LXXIII. ABSENT, YET PRESENT. As the flight of a river My soul rushes ever I am where thou art; The steel it draws to it, Tho' that may be owed- Is that, without wherefore, Thro' granite as breaketh O dream to the griever, I am where thou art; The beat of my heart! Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. LXXIV. Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, And gives the battle to his hands; And strikes him dead for thine and thee. A. Tennyson. LXXV. Oh, why that falling tear? The streams, like polished glass, I will tell a tale to thee Edward Capern. LXXVI. THE NEWLY-WEDDED. Now the rite is duly done; Now the word is spoken; And the spell has made us one Which may ne'er be broken: Rest we, dearest, in our home,Roam we o'er the heather,We shall rest, and we shall roam, Shall we not? together. From this hour the summer rose Best and worst, whate'er they be, We shall share together. Death, who friend from friend can part, Brother rend from brother, Shall but link us, heart and heart, Closer to each other: We will call his anger play, Deem his dart a feather, When we meet him on our way W. M. Praed. LXXVII. THE DEPARTURE. And on her lover's arm she leant, Beyond their utmost purple rim, 66 I'd sleep another hundred years, O love, for such another kiss ;" "O wake for ever, love," she hears, 66 "O love, 'twas such as this and this." And o'er them many a sliding star And many a merry wind was borne, And streamed thro' many a golden bar, The twilight melted into morn. 66 "O eyes long laid in happy sleep!" 66 "O happy sleep, that lightly fled!" "O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!" "O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!" And o'er them many a flowing range Of vapour buoyed the cresent-bark, And, 'rapt thro' many a rosy change, The twilight died into the dark. "A hundred summers! can it be? And whither goest thou, tell me where?" O seek my father's court with me, For there are greater wonders there." A. Tennyson. |