Anthea, I am going hence With some small stock of innocence; But yet those blessed gates I see Withstanding entrance unto me; To pray for me do thou begin; The porter then will let me in.
If, dear Anthea, my hard fate it be To live some few sad hours after thee, Thy sacred corse with odours I will burn, And with my laurel crown thy golden urn. Then holding up there such religious things...
So looks Anthea, when in bed she lies O'ercome or half betray'd by tiffanies, Like to a twilight, or that simpering dawn That roses show when misted o'er with lawn....
Thou art the belonging blest Of the maid I love the best: Gardened in some tropic grove, Nurtured by the powers above, Was thy wood so rich and rare For her hand so small and fair;...
Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently, And though thy birth-hour beckons thee, Sleep the long sleep: The Doomsters heap Travails and teens around us here,...
The great sun sinks behind the town Through a red mist of Volnay wine.... But what's the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the town? You'll only skip the page, you'll look...
"If you only knew How gladly I've given it All these years - The light of mine eyes, The heat of my lips, Mine agonies, My yearning tears, My blood that drips, My brain that sears:...
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you'd say, Because I'd like to know that you're all right. Tell me, have you found everlasting day, Or been sucked in by everlasting night?...
Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow From the dim fields of Tomorrow; Let her roam there all unheeded, She will come when she is needed; Then, when she draws near thy door, She will find God there before.
All praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed; But 'tis a fruitless task to paint for me, Who, yielding not to changes Time has made, By the habitual light of memory see...
Among my best I put your Book, O Poet of the breeze and brook! (That breeze and brook which blows and falls More soft to those in city walls) Among my best: and keep it still...
Lie Philo untouch'd, on my peaceable shelf, Nor take it amiss that so little I heed thee; I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself: Then why should I answer since first I must read thee?...
I saw thee once, I see thee now; Thy pure young face, thy noble mien, Thy truthful eyes, thy radiant brow; All childlike, lovely, and serene; Rapt in harmonious visions proud,...
Oh, serious eyes! how is it that the light, The burning rays that mine pour into ye, Still find ye cold, and dead, and dark, as night - Oh, lifeless eyes! can ye not answer me?...
Was ever any face like this before, So light a veiling for the soul within, So pure and yet so pitiful for sin? They say the soul will pass the Heavy Door, And yearning upward, learn creation's lore,...