if i were very sure
That all was over betwixt you and me,—
That, while this endless absence I endure
With but one mood, one dream, one misery
Of waiting, you were happier to be free,—
Then I might find again
In cloud and stream and all the winds that blow,
Yea, even in the faces of my fellowmen,
The old companionship;...
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart;
For those may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever;
Keep therefore a true woman’s eye,
And love me still, but know not why.
So hast thou the same reason still
To dote upon me ever.
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 weary witness of life’s race,—
Because thou hast the faith and love to see,
Through that same soul’s distracting lethargy,
The patient...
An antiquated Grace
Becomes that cherished Face
As well as prime
Enjoining us to part
We and our pouting Heart
Good friends with time
WHAT is good-nature? Gen'rous Richmond, tell;
He can declare it best, who best can feel.
Is it a foolish weakness in the breast,
As some who know, or have it not, contest?
Or is it rather not the mighty whole,
Full composition of a virtuous soul?
Is it not virtue's self? A flower so fine,...
Oh what a Grace is this,
What Majesties of Peace,
That having breathed
The fine — ensuing Right
Without Diminuet Proceed!
