His face is truly of the Roman mould,
He bears within the heart of Cato, too;
Although his look may seem severe and cold,
He never would be false to truth or you.
And deepest feeling hides about the mouth;
His soul-wind blows not always from the north,
But sometimes also from the gentle south,
And then, like flowers, the tender...
Oh, frame some little word for me
None else shall ever hear or see,—
Something my soul can call her own,
When suddenly she feels alone;
Something that she can take away
When God shall draw the veil of clay;
Something that thou wilt know her by
Among the billions of the sky;
Something no other soul will fit
Save hers for...
I do affirm that thou hast saved the race
As much as thou hast ever made it lose:
Men of quick action may thy name abuse,
But the world’s life and theirs attest thy grace.
An hour of thee doth sometimes turn the face
Of men and kingdoms, bidding them refuse
What, chosen last, it had been death to choose:
Through thee alone, they missed...
As dyed in blood the streaming vines appear,
While long and low the wind about them grieves:
The heart of Autumn must have broken here,
And poured its treasure out upon the leaves.
This bears the seal of immortality,
For every soul that reads it feels the search
Of answering thought, and thousands there may be
Saying at once, “How straight that looks at me!”
Nor child nor fool it leaveth in the lurch;
But, like the eyes that mark great Guido’s fame,
It follows every one, as if by name.
I Do affirm that thou hast saved the race
As much as thou hast ever made it lose:
Men of quick action may thy name abuse,
But the world’s life and theirs attest thy grace.
An hour of thee doth sometimes turn the face
Of men and kingdoms, bidding them refuse
What, chosen last, it had been death to choose:
Through thee alone, they missed...
