i hffu^ fcu so:^Gs BY THE AUTHOR. The Logic of Style. 6s. Longmans. Oils and Water-Colours, 5s. Douglas. Bishopspool. 14s. Chapman and Hall. Outlines of English Literature. 3s. John Murray. SONGS OF WILLIAM RENTON T. FISHER UN WIN PATERNOSTER SQUARE MDCCCXCIIl CONTENTS. PAGE A SONG OF MIDSUMMER . . . -I A SONG OK THE JESSAMINE ... 3 A SONG OF THE GOLDEN RIVER . . -5 A. SONG OF THE BRIDE-CHAMBER - • 8 A SONG OF A LOVER . . . .ID A SONG OF DUSK . . - • I I A SONt; OF VIGIL . . . . • Ij A SONG OF THE DEl'THS . . . l6 A SONG OF THE NIGHT . . • -I? A SONG OF SAD HEART ... 20 A SONG OF THE BALCONY . . . -27 SONGS OF THE BELOVED ... 29 A SONG BETWEEN TWO KISSES . . • ^3 A SONG OF ROSY LITS . . . . 3^ A SONG OF KISSES . . . • -37 A SONG OF RESERVE . . . . 4^ A SONG OF ENTREATY • . • -44 A SONG OF LOVE .... 45 A SONG OF FAREWELL . • • -47 A SONG OF THE SEA . . . • 5^ A SONC; OF SYMPATHY . . ■ -57 A SONG OF THREE . . • • 6 1 A .SONG OF THE MILL . . . .62 A SONG OF FOUR .... 64 VI CONTENTS. I'AGE A SONG OF THE HERMITAGE . . -65 CHANSON DE I.A TROP KIEN AIMEE . . 6^ A SONG OF A DAY . . . . .68 A SONG FRO>r Al'AR . . . . 70 A SONG OF THE YOUNG MOON . . • ?! A SONG OF THE DREAMLESS LAND . . 74 A SONG OF A CHRISTMAS ROSE . . -75 A SONG OF IHE LAKE .... 78 A SONG OF THE SANDS . . . -79 CHANSON SANS PAROLES . . . 8 1 A SONG OF A VOICE . . . .82 A SONG TO THE SINGER ... 83 A SONG OF COURAGE . . . .84 A SONG OF RHYMES .... 86 SONGS OF SYMBOLS . . . . .88 SONNE 7'S. A SONG OF DIFFERENTIALS . . . Sg A SONG OF INTEGRALS . . . . QO A SONG OF BEAUTY ... 9I A SONG OF THE ANTIQUE . . . .92 A SONG OF POESY .... 93 A SONG OF THE REVERSE . . . -94 A SONG OF A SONG .... 95 A SONG OF DISCOVERY . . . .96 A SONG OF PASSION .... 97 A SONG OF LIGHT-LOVE . . . .98 A SONG OF DESIRE .... 99 A SONG OF THE EYES .... ICO COXTENTS. vn PAGE A SONG OF PARTS OF SPEECH . . . Id A SONG OF THE OPERA . . . I02 A SONG OF HAND IN HAND . . . I03 A SONG OF CHANGE .... IO4 A SONG OF SELF-POSSESSION . . . I05 A SONG OF HEED .... I06 A SONG OF NAJIES ..... I07 A SONG OF THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT . loS A SONG OF DEFIANCE .... I09 CHANSON DE DEFI . . . . IIO A SONG OF SOLICITUDE . . . .Ill A SONG OF CROSS-PURPOSE . . . 112 A SONG OF PARTING . . . -US A SONG OF BEQUEST . . . . II4 A SONG OF COMPARISON . . . -US A SONG OF REVERSION . . . I16 A SONG OF THE SOUTH-WEST WIND . -117 A SONG OF THE VINTAGE . . . I18 A SONG OF THE WARDROBE . . . II9 A SONG OF THE BEDCHAMBER . . I20 A SONG TO BEDWARD . . . .121 A SONG OF SOLITUDE .... 122 SONGS OF THE EARLY DEAD . . . I23 A SONG OF INTERSPACE . . . 1 28 ROUNDELS AND BALLADS. A SONG OF SONGS . . . . . 129 SONGS OF SONG. . . . . 130 A SONG OF A SMILE . . . -134 vm CONTENTS. I'AGE SONGS OF A PORTRAIT . . . -135 A SONG OF DEVOTION . . . . I37 A SONG OF LENT . . . . • IjS SONGS OF ENVOI . . . -139 SONGS OF ABSENCE . . . . . I4I A SONG OF WELCOME .... I43 A SONG OF RETURN. .... I44 CHANSON DU BAISER PERDU . . I45 SONGS OF THE NEST . . . . I46 A SONG OF SWEET LIPS . . . 1 48 SONGS OF THE ROSE . . -149 A SONG OF BEATING HEART . . . 1 53 SONGS OF THE STARLIGHT . . . -154 A SONG OF PARDON . . . 1 56 A SONG AT BEST . . . . -157 A SONG OF DREAMLAND . . . 158 A SONG OF UNREQUITAL .... 159 A SONG OF THE VANISHED . . . 160 SONGS OF DESOLATION . . . . 161 A SONG OF TRUTH .... 166 SONGS OF THE POETS . . . . 167 A SONG FOR BRF;AKFAST . . . 171 A SONG IN DUDGEON . . . . I72 A SONG OF SCORN . . . -173 A SONG FOR MY DARLING . . . -175 A SONG OF DAYDREAM . . . 1 77 A SONG OF THE DANCE . . . -179 A SONG OF THE VINEYARD . . . iSl A SONG OF YES AND NO . . . . 183 A SONG OF MIDSUMMER. T T is summer in the skies, Very noontide of Cathay ; If you fear it for your eyes, There are haycocks in the hay : Come and watch the butterflies, Come away. Ah what odours in the heat Float from field and porch and spray ! Stars of jasmine for your feet, White and scented as the May, Fall around the garden seat : Come away. Butterflies of Avhite divine Fan the odours, faint as they, From the sleeping jessamine ; Be their darling for to-day. Be their sweet, as thou art mine Come away. I A SONG OF MinSUMMEK. There shall be no marvel there, But a girl with eyes astray In a bower of jasmine fair, And a boy beside her gay Weaving jasmine in her hair : Come away. We shall hear the river pour. Waking with its idle lay All the windings of the shore ; We shall think we hear it say Nevermore and Evermore : Come away. As upon a gateway steep Children swing themselves in play, We will swing upon the deep Soothing sense of holiday ; We will sing ourselves to sleep : Come away. A SONG OF THE JESSAiMINE. T/^ISS and cling, kiss and cling Close to me, Darling, to-night ; Clasp and cling, clasp and cling, Warm in the pale moonlight ; Bound to me here with a golden ring. Turn to the silent moon and sinsr Under the jessamine white : Bright as the jessamine^ tight as the jessamine hloivs. Rich and rife, rich and rife, Here by the red rose in flower, Rare and rife, rare and rife Blossoms our jessamine bower ; Jessamine hues with the rose at strife. All for the love of the perfect wife, Mine at this perfect hour : Mine with the jessamine^ mine and mine with the rose. 3 A SO KG OF THE yESSAMIKE. Passing sweet, passing sweet Under the white moonshine, Kisses sweet, kisses sweet Gives me my darUng mine, Fleet as the jessamine scents are fleet ; I will fall down and kiss her feet. Her kisses are better than wine : Kisses no red rose^ kisses no jessamine knoivs. A SONG OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. y^O the Golden River : The dream leads By silver brakes and saffron meads ; Nor sun, nor any moon, nor sense Of shade, nor any need of shade ; Only a mystic influence. That like a rolling music speeds The wayfarer from glade to glade. To the Golden River : No sign to tell What pathway leads from dell to dell ; Each sees a glory all his own In following, and of all the host Each seems unto himself foremost. For all arc under golden spell, Each deems, himself to move alone. 