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If, in thy second state sublime, Thy ransom’d reason change replies With all the circle of the wise,The perfect flower of human time; And if thou cast thine eyes below, How dimly character’d and slight, How dwarf’d a growth of cold and night,How blanch’d with…
He past; a soul of nobler tone: My spirit loved and loves him yet, Like some poor girl whose heart is setOn one whose rank exceeds her own. He mixing with his proper sphere, She finds the baseness of her lot, Half jealous of…
O Sorrow, wilt thou live with me No casual mistress, but a wife, My bosom-friend and half of life;As I confess it needs must be; O Sorrow, wilt thou rule my blood, Be sometimes lovely like a bride, And put thy harsher moods aside,If thou wilt…
In those sad words I took farewell: Like echoes in sepulchral halls, As drop by drop the water fallsIn vaults and catacombs, they fell; And, falling, idly broke the peace Of hearts that beat from day to day, Half-conscious of their dying clay,And those cold crypts…
Peace; come away: the song of woe Is after all an earthly song: Peace; come away: we do him wrongTo sing so wildly: let us go. Come; let us go: your cheeks are pale; But half my life I leave behind: Methinks my friend is richly shrined;But I…
“So careful of the type?” but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, “A thousand types are gone:I care for nothing, all shall go. “Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the…
The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we haveThe likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems,So careless…
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will,Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy’d, Or cast as rubbish…
How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise,Who wears his manhood hale and green: And dare we to this fancy give, That had the wild oat not been sown, The soil, left…
I cannot love thee as I ought, For love reflects the thing beloved; My words are only words, and movedUpon the topmost froth of thought. “Yet blame not thou thy plaintive ”,” The Spirit of true love replied; “Thou canst not move me from…