Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or...
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All things uncomely and broken,
all things worn-out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway,
the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman,
splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things
is a wrong too great to be told,
I hunger to build... -
Heart, we will forget him!
You an I, tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.When you have done, pray tell me
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging.
I may remember him! -
Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility. -
One day between the Lip and the Heart
A wordless strife arose,
Which was expertest in the art
His purpose to disclose.The Lip called forth the vassal Tongue,
And made him vouch—a lie!
The slave his servile anthem sung,
And braved the listening sky.The Heart to speak in vain essayed,
Nor could his purpose... -
Thou art lost to me forever!—I have lost thee, Isadore!
Thy head will never rest upon my loyal bosom more;
Thy tender eyes will never more look fondly into mine,
Nor thine arms around me lovingly and trustingly entwine,—
Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!Thou art dead and gone, dear loving wife, thy heart is still and cold,
And mine,... -
The cold blast at the casement beats;
The window-panes are white;
The snow whirls through the empty streets;
It is a dreary night!
Sit down, old friend, the wine-cups wait;
Fill to o’erflowing, fill!
Though winter howleth at the gate,
In our hearts ’t is summer still!For we full many summer joys
And greenwood... -
What can console for a dead world?
We tread on dust which once was life;
To nothingness all things are hurled:
What meaning in a hopeless strife?
Time’s awful storm
Breaks but the form.Whatever comes, whatever goes,
Still throbs the heart whereby we live;
The primal joys still lighten woes,
And time... -
Many things thou hast given me, dear heart;
But one thing thou hast taken: that high dream
Of heaven as of a country that should seem
Beyond all glory that divinest art
Has pictured:—with this I have had to part
Since knowing thee;—how long, love, will the gleam
Of each day’s sunlight on my pathway stream,
Richer than what seemed richest... -
who are ye, spirits, that stand
In the outer gloom,
Each with a blazing heart in hand,
Which lighteth the dark beyond the tomb?“Oh, we be souls that loved
Too well, too well!
Yet, for that love, though sore reproved,
(Oh, sore reproved!) have we ’scaped hell.“’Scaped hell, but gained not heaven....