6 A SONG OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. To the Golden River : Do they know To what a clime indeed they go, Who wander under goodly skies Within the golden afterglow, The spirit risen in their eyes, And on their moving lips the soul, And on their brow the aureole ? To the Golden River : Some have told A golden river runs of old, A river of hope and golden dream. And golden shadows in the stream. And golden eddies in the gold, And breaks on many a golden shoal ; The river runs from pole to pole. To the Golden River : The land lies Beyond the sunset, they surmise ; For when the afterglow is dead They hope to find the journey done, Nor ever more to see the sun, Nor any flush of evening-red. Nor any rainbow at sunrise. A SO.VG OF THE GOLDEN RirSR. 7 To the Golden River : Hand in hand With their own day-dreams, through the land They wander on and on for ever To glamour and the golden sand, To voices in the golden weeds. And, lettered on the golden reeds, The legend of the Golden River. A SONG OF THE BRIDE-CHAMBER. 'T^HEY come from under orange bowers, Whose voices hush across the land ; They stand together hand in hand : It is the time of orange flowers. The wind blows softly from a south Of orange gardens by the stream ; He comes as from a perfumed dream, An orange blossom in his mouth. She finds him sweet, she speaks him fair, The all-expected wedding guest, Who showers the favours from his breast In orange blossoms on her hair. He shakes them down to brim the tide When kisses fall from mouth to mouth, Like orchard blossoms in the south Upon the river far and wide. A SONG OF THE BRIDE-CHAMBER. \ And SO they loosen from the land : The boat glides under festal showers, As heaven might fall in orange flowers : And sail for ever hand in hand. A SONG OF A LOVER. 'T^ALL Fair and Sweet : what would you ■^ more than this ? He risks but loss that would have more than all, And, niggard fool, doth find it his amiss Who finds her less than Fair and Sweet and Tall. Fair Sweet and Tall : who that hath seen her pass At morning like a garden through the air But finds her very image in the glass A foil to her for Sweet and Tall and Fair ? Sweet Tall and Fair : he that did spite her nigh For favour of some passing counterfeit Now sees t'was 5//c, and in despite would die To find her here so Tall and Fair and Sweet. A SONG OF DUSK. T)ALE sweet Face on the path by the wood in the twihght, Impalpable Face under the pale sweet skies, Lit with the one star hung between low light and high light, Lit with the glamour of languid inefifable eyes. Shadowy Form, half hid from the eyes that would scan it, Hid from the night in the light of its mystic grace, Mounting with stately steps and slow, like the planet That loves and burns in the deeps of the twilit space. A SONG OF DUSK. Into the light from the dark, from the love and the lover, Hand thrust to my lips, eyes looking light upon mine. Eyes dark in the light that closes around and above her, Light that is dark in the light of her eyes divine. Into the dark from the light I go where I found her, My soul with the flame of her presence athirst and astir ; And the night is a dream and a glory above and around her. And the paths of the wood, though she speaks not, are filled with the music of her. A SONG OF VIGIL. T7ROM the garden your orchard encloses^ By the fountain across the lawn, I have watched all night with the roses, And the breeze is awake with the fawn ; In the dream where thy spirit reposes Is it dawn with thee, Sweet, is it dawn ? You leaned last night from the casement, We kissed and we said adieu ; The moon drew back in amazement, And I ask myself still, Is it trvie ? And I watch and I walk by the basement And am dreaming and dreaming of you. With fingers soft as a shed rose You pressed my fingers light, And I kissed your lips of the red rose, I kissed your eyes of the white ; Is your promise dead as the dead rose. Or will you come back to-night ? 13 14 A SONG OF VIGIL. O night and O frosts that harden And chill the importunate blood, Shall I ask my Lady to pardon A trespass herself has made good ? The bird that is bid to the garden Should scarce take wing to the wood. And the night like a dream in its might rose, And the stars were asleep saving three, And the moon went down as the night rose, And the wind murmured faint from the sea ; The red rose slept with the white rose, And T thought. Would she wake with me ? Ah hope, thou swallow in Maytime, Thy wings are too eager for flight ; If we bring thee a whip in thy playtime Thou wilt scourge and scorn us outright ; And love is a child in the daytime If he grows to a giant at night. A SOyC OF VIGIL. 