“forget thee?”—If to dream by night, and muse on thee by day,
If all the worship, deep and wild, a poet’s heart can pay,
If prayers in absence breathed for thee to Heaven’s protecting power,
If wingèd thoughts that flit to thee—a thousand in an hour,
If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot—
If this thou call’st “forgetting,” thou indeed shalt...
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I Must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight—
The thought of thee—and in the blue Heaven’s height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I... -
Such a starved bank of moss
Till, that May morn,
Blue ran the flash across:
Violets were born!Sky—what a scowl of cloud
Till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud:
Splendid, a star!World—how it walled about
Life with disgrace
Till God’s own smile came out;
That was thy... -
From the Swedish by Théophile Julius Henry Marzials
LAST night the nightingale waked me,
Last night when all was still;
It sang in the golden moonlight
From out the woodland hill.
I opened the window gently,
And all was dreamy dew—
And oh! the bird, my darling,
Was singing, singing of you!I think of you in the...
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From “Œlla: A Tragical Interlude”
First Minstrel.THE BUDDING floweret blushes at the light:
The meads are sprinkled with the yellow hue;
In daisied mantles is the mountain dight;
The slim young cowslip bendeth with the dew;
The trees enleafèd, into heaven straught,
When gentle winds do blow, to whistling din are brought.The evening...
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IN summer, when the days were long,
We walked together in the wood:
Our heart was light, our steps were strong;
Sweet flutterings were there in our blood,
In summer, when the days were long.We strayed from morn till evening came;
We gathered flowers, and wove us crowns;
We walked mid poppies red as flame,
Or sat upon... -
Song of Nourmahal in “The Light of the Harem”
“FLY to the desert, fly with me,
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
But oh! the choice what heart can doubt
Of tents with love or thrones without?“Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
The acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less
For flowering in the... -
He sings.I SEND my heart up to thee, all my heart
In this my singing.
For the stars help me, and the sea bears part;
The very night is clinging
Closer to Venice’ streets to leave one space
Above me, whence thy face
May light my joyous heart to thee its dwelling-place.She speaks.Say after me, and try to say
My very words,... -
Here Charmian, take my bracelets:
They bar with a purple stain
My arms; turn over my pillows—
They are hot where I have lain:
Open the lattice wider,
A gauze o’er my bosom throw,
And let me inhale the odors
That over the garden blow.I dreamed I was with my Antony,
And in his arms I lay;
Ah, me! the... -
There are who say the lover’s heart
Is in the loved one’s merged;
O, never by love’s own warm art
So cold a plea was urged!
No!—hearts that love hath crowned or crossed
Love fondly knits together;
But not a thought or hue is lost
That made a part of either.* * * * *
It is an ill-told tale that...