'Love, while you were away there came to me - From whence I cannot tell - A plaintive lady pale and passionless, Who bent her eyes upon me critically, And weighed me with a wearing wistfulness,...
A stranger, I threaded sunken-hearted A lamp-lit crowd; And anon there passed me a soul departed, Who mutely bowed. In my far-off youthful years I had met her,...
"Why do you stand in the dripping rye, Cold-lipped, unconscious, wet to the knee, When there are firesides near?" said I. "I told him I wished him dead," said she.
"This is a brightsome blaze you've lit good friend, to-night!" " Aye, it has been the bleakest spring I have felt for years, And nought compares with cloven logs to keep alight:...
How do you know that the pilgrim track Along the belting zodiac Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds Is traced by now to the Fishes' bounds And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud...
When he lit the candles there, And the light fell on his hand, And it trembled as he scanned Her and me, his vanquished air Hinted that his dream was done, And I saw he had begun To understand....
"These Gothic windows, how they wear me out With cusp and foil, and nothing straight or square, Crude colours, leaden borders roundabout, And fitting in Peter here, and Matthew there! ...
I saw him pass as the new day dawned, Murmuring some musical phrase; Horses were drinking and floundering in the pond, And the tired stars thinned their gaze;...
I travelled to where in her lifetime She'd knelt at morning prayer, To call her up as if there; But she paid no heed to my suing, As though her old haunt could win not...
At midnight, in the room where he lay dead Whom in his life I had never clearly read, I thought if I could peer into that citadel His heart, I should at last know full and well ...
Not a line of her writing have I, Not a thread of her hair, No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby I may picture her there; And in vain do I urge my unsight To conceive my lost prize...
Now that my page upcloses, doomed, maybe, Never to press thy cosy cushions more, Or wake thy ready Yeas as heretofore, Or stir thy gentle vows of faith in me:
I read your name when you were strange to me, Where it stood blazoned bold with many more; I passed it vacantly, and did not see Any great glory in the shape it wore. ...
Did he who drew her in the years ago - Till now conceived creator of her grace - With telescopic sight high natures know, Discern remote in Time's untravelled space ...
Ah, child, thou art but half thy darling mother's; Hers couldst thou wholly be, My light in thee would outglow all in others; She would relive to me. But niggard Nature's trick of birth...
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,...