15 So, Sweet, it is well my heart still is As a fruit in your garden that grows, To pluck or to leave as your will is. As a flower to open or close, Whether fasting all night with the lilies Or feasting at dawn with the rose. Can the dove you have fed with caresses But return to be fed and caressed ? The falcon, inured to your jesses. How should he fly back to the nest ? O be svire who hath fingered your tresses Will long to lay hand on your breast. Take counsel, Love, ere thou repliest. Lest the morning be pledge for the night ; It is Avell for hope at his nighest That his features are hidden from sight ; But say, what is love at the highest. If this be love at the height ? A SONG OF THE DEPTHS. T~\EEP calls to deep within these eyes of thine, The solemn silence of two nights that keep A day between them ; and, as in a shrine Where tapers burn and mystic odours weep. Mine eyes, their priests and worshippers, incline Their light before them, and deep calls to deep. Still bend on me that dark and light divine, Till night shall call to night, and sleep to sleep ; And in thy dreams mixed with these dreams of mine Deep answers deep. i6 A SONG OF THE NIGHT. (TWEET ah sweet in her white-rose bower, Warm as the brood in the ringdove's nest, Hushed Hke the bee in the rose's breast Hid for his hour : Sweet in her arms in the moonless air To Hsten and dream of the long caress That never comes but to heal and bless, Kissing her hair ; One hand laid on the tender wrist, As a yellow rose on a rose of Avhite, Light as a kiss on the fingers light Fain to be kissed ; 2 »7 l8 A SONG OF THE NIGHT. One, caressing the curl that blows Vague as a tendril of the vine, Veiling the flame of her cheek from mine Roseleaf by rose. One red rose in that white rose land Never a bee may come nigh to kiss. Never a lip touch, sweet as it is, Never a hand. One sweet thirst in the flower's deep heart Will never be stilled or stirred by me : Thy perfume, what availeth it thee. Musk rose that art ? What of the night, Love ? Ask of the night ; What should it know of the hope that is born. The fear that is dead, what of anger, of scorn, What of delight ? A SONG OF THE NIGHT. 1 9 Kiss me, Child, ere the night grows cold ; Lest we weary here, playing a part, Feeding for ever upon the heart Of a love grown old. What is love's watchword ? Answer, de- light ; What should he know of the fear that is born, , The hope that is dead, of the noon, of the morn, What of the night ? Press me once more upon eyes and heart. The stars are dim and the night is old ; Thy kiss is warm, if thy lips are cold. Take hands and part. A SONG OF SAD HEART. /^OOD night, Sad Heart, good night. ^-^ Strange welcome we have had, That makes the heart so sad Which was so light. The moon sets calm as fate : A young and tender moon Like thee, who went so soon And came so late. Sweet, what has come between ? Why is our summer turned To frost, our sunset burned From red to green ? Was it a stolen delight ? Was it a whispered fear ? Why are we wretched here, We two, to-night ? A SO.VG OF SAD HEART. 21 Wh}- this pale face of care ? No snowdrop and no snow Hath anything to show So pure, so fair. Time has not such another, My Hly in the green. That unto me hast been Sister to brother. I know it, I, thy friend : No sister is Hke thee, My Sister, nor will be World without end. O sad sweet Heart and sore, I read it in thine e3''es. The one word born of sighs, The Nevermore. You do not need to speak : I see the night's eclipse In the cold eyes, the lips. And the cold cheek. 22 A SOA'G OF SAD HEART. Is that the foot I kissed That is so strange to-day ? Is that the hand that lay In mine, the wrist ? Is that the face so white That was so warm at dusk, The Hps that were hke musk But yesternight ? How I did drink my fill At these full e3"es and life ! Thy very finger-tips Are on me still. How I did bathe my cheek In the warm bath of thine ! Our kisses burned like wine ; We did not speak ; But each in each did rest, Tranced for that hour apart, Breast beating against heart, Heart against breast. A SOXG OF SAD HEART. 23 You sat upon my knee, Do you remember now ? Your hair against my brow ; From you to me It was one interchange Of kisses : kisses mild And sweet, and kisses wild And sweet and strange ; When lips for very bliss Yearned till the lips beneath Parted and left the teeth Alone to kiss. Ah I remember well The softness of your feet, How sweet your lips, how sweet Your hair to smell. And this, is this the end ? Must Love's own hand unweave Love's silken web, and leave Only the Friend ? 24 A SOA'G OF SAD HEART. O surely, Sweet, full soon There will be end of night, We shall find fairer light, A fuller moon. That it should come to this ! To have no heart to tell Our love, who loved so well, Scarce even to kiss. And so I take your hand ; Time flies, our lips are shut. We scarce can speak it, but We understand. This is no time for love. One kiss ! You must not stand To speak. What a cold hand ! Where is your glove ? See, all my head is bare Before you, as your calm Clear voice rings like a psalm In the chill air : A SO.VG OF SAD HEART. 2$. " Yes, we can always write, And take hands now and then. And kiss, but not again As yesternight." Yes, yes, my Child. Run, run ! I should — the night is late — Have seen you to the gate, But now not one Of the old ways may be : He that has done with heaven Has done with earth, and even With courtes}'. 