Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound,
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed!
Life in a Love
More from Poet
-
Nos, vége! s bármily fájó íz is,
úgy fáj-e, mint hivém?
Ejh! jójszakát cseveg a csíz is
már a tornác ivén!A szőlők ifjú rügye pelyhes,
így láttam én ma még,
de holnap mind pattanva kelyhes
- s lásd, minden szín kiég...Drágám, hát ránk is ily...
-
A szürke tenger, a fekete táj: a hold, mint sárga, görbe kés: s az álmukból riadó pici hullámok tüzes gyűrűi, mikor az öbölbe fordulok, és csónakom a parton megáll. Aztán egy mérföld sós homok: három dűlőn túl a tanya: ablak, kopogás, gyors sercegés, kék gyufaláng, mely elenyész, egy nő halk,...
-
From “Paracelsus” I KNEW, I felt, (perception unexpressed, Uncomprehended by our narrow thought, But somehow felt and known in every shift And change in the spirit,—nay, in every pore Of the body, even,)—what God is, what we are, What life is—how God tastes an infinite joy In infinite ways—one...
-
From “Pippa Passes” THE YEAR ’S at the spring, And day ’s at the morn; Morning ’s at seven; The hill-side ’s dew-pearled; The lark ’s on the wing; The snail ’s on the thorn; God ’s in His heaven— All ’s right with the world.
-
Early one winter morn, in such a village as this, Snow-whitened everywhere except the middle road Ice-roughed by track of sledge, there worked by his abode Ivàn Ivànovitch, the carpenter, employed On a huge shipmast trunk; his axe now trimmed and toyed With branch and twig, and now some chop...