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…n thy strength ; Clothe limbs with lustiness, and mind with might, That, communing with me, though for an hour, Thou mayest conquer when day comes at length.” 20
The moon is up full-orbed : she glides Striking a snaky ray Across the black resounding tides, The sepulchre of day. The moon is up: upon the prow We stand and watch the moon. A star is lustred on your brow ; Your lips begin a tune, A long, low tune of love that swells Little by little, and lights The overarching miracles Of love’s desire, and Night’s. It swells, it rolls to triumph-song Through luminous black skies ; Thrills into silence sharp and strong, Assumes its peace, and dies. There is the night: it covers close The lilies folded fair O…
… her. SIR PERCY. Buy yourself a pretty hat ! Forget my pretty speeches ! Flings his purse down. CARRUTHERS. O Lord Christ ! In one short day — he was a gentleman ! Sir Percival ! Would God I were dead too ! If he had lived — thank God he died ! Sir Percy, Lend me your pistol ; here’s a heart to hit ! Sir Percy descends, after taking farewell of Angela, and appears again on horse- back among his men. SIR PERCY. Arnold and Ritson, tend the wounded man ! To breakfast, gentlemen ! Looks up. Farewell ! ANGELA, waves her handkerchief and throws a kis…
Lonely, o life, art thou when circumstance Occult or open keeps us twain apart! Lamenting through the dreary day there dance Anaemic thoughts; the bruised and bloodless heart Beats as if tired of life, as I am tired Who all these days have never seen your face, Nor touched the body that my soul desired, Nor have inhaled the perfume of the place That you make sweet —- black dogs of doubt and fear Howl at my heels while care plies whip and spur, Driving me down to the dull damned dead sphere Where is no sight or sound or scent of Her Our Lady Dia…
…nim fly ; his troops delight In murder of many a myriad men, Following exultant into fight Sir Palamede the Saracen. Now when a year and day are done Sir Palamedes is aware Of blue pavilions in the sun, And bannerets fluttering in the air. Forward he spurs; his armour gleams; Then on his haunches rears the steed; Above the lordly silk there streams The pennon of Sir Palamede! Aflame, a bridegroom to his spouse, He rides to meet with galliard grace Some scion of his holy house, Or germane to his royal race.
…gray stream Glitter and gleam. The silver wonder Of silent stars, The silent thunder Of sunset’s bars, The crimson flare In the ashes of day, Are everywhere On the secret way: Under the hill The clamouring gnomes, For a moment still In their darkened homes, Hear the deep night,
…gray stream Glitter and gleam. The silver wonder Of silent stars, The silent thunder Of sunset’s bars, The crimson flare In the ashes of day, Are everywhere On the secret way: Under the hill The clamouring gnomes, For a moment still In their darkened homes, Hear the deep night,
…orrupt it will then react and contaminate the former . This is the law of all Form - i.e ., Government - and Reform . The outlaw of to - day was the citizen of yesterday , so the law of to - day will become the crime of to morrow . Man being inherently lazy , and hence conservative , this power is forever reacting on him , and binding him down to a government unsuited to his times , and it is this power that he has chosen to call — the Moral code ; notwithstanding the fact that it is not based in any way on the perceptions he has obtained from …
… range Of Palamede his archer skill. All night he sits, with ardour strange And hope new-fledged. A gambler born Aye thinks the luck one day must change, Though sense and skill he laughs to scorn. So now there rush a thousand rats In sable silence on the corn. They sport their square or shovel hats, A squeaking, tooth-bare brotherhood, Innumerable as summer gnats 43
… range Of Palamede his archer skill. All night he sits, with ardour strange And hope new-fledged. A gambler born Aye thinks the luck one day must change, Though sense and skill he laughs to scorn. So now there rush a thousand rats In sable silence on the corn. They sport their square or shovel hats, A squeaking, tooth-bare brotherhood, Innumerable as summer gnats 43
…ight ? Your shoals a flowery maze ? Your masts are they the grass heads ? Your guns are they the boom Of insects in the marsh beds Where day light wars with gloom ? 123
41 in daydreams, they were exclusively of a normal sexual type. There was no need to create phantasms of a perverse or unrealizable satisfaction. It is important to emphasize this point, because I have always appeared to my contemporaries as a very extraordinary individual obsessed by fantastic passions. But such were not in any way natural to me. The moment the pressure was relieved every touch of the abnormal was shed off instantly. The impulse to write poetry disappeared almost completely at such periods. I had not even any of the ordinary a…
…e White Beard ” with his son’s blood besprinkled, Carve one more gash in the forehead * hate-wrinkled :— So, using little arms, earn one day better ones ; Cutting the small chains,*4 learn soon to unfetter one’s Limbs from the large ones, walk forth and be free '— So much for Browning ! and so much for me! Pray do not ask me where I stand ! “ Who asks, doth err.”** At least demand No folly such as answer means ! ‘“* But if” (you * say) “your spirit weans Itself of milk-and-water pap, And one religion as another O’erleaps itself and falls on the…
…inière ! ) Let our love end as other loves begin, Or, slay me at The Moment, unaware, Or, kiss in mutual death-pang, if you dare— Or one day I will strange you within My heavy hair !