1 that had been thy path To walk on, died to be Pressed by the foot of thee, Must now in wrath Turn from thee, like a hound Bidden go home. Ah well. How near to heaven is hell. The world how round ! 26 A SONG OF SAD HEART. Here on this very spot We parted nine weeks since. Great Heaven ! nine weeks hence Is all forgot ? Here on this very walk — O fool why not let be Thy bliss, thy misery ? Why talk, why talk? Truce to thy vanity ! Shall Time travail in pain. Change kingdoms, yet remain The same to thee ? Well, well, I shall not weep. For all my heart is chill As thine, dear Love ; I will Go home and sleep. And so my Life, my Light, My Spirit and Soul that art, My own sweet sad Sweetheart, Once more, good night. A SONG OF THE BALCONY TT ERE by your balcony I stand, Once more, once more, my vSweet, And close vipon the plighted land Where moon and ivy greet ; For here one night you kissed my hand, And here I kissed your feet. The dawn, her starry chariots manned. With all her coursers fleet. Drives down toward the silver strand Where earth and ocean meet. To stay the pressure of your hand, The imprint of your feet. Earth's million million tongues command, Her million eyes entreat The rocket, soaring like a brand To shower in golden sleet. To rise once more to kiss your hand, And, falling, kiss your feet. 27 28 A SONG OF THE BALCONY. Each organ by fair fingers spanned In every mystic beat Gives out, what all yon glorious band Upon the pane repeat, The music of your heavenly hand, The music of your feet. The hourglass in her garb of sand Falling half incomplete Recalls the scene, by moonlight scanned, When with a touch discreet The robe from your unrobing hand Falls on your still robed feet. O from what moonset of what land Where night and morning greet Will you come back once more, and stand Once more beside me, Sweet, And here again I kiss your hand And here again your feet ? SONGS OF THE BELOVED. /^~\XE kiss I give my Sweet ^^ On each of her white feet, One for her forehead meet, And one on either eye ; One for her smile to keep, And two when she doth weep. And three when she would sleep For lullaby. Ten for her fingertips, Three for her dimple-dips. Two for her pouted lips. And one for every sigh ; One for each word she saith. One for her sweeter breath, And one more sweet than death, Lest she should die. 29 SOA'GS OF THE BELOVED. II. O I will love you, love you, love you ; And you will love me, will you not, my Sweet, A little, little ? Ah if you loved me Only a little, life would be complete. Ah let me love and pet you, pet you, Kiss all your face and neck, my Sweet, my Sweet ; O come to me and let me kiss you. Pet you all over you from head to feet. Ah I can only when I kiss you Tell you how I do love you, thus com- plete. Ah Sweetest, only when I pet you Why I do love you, all from head to feet. SONGS OF THE BELOVED. 3 1 III. " Kiss my eyes, Love, if you love them." And the truth in me replies Through my lips, as I do prove them Only true upon thine eyes. Ah those gold-green orbs, whose heaven Far outshines the sunset skies ; In whose deeps, as in a haven, All my soul at anchor lies ! Thus I kiss them. Nor in laughter Nor in smile the answer flies : Still the suppliant sense sighs after, "If you love them, kiss my eyes." 32 SOJVGS OF THE BELOVED. IV. One more song of the Beloved On her eyes and hps I write, Lest my lips go home reproved Of her eyes to-night. Upon loving lips I leave it, Dewy from the lips above ; Let beloved eyes receive it From the lips they love. Love's own meaning lips can only On the lips of love indite ; Eyes late kissed are never lonely Waking in the night. So that both sleep unreproved Take from off my lips this long One last kiss of the Beloved, Sweetest, one more song. A SONG BETWEEN TWO KISSES. TF all kiss be sweet as this is, And thy songs as well do please, If indeed thy songs be kisses Sing me these. If all lips were sweet as thine are Who with kiss and song for choice But would find the lip diviner Than the voice ? Sweet as kiss is song, but fleeter, And who kisses sweet and long- But doth find the kisses sweeter Than the song ? When the voice is mute 'tis meet lips Should with lips arise and greet : Song begets not song, but sweet lips Wed with sweet. ^ 33 34 ^ SO.VG BETWEEN TWO KISSES. Song intestate dies, nor merits Honour for an empty name, But the kiss bequeathed inherits From the same. So thy songs be kisses, ring me Changes on the constant theme Such as poets use and sing me Songs of dream ; Songs of night, and day her debtor. Songs of labour's shadow, rest. Songs of good, and songs of better, Songs of best ; Songs of sweet that lurks in sorrow. Songs of earnest wrapt in play. Songs of time that veils to-morrow From to-day ; Songs of music and of laughter. Songs of smile for eyes that weep. Songs of vigil, and thereafter Songs of sleep ; A SOXCr BETWEEN TWO KISSES. 