 Slow to world-greetings, quick with its " Oh, list," 
 When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst 
 I could not wear here, plainer to my sight 
 Than that first kiss. The second passed in height 
 The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, 
 Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed ! 
 That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown, 
 With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. 
 The third upon my lips was folded down 
 In perfect, purple state ; since when, indeed, 
 I have been proud and said, " My love, my own." 
 
BECAUSE thou hast the power and own'st the grace 
 To look through and behind this mask of me 
 (Against which, years have beat thus blanchingly 
 With their rains), and behold my soul's true face, 
 The dim and dreary witness of life's race,— 
 Because thou hast the faith and love to see, 
 Through that same soul's distracting lethargy, 
 The patient angel waiting for a place 
 In the new Heavens, — because nor sin nor woe. 
 Nor God's infliction, nor death's neighborhood, 
 Nor all which others viewing, turn to go, 
 Nor all which makes me tired of all, self- vie wed, — 
 Nothing repels thee, — Dearest, teach me so 
 To pour out gratitude, as thou dost, good ! 
 
LIFE'S WAY IS THE WIND'S 
 WAY, ALL THESE THINGS 
 BVT B^IEF YOICES BI^EATHED 
 ON SHIFTING STINGS 
 
OH, yes ! they love through all this world of ours 1 
 I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth. 
 I have heard love talked in my early youth, 
 And since, not so long back but that the flowers 
 Then gathered, smell still. Mussulmans and Giaours 
 Throw kerchiefs at a smile, and have no ruth 
 For any weeping. Polypheme's white tooth 
 Slips on the nut if, after frequent showers, 
 The shell is over-smooth ; and not so much 
 Will turn the thing called love, aside to hate 
 Or else to oblivion. But thou art not such 
 A lover, my Beloved ! thou canst wait 
 Through sorrow and sickness, to bring souls to touch, 
 And think it soon when others cry " Too late." 
 
I 
 
 iS.iL=-/ 
 
 I THANK all who have loved me in their hearts, 
 With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all 
 Who paused a little near the prison-wall 
 To hear my music in its louder parts 
 Ere they went onward, each one to the mart's 
 Or temple's occupations, beyond call. 
 But thou, who, in my voice's sink and fall 
 When the sob took it, thy divinest Art's 
 Own instrument didst drop down at thy foot. 
 To hearken what I said between my tears, — 
 Instruct me how to thank thee 1 Oh, to shoot 
 My soul's full meaning into future years. 
 That they should lend it utterance, and salute 
 Love that endures, from Life that disappears! 
 
¥^ OF TOIL ^ QVEST 
 ^A F.^\I5HED PILC^^^I^V 
 
LI 
 
 "T7 
 
 M 
 
 Y future will not copy fair my past — " 
 I wrote that once ; and thinking at my side 
 
 My ministering life-angel justified 
 
 The word by his appealing look upcast 
 
 To the white throne of God, I turned at last, 
 
 And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied 
 
 To angels in thy soul ! Then I, long tried 
 
 By natural ills, received the comfort fast, 
 
 While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff 
 
 Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled. 
 
 I seek no copy now of life's first half : 
 
 Leave here the pages with long musing curled. 
 
 And write me new my future's epigraph, 
 
 New angel mine, unhoped for in the world ! 
 
^^> 
 
 This fair, day s.^iles to see, 
 All those who love — 
 
 AND WHO E'ER^ loved LIKE 
 THEE 
 
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 
 I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
 My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
 For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. 
 I love thee to the level of every day's 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 
 I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; 
 I love thee purely, as men turn from Praise. 
 I love thee with the passion put to use 
 In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 With my lost saints,^ — I love thee with the breath, 
 Smiles, tears, of all my life ! — and, if God choose, 
 I shall but love thee better after death. ; 
 
BELOVED, thou hast brought me many flowers 
 Plucked in the garden, all the summer through 
 And winter, and it seemed as if they grew 
 In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers. 
 So, in the like name of that love of ours, 
 Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too, 
 And which on warm and cold days I withdrew 
 From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers 
 Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue, 
 And wait thy weeding ; yet here 's eglantine, 
 Here 's ivy ! — take them, as I used to do 
 Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. 
 Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true. 
 And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine. 
 
