I WEPT for love; I trembled on the height
Of ecstasy unprobed and colourless
Of passion. Then there swept a golden net,
Star-knotted, lightning-woven, down from God,
And swathed each moment of my life's delight,
Each holiest memory of heavenlier bliss
And passion-thrilling vision and intense,—
Caught all God's kisses in a sheet of fire,-
Of Sunset's living crimson,-from my life,
And bore them into darkness. See how Death
The Stormcloud learns the Sunlight! See how Love
Warms the stern, ice-bound precipice! See Life
Eternal intercepting Feet of Time
Death dying in the love he bears to Life.
O yearning heart, look inward and above;
Thy losses were God's treasures, and thy pain
His robe of glory. Thus He decks Himself
For thine embrace-thy beatific gaze.
And where thou look'st for abject worm and clay,
And life's last failure in the sightless dust,
There in th' illusive grave's dark mystery
Is all thy uttermost, deep, deathless joy
Earth might not touch, but only kiss her hand
In unavailing, tearful rapture. Love,
I feel thee in the Highest-Crystal sea,
And throne of endless glory, and the wing
Of Seraph, and pure Arch-angelic brow,
All blazoned with thy splendour.
Oh! my Home, My Life, my God: beneath the shades, I come.
BETWIXT mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other;
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
A heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart ;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part :
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself away art present still with me ;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet XLVII.
"I see the moon and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon and God bless me."
LADY MOON, Lady Moon, where are you roving? Over the sea.
Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? "All that love me."
Are you not tired with rolling and never
Resting to sleep?
Why look so pale and so sad, as for ever
Wishing to weep?
"Ask me not this, little child! if you love me,
You are too bold;
I must obey my dear Father above me,
And do as I'm told."
Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving? Over the sea.
Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? "All that love me."
POOR Soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend !
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet CXLVI.
WHEN the dimpled water slippeth,
Full of laughter on its way,
And her wing the wagtail dippeth,
Running by the brink at play;
When the poplar leaves a-tremble,
Turn their edges to the light,
And the far-up clouds resemble
Veils of gauze most clear and white;
And the sunbeams fall and flatter
Woodland moss and branches brown,
And the glossy finches chatter
Up and down, up and down:
Though the heart be not attending,
Having music of her own,
On the grass through meadows wending,
It is sweet to walk alone.
When the falling waters utter
Something mournful on their way, And departing swallows flutter, Taking leave of bank and brae ;
When the chaffinch idly sitteth
With her mate upon the sheaves, And the wistful robin flitteth
Over beds of yellow leaves;
When the clouds, like ghosts that ponder Evil fate, float by and frown,
And the listless wind doth wander
Up and down, up and down :
Though the heart be not attending,
Having sorrows of her own,
Through the fields and fallows wending,
It is sad to walk alone.
As on my bed at dawn I mused and prayed,
I saw my lattice prankt upon the wall,
The flaunting leaves and flitting birds withalA sunny phantom interlaced with shade; "Thanks be to Heaven," in happy mood I said. "What sweeter aid my matins could befall
Than this fair glory from the east hath made?
What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,
To bid us feel and see! we are not free
To say we see not, for the glory comes
Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea;
His lustre pierceth through the midnight glooms,
And at prime hours, behold! he follows me
With golden shadows to my secret rooms."
C. TENNYSON TURNER.
OH, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet For the ripple to run over in its mirth ;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sealark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life's trial, as old Earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you;
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!
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