35 Songs of pledge and songs of pardon Sung by dawn to waking flowers, Songs of greenwood to the garden After showers ; Songs of kisses, songs unmoved Heard by fancy fancy-free. Songs of love, and the Beloved, Songs of thee ; Songs of song that like an ember Fades from out thy failing breath. Song such as one may remember Even in death. A SONG OF ROSY LIPS. IV T YMPH, whose rosy lips beguiling Greet my kisses still with smiling, Whence this frugal mind ? Say when kisses are so plenty Why not answer one in twenty, Paying back in kind ? Sweet, I love your smiles, believe me. But for every one you give me Give me kisses ten ; Match me still my laugh with laughter, Smile, but let the kiss come after Ere you smile again. A SONG OF KISSES. /~^OME and speak to me, child Kitty, ^^ Come and sit upon my knee ; Head upon my bosom, Pretty, Pressed as lightly as may be. Whisper me and tell me this, Kitty, how does Kitty kiss ? Kitty kisses not as others Cold and slow but quick and kind ; Every kiss that follows smothers Every one it left behind ; And the last of that full score Tastes of all that went before. Kitty's kisses come like shadows Rippling over wind-swept corn, Like the showers on April meadows Falling ere the cloud is born, Like the flowers upon the hill. Springing how and where they will. 38 A SONG OF A'/SSES. Kitty has a nape and slender, Shadowed by her amber hair, And I make my soul's surrender While I kiss the shadow there. Shadow of the amber grape Mantling on her velvet nape. Kitty has a chin and pretty, Cool white chin as ever rose From a warm white throat, that Kitty Guards from kisses very close, But when asked upon my knees Lets me kiss it as I please. Why does Kitty let me kiss her ? She has never told me why. If she went, she knows I'd miss her I can see it in the shy Glance, and kisses springing thick ; Kiss me, Kitty, to the quick. Why do I like to kiss Kitty ? Ah that is another tale ; A SONG OF KISSES. 39 Should the night-jar not in pity Answer to the nightingale ? Does the linnet cease to sing When the lark is on the wing ? How would Kitty that I kissed her ? Even as I kissed her last : Sister kisses following sister, Not too deep nor yet too fast, Silent, tender, sweet and kind, Soft as light and warm as wind. Best, to tell a simple story. She would be kissed through her hair, Where it frames a golden glory For her forehead, like a fair Young moon risen in the mist : That's how Kitty would be kissed. Kitty, let me be your pretty. Come and sit upon your knee. Let me play at being Kitty, Kitty play at being me ; When I kiss you then, 'tis true, It is you that kisses you. 40 A SONG OF KISSES. So would I sit still and give you Kisses without stint or check, Make you honeycomb and hive you Jasmine kisses in your neck, Jonquil for your eyelids close, For each dainty ear wild-rose. For your throat a kiss of apph, For your chin a kiss of pear ; For your riband autumn-maple Kisses, mixed with maidenhair ; For the full cheeks each by each Kisses nectarine and peach. Cream-white kiss for arm and shoulder- Creamier white were never kissed — Milk-white kisses for the colder Milken white of hand and wrist ; Ivory for the slender feet Folded in a kiss complete. Amber kisses for the twilit Forehead meshed in amber hair ; Violet kisses for each violet Velvet vein that mantles there ; A SONG OF KISSES. 4 1 Crimson for the lip that sighs, Sea-bhie for the sapphire eyes. For the ej'ebrows kiss brocaded, For the eyelash kisses fringed ; For the tresses kisses braided, For the ringlets crimped and cringed ; Smocked for dimples, and the while Puckered into every smile. Such at sixteen are the pretty Flights we fancy, she and I. As is kissing, so is Kitty, Sweetest when none else is by, And most sweet in that she will Keep all kisses secret still. A SONG OF RESERVE. /^"^OME sup upon my brows to-night, ^^ Thy hunger else forsworn, But do not surfeit on their white. Lest thou shouldst thirst at morn. The kiss that leaves the lips forbid Taints all that do remain ; Taste, taste the smooth of either lid, But leave the purple vein. As bees that murmur while they sip And kissing leave no sting, Cool, cool thy thirst on either lip. But do not drain the spring. Kiss on the lips, but not between. And shun each dimple still, The fairest prospect to be seen Is ever on the hill. 42 A SONG OF RESERVE. 43 Take, take away those lips of red, They do but hunger mine, But give me back thy brows for bread. Myself will bring the wine. Here from my lips thine own shall learn How lightly Love can feed, That from Desire is to discern As flower is from weed : Love then most sweet when he is coy, As is a maid in bed. Desire that is a wanton boy. And eke a beggar bred : Love's vine that pruned still grows higher^ A curtain for thy need, But like a poppy young Desire That straightway runs to seed. And if thou read'st my thought aright That still pursues the theme, Sleep not within mine arms to-night But only in my dream. A SONG OF ENTREATY. /^ KISS me not for kisses' sake, ^■^^ Nor for the moon's alone, But let the moonlight kiss the lake And kiss me for mine own. Ah not that fever kiss, that slips Like lightning from the skies. But that which lingers from the lips Like light upon the eyes. As roseleaf falling in the dusk Should lip on eyelids light. The kiss that mingles with the musk The savour of the white. That thou wilt find them sweet to woo As any rose in bed, I wager here these eyes of blue Against those lips of red. 4+ A SONG OF LOVE. A H why should eyes for hps' espial "^^ Unguarded answer bliss for bliss, Till envy ends his armistice And lips like eyes take no denial ? Like to the sunbeam on the dial That leaves no print of hit or miss, True love doth make mistakes on trial, But pays each forfeit with a kiss. Ah why doth moonshine, that discovers The tricks and trades that ply by night, Set all her beacon-fires afright About the fairyland of lovers ? If not that love, the cloud that hovers To screen the lips of young delight, Should spread his pinion like the plover's To lure her on to her despite. 