Collected Works (Vol. I)

ODE TO POESY 115 Sometimes I seem so far—and yet, thy kiss Re-quickens Hope; through ether’s empti- ness Thou guidest me to touch the Hand of Him who Is. Thou hadst a torch to lume my lips to song ; Thou hast a cooler fountain for my thirst, Lest my young love should work thy fame a wrong } So the grape’s veins in purple ardour burst, And opiates in bloomless gardens throng, And Life, a moon, wanes fast ; But to thy garden richer buds belong And hardier flowers, and Love, a death- less sun, Flames eager to the last, And young desires in fleeter revels run, And Life revives, and all the flowers rejoice, Bird and light butterfly have made their choice, Creation hymns its God with an united voice. There is a storm without. The hoary trees Stagger; the foam is angry on the sea: I know the secret mountains are at ease, And in the deepest ice-embroidery Where great men’s spirits linger there is peace. Heed not the unquiet wind! Dawn’s finger shall be raised, its wrath shall cease, The sun shall rouse us whom the tempest lulled, And thy poor poet’s mind For respite by its own deep anguish dulled Shall wake again to watch the cruel day Drift slowly on its chill and. wasted way With but thy smile to inspire some sad melodious lay. From whose rude caverns sweep these gusty wings That shake the steeples as they mock at God? Who reared the stallion wind ? ing flings The billows starward? fire-shod Whose foal- Whose the steeds That sweep throughout the world? What spearman sings The fearful chant of war That fires, and spurs, and maddens all the kings That rule o’er earth, and air, and ocean? Whose hand excites the star To shatter into fiery flakes? No man, No petty god, but One who governs all, Slips the sun’s leash, perceives the sparrow’s fall, . Too high for man to fear, too near for man to call. SONNETS.? TO THE AUTHOR OF THE PHRASE: ‘‘I AM NOT A GENTLEMAN AND I HAVE NO FRIENDS.” I. SELF-DAMNED, the leprous moisture of thy veins Sickens the sunshine, and thine haggard eyes, Bleared with their own corrupting infamies, Glare through the charnel-house of earthly pains, Horrible as already in hell. There reigns The terror of the knowledge of the hes That mock thee; thy death’s double destinies Clutch at the throat that ‘sobs, and chokes, and strains. Self-damned on earth, live out thy tortured days, That men may look upon thy face, and see How vile a thing of woman born may be. Then, we are done with thee; go, go thy ways ' The virulence of these sonnets is excusable when it is known that their aim was to destroy the influence in Cambridge of a man who headed in that University a movement parallel to that which at Oxford was associated with the name of Oscar Wilde. They had their effect.