QUOTATIOr^S USED IN THE ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH THE NAMES 
 
 OF THE AUTHORS. 
 
 I. Love is strong as death. 
 
 The Song of Solomon. 
 
 II. O Love, in every battle victor crowned, 
 
 Sophocles. 
 
 III. I love you so, 
 
 That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 IV. My soul long since had given itself to death. 
 
 Sophocles. 
 
 V. Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot, 
 Lest you with me should shiver on the wold. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 VI. My spirit is thine, the better part of me. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 VII. Her lute-string gave an echo of his name. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 VIII. Keep violets for the spring, and love for youth. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 IX. An amaranth glittering on the path of frost. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
X. And while the wheel of birth and death turns round, 
 That which hath been must be between us two. 
 
 Edwin Arnold. 
 
 XI. To be consumed within the purest glow 
 Of one serene and unapproached star. 
 
 XII. O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me 
 Worthy perusal stand against thy sight. 
 
 XIII. My wings are folded o'er mine ears : 
 My wings are crossed o'er mine eyes. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 XIV. Love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws 
 
 Of time and change and mortal life and death. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 XV. I dwell alone, alone, 
 
 Whilst full my river flows down to the sea. 
 
 Christina Rossetti, 
 
 XVI. Whate'er I am, be sure that I am that 
 
 Which thou hast made me — nothing of myself. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 XVII. Regois la flamme ou I'ombre 
 
 De tous mes jours. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 XVIII. I '11 make a garland of her hair 
 
 Shall bind my heart for evermair 
 
 Until the day I die. 
 
 Ballad of Fair Helen. 
 
 XIX. The olive wreath hath bound thy brow, 
 
 Heber. 
 
 XX. Sing, voice of Spring! 
 
 Till 1 too blossom and rejoice and sing. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
XXI, More flowers I noted, yet I none could see 
 But sweet or colour it had stolen from thee. 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 XXII. So it seemed 
 
 Lovely to live, and life a sunlit stream 
 Forever flowing in a changeless peace. 
 
 Edwin Arnold. 
 
 XXIII. With links of love he makes me stay. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 XXIV. Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi, qui pascitur inter lilia. 
 
 The Song of Solomon. 
 
 XXV. Long have I sought for rest, and unaware 
 
 Behold I find it. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 XXVI. Thy presence passed and touched me with a soul. 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 XXVII. Among the deep Elysian asphodels. 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 XXVIII. Sweet records, promises as sweet. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 XXIX. Ascendam in palmam et apprehendam fructus ejus. 
 
 The Song of Solomon. 
 
 XXX. My life a perfumed altar-flame. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 XXXI. Who is it that says most ? which can say more 
 Than this rich praise, that you alone are you ? 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 XXXII. Sweet be the bands the which true love doth tye. 
 
 Spencer. 
 
 XXXTII. Make but my name thy love, and love that still. 
 And then thou lovest me. 
 
 , Shakespeare. 
 
XXXIV. And in his heart my heart is locked 
 And in his Ufa my life. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 XXXV. Surge, propera, arnica mea, columba mea, formosa mea, 
 et veni. 
 
 The Song of Solomon, 
 
 XXXVI. That love is false 
 
 Which clings to love for selfish sweets of love. 
 
 Edwin Arnold. 
 
 XXXVII. Thy lips shall be my Delphos and shall speak 
 Laws to my footsteps. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 XXXVIII. That word, that kiss shall all thoughts else survive. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 XXXIX. And like a flower that cannot all unfold, 
 
 So drenched it is with tempest, to the sun, 
 
 Yet, as it may, turns towards him. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 XL. But life's way is the wind's way, all these things 
 Are cut brief voices breathed on shifting strings. 
 
 Edwin Arnold. 
 
 XLI. Thy voice to me is wind among still woods. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 XLU. After so many years of toil and quest 
 A famished pilgrim, — saved by miracle. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 XLIII. This fair day smiles to see 
 
 All those who love, — and whoe'er loved like thee I 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 XLIV. This song shall be thy rose. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
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