45 46 A SONG OF LOVE. Ah why should lips in rapture meeting, Their famine turned to plenty, prey. And sweetness turned to surfeit, stay. For kisses kisses still entreating ? Love, growing boy, must still be eating. And fill his satchel while he may ; He bakes them in the moonlight. Sweeting, For feasting at the peep of day. A 'SONG OF FAREWELL. O WEET heart, our journey ends. We part good friends, Who met in kindly wise, but did not know Of kindlier in that night of sweet mis- chance And snow. I scarcely loved you then ; You know we scarcely knew each other when We came from France. To me you seemed a slip of dawn L'pon the snow, But shy as any fawn That ever fed upon a forest lawn Of Fontaincbleau, Or ran In Michigan. 48 A SONG OF FAREWELL. I said within m3'self, " Her heart Is stolen : it is with the bees That make a noise among the western trees ; I have no part In these." Yes, it is with the prairie breeze That wafts his kisses upon mouth and eyes, And children steahng out upon her with surprise To kneel upon her knees, And play about her as in mountain- brooks the showers, Or yellow butterflies among the yellow flowers. She comes from out a riper spring than theirs ; She knows the summer and the failing rains ; And if a weary heart complains She takes him to her, and she wears His sorrow for her sorrow, till he sees it and refrains From grieving, lest he grieve the love she bears. A SOXG OF FAREWELL. 49 She is not all in Italy nor yet among the bees, The homelight and her darling faces ; She stands like one at sundown in strange reedy places. And looking simward, westward o'er the leas. Strange faces westward ! cherubs in the sun, And flaming images ! But if among the sedge and tangled growth She finds a weary bird, she is not loath To stoop and take it in her hands — The light still strong within her eyes from other lands — And, maimed, to lay it in her bosom, for she understands ; She has a heart for both. Dear Love, you have been with me in the dusk Of grey cathedrals ; standing there. We have outfaced the blazon and the glare Of crimson Avindow, and the musk Of scattering censers, and the blare Of quaking organ, while the stream-light broke, 50 A SOA'G OF FAREWELL. And fed on every martyred lip the prayer that stole, And lit on every head the aureole ; Or lingering shadow, falling, quenched the whole, And waves of deep sound, rolling sheer From pier to pier. Through twilight into twilight rose, from gloom to gloom And fell, a 'gathering silence, in the doom Of music felt but heard not, unexpressed for fear. We two have wandered down the length Of chambers sacred with the life And solemn with the colour-strength Of those in subtle guise Who saw the world within the world of the eyes. The gloom, the^ majesty, the glow — The strife Of Tintoret, Titian the wise. And Fra Angelico. Yet though for me Within this Italy of ours A SOXG OF FAREWELL. 5 1 There are three cities and but three, Rome of the towers, And breezy Florence called of flowers, And Venice of the sea, I should not choose to have you there, But out from these, no matter where, And in or out of broad sunshine, So you should sit by me, your hand in mine. The day should be a livelong day As on the May When, we two sitting hand in hand, Our feet were guided through the land. The curtain fluttered in its place. The wind was warm upon your face. And red the morning poppy blew, The vetches out upon us flew Among the youngling corn and grew Before us. For all you had a mind. The cattle drifting far behind. The hedges, wild-flowers, and the wind. I loved you then. And better than in any other kind And pride of circumstance ; And you, I think you did not love me less than when We came from France, Venice. 1876. F A SONG OF THE SEA. AR above the water's gleaming When the sun shines on the bay, Where even the sea-birds hush their screaming, Overborne by the wind and blown away, There it stands, a battered bower : It is called Our Lady's Tower. There are nobler forts in life Than this ruin in mid-air ; But none that fronts so dauntlessly the seas. And rubbing shoulders with the breeze. If the wind were King of Fife And Maid Marion were there, All her hair about her blown, The wind would take it for his throne ; He would come when flowers are rife And take Maid Marion to wife. Ah the wind has many a dove In the secrets of the cliff : He is but a light-of-love. Gazing seaward on the skiflF, 52 A SONG OF THE SEA. 53 All her throat and forehead bare Where he kissed her, She he wins not mounts the stair Far above the waters' springing. See her swing her hat in singing ! Till her playmate and her sister Comes upon her, and they fall To swaying hands for very light of heart, And stand on tiptoe while they call To the sail that skims apart. It is noontide at the hour When this old dismantled keep Looks toward its sister tower Across the sand-dunes and the deep. The long long ripple slowly swells At flood the shingle and the shells. There are two maidens on a reef, And stepping to and fro upon the ledge ; One falters, and the other reaches out the hand. The tower of the seaward edge Looks to the tower oversands ; It cannot come to her relief : They gleam in alien pools and gloom on converse lands. They cannot meet, these two, nor greet, nor understand. 