…YSTERIES : A SONNET IN SPRING. CHAINLESS Love, the frost is in my brain, Whose swift desires and swift intelligence Are dull and numb to-day ; because the sense Only responds to the sharp key of pain. O free fair Love, as welcome as the rain On thirsty fallows, come, and let us hence Far where the veil of Summer lies immense, A haze of heat on ocean’s purple plain. O wingless Love, let us away together Where the sure surf rings round the beaten strand, And the sky stands, a dome of flawless weather, And the stars join in one triumphal band, Bec…
… And swore by all the Virgins in the Book She would wed nobody but—Tannhauser. So, like the foolish, doting sire I am, I gave her thirty days to find you. This Must dumb you with astonishment. Tannhauser. Well, no ! The details, unfamiliar ! But the theme I knew. And therefore leaps my bosom up : I rob your verderer of his nag, and ho ! Low the long gallop to Elizabeth ! Wolfram. Lucky and brave. How we all envy you ! Heinrich. Envy ? This day when he comes back to us ! Why, we are lucky too ! We thought you dead ! M 89
…r. The Gods shall fare As the children of Fear In the Fear-God’s Power, And their names disappear As the fall of a flower ! The universe-day (Whereof I am a second) Shall fall away And be no more reckoned; Shall fall into ruin. (Sad garden it grew in! ) Unguessed at, unknown, Beyond them alone, 89
…Soft rain -drops sting . The fields are bare ; the hills , Still barer in the gray , Stand stark , and silence fills The empty , useless day , Silent , save for rain , Dead , save for pain . And the weary , changeless sea With spiritless white foam Lies level as a lea Under the empty dome : No life on sea or earth ; A cold , slow dearth . But the swallows cry in the rain , And a gull that floats on the sea , Cries out and cries out again , In listless monotony . And the wind cries and cries , And never dies . 153
…one tree11 Yclept “Red Cotton Nightcap Country”: How a goldsmith, between the Ravishing Virgin And a leman too rotten to put a purge in, Day by day and hour by hour, In a Browningesque forest of thoughts having lost himself, Expecting a miracle, solemnly tossed himself Off from the top of tower. Moral: don’t spoil such an excellent sport as an Ample estate with a church and a courtesan! “Truth, that’s the gold”12 But don’t worry about it! I, you, or Simpkin13 can get on without it! If life’s task be work and love’s (the soft-lippèd) ease, Death…
…went like death away I wist Its savour faded, nor my soul aware. I turned and went away, away, away, Out of the night that was to me the day, And rode to meet the sun to hide in light The sorrow of the day that was the night. So I rode slowly in the morning gray, And all the meadows with the frost were white. And lo! between the mountains there uprose The winter sun; and all the forest glows, And the frost burns hke fire before my eyes, While the white breeze awoke with slum- berous sighs And stirred the branches of the pine; it knows, t surely…