54 ^ SOKG OF THE SEA. It is ebb : the sea has left the land ; There are footprints on the strand. There are tender feet Toiling in the heaps of shifting sand. The wind blows it in a screed Of whirling, whisking blinding sleet. They make headway : see them down once more By the shoals of salt seaweed. Ah what laughter ! with what peals Of thunder crackling at the heels ! Ebbward ! down among the dulse ; There to see the waters pulse ; There to see the seaweed dress Her tresses in the sea's caress ; One may come on star-fish, two and three, Stark and dreaming of the deep ; By the lone sea-pools will sleep The blood-red of the sea-anemone ; And there is evermore the Sea ! The limpid, liquid, lazy, lisping Sea, The angry, hungry, thundering, boiling, brawling Sea, The dead and dread and drear and melan- choly Sea. I do not see the faces by moonlight, They only seem to come in waking day. A SONG OF THE SEA. 55 The moon shines where I sit and write ; I think to sleep . . , the moon comes white, And so . . . and so , . . the still hours slip away : We sit together far into the night. But thus it is that when from here I wish to trace the figures clear, I turn toward the noonday hour, And find them in the mouldered tower. A chime From the seabord gives the noonday tone. One is faintly beating time With a light foot, one is still, Musing on the seaward sill ; A seamew hovers round at will. Finding all so much alone, I take a look around the place To note if it is still the same : The solid gray embrasured frame. The glimpses of blue buoyant space, The crumbling lime, the random scrawl In fresco high upon the wall, The chimney, wind-swept sense and all. And as T sally out from thence, They look such children in their seat, 56 A SOA'G OF THE SEA. A prompting comes, I know not whence : " Children, have ye aught to eat ? " Upon a mountain slope I know a wood, A place of shade and endless solitude. And there from mossy steeps The wild strawberry leaps With hanging stem, The pitted strawberry peeps. In heaps and heaps and heaps ; There is no end of them. I gather out from these a goodly few And bring to you ; And each upon his leaf the silvern sweet, As on a woodland winding-sheet. The wind he dare not stir them for his life. Nor any king of winds, or king of Fife ! And so I leave them at your feet. Fa I do. 1876. L A SOXG OF SYMPATHY. ET it n(3t vex thee for a face Among the shadows, and a buried trust ; Let it not vex thee, though no breathing- space Be found wherein the shadow shall not sit Like madness on the brain, nor memories wild as dust In sunbeam cease to flit At morning and at evenfall And by the walks and by the garden Avail ; Though wistful children gaze and stray Darkling about the corridors and the mellow Sunlighted casement, missing from their day The play and the playfellow. Courage ! even for Her sake. Who watched with thee the night and saw the morning break That found you awfully withdrawn From one another and from speech, S7 58 A S0M7 OF SVMPATHV. And looking each at each, As those who see not, whose wan eyes are fai- At gaze, on where the morning-star Has died within the dawn. Patience ! he is not the less yours That he is one with silence and the hours That stole him from among the flowers : The form dissolves, the power endures. Peace ! You would not disown With any tumult of regret The child you cherished for your own, Betray the faith of these faint eyes at taking leave ? They might have told you not to grieve, That did not ask you to forget. It may be that I do you wrong ; It must be that I do not know. Who know it only from the song You sang a little while ago. But ah to feel the anguish of the lay We sang at yester eve, not fearing for the morrow, Is ours to-day Is sorrow within sorrow. A SOXG OF SWifPATHV. 59 So be it ; yet no idle motions part The loving soul from loving soul, The broken from the bruised life, Or dare upon the living face to scroll The legend of the Bleeding Heart : No, not though myriad deaths were rife. No marvel that he cannot come to you. His faith is with him, he would still be true As yon green cedar to the dew ; His peace is with him, he was drest As if for slumber when he went away, And you, who did not grudge the child his play. You would not stir him from his rest? Cool winds make music for him, and their vows Are precious round his brows ; Our snows Have no such quiet as his long repose. So peace ! although betimes the eyes Should gather dewy at moonrise, And orbs, that were thy love and hers, Should haunt you from a hundred skies And glimmer in the beaded furze. Nay though you roam afield, by snowdrops and the grace 6o A SONG OF sv.vrATi/y. Of visionary footsteps on the lawn Tracking your Darling to his hiding-place, The magic of his being still Will move with you, a rainbow on the hill, A light ascending with the dawn. He will come to you as the bride That lately left her mother's and her father's side, And tells of all her new delight ; No more, as when you missed him from your sight. With eyelids lily-drooping, lily-white, But glorified. And all your glory be of love and him. As cherubim and seraphim. So bring the dress You loved him best in, and whatever more endears This time of mourning through the years, A solemn festival of tears. And tell of all his loveliness. Forget the little grave awhile. The strange distress, And think on all the wisdom of his smile. Strathyrc. 1877. A SONG OF THREE. p\EATH, what of Life ? Although the srave should move. Thy silence is of meaning far more rife, Albeit thou knowest far less than Life of Love, Death, what is Life. Life, what of Love ? Let all thy perfumed breath And red lips with white laughter parted prove, Albeit thou knowest no more than Love of Death, Life, what is Love. Love, what of Death ? With grief and hate at strife, Anger and fear, thy tear-drop only saith, Albeit thou knowest far more than Death of Life, Love, what is Death. 6i J N— 1=1^ — N- gz-^ JJEgEEi^^^EgEJ-rp!^^ T N a green nook and shady ■^ The mill-wheel murmurs on ; But ah its love, my lady, Our lily flower is gone. The mill-race sobs, and sobbing My own voice seems to chime; My heart beats thick and throbbing The mill-wheel beats in time. The sound of many waters Is joyous on the air. If she among the daughters. My own true love, were there. The sun goes down to strengthen New worlds at eventide. And all the moments lengthen The shadow at my side. 62 A SOXG OF THE MILL. 65 The mill-wheel hums, and humming It murmurs murmurs on : It said, Is comings comings It says, Is gouc^ is gone. Is gone ? Is gone for ever, From hollow, home, and hill, From wood, and field, and river That feeds the foaming mill. A SONG OF FOUR. TF Love were strong as Faith is meek, Life still would draw an endless breath It is becavise his arm is weak Love cannot cope with Death. If Faith were warm when Life is old, Love would not take the grave to wife It is because his heart is cold That Death has power on Life. If Life were long as Love is sweet, Faith would prov^e strong as Death doth prove : It is because his foot is fleet That Life plays false to Love. 64 A SONG OF THE HERMITAGE. YY/'OO me not, Woodland, from the cell Beneath the mystic pine, Whose odours at the noon dispel An incense rich as wine, For here beneath its shade did dwell The maid I wooed for mine. They laid her dark in yonder dell, The last of all her line. And in her hand a carven shell With mystic circles nine. And at her head Rose la PuccJIc, Called Rose of Engadine. Ah Sweet, with eyes of the gazelle And foot as ivory fine. The heart whose heaven is in thy spell May well a world resign : What priest of the pure evangel May quit the sacred shrine ? 5 65 66 A SONG OF THE HERMITAGE. The moon will haunt the woodland well. The star within it shine, And here will hang the purple bell And here the bramble twine, But never more by wood or fell For me the morn divine. Thy hermit here my beads I tell. And make the secret sign, And wonder why the streamlets swell. And why the days decline. And why no roses are to smell So sweet, dear Wood, as thine. CHANS ox DE LA TROP BIEN AIMER. r^LOIRE dc Dijon, ficiir trop vttc eclose Sous Ic soldi trop vif dc mon cspoir^ Qui me te rcndra houtoii, rcz'nc ct rose ? L^amojir, c'est done la iiiort ? Lc beau le noir / La poesie dcs Jicurs manes la prose ? La chanson dc niidi Ic chant du soir ? O triste sort! tn'stc metempsycose^ Qui aux mains de V aniotir tout laisse echoir A Pinstant nicme dc Vap()ihcosc ! 67 A SONG OF A DAY. T OVE me while you may, Sweet, ^-^ Love has but his day, Sings his one more lay. Sweet, Then he flies away. Larks fly in the spring. Sweet, Singing as they spring, They would never sing, Sweet, But upon the wing. So Love's song is shy, Sweet, If he cannot fly, Even so it dies, Sweet, In a loveless sky. Once we sealed a vow. Sweet, Could we find it now Upon either brow. Sweet, Love and I and thou ? 68 A SOyC OF A DAY. 69 Upon either eye, Sweet, Seeking far and nigh ? Ah how cither's sigh, Sweet, Gives that dream the he. Was Love sweet to thee, Sweet, Sweet to hear and see ? He can never be, Sweet, As wert thou to me : Sweet to need and know. Sweet, Now no longer so ; Pay him ^vhat we owe, Sweet, Pay and let him go. When his favours pall, Sweet, Nectar turns to gall ; Better let it fall. Sweet, Bliss and pain and all. Say him nay or yea, Sweet, He will say thee nay ; Golden sky is gray, Sweet, Love has had his day. A SONG FROM AFAR. T DO not ask you for your love, ■*■ Or seek to kiss your feet, Nor yet your fan, nor yet your glove, Nor anything so sweet. I do not ask to take your hand, Or kneel beside your knee. Or even bid you understand That you are dear to me. I do not ask you for a smile, I do not bid you play, 1 do not beg a song to while The songless hours away. I do not ask to be your glass That finds 3'ou fair to view ; I only ask to see you pass, And pass unseen by you. 70 A SONG OF THE YOUNG MOON. "POREHEAD of my only Fair, Risen on my dream so soon, And my landscape everywhere In the moon ; Eyes whose summons infinite, Searching all the Milky Way, Finds me here at break of night As of day ; Lips upon whose pasture mute The moon's kisses sink like showers, Paradise of perfumed fruit, Perfumed flowers ; Breasts that forward leaning stilly Darkling in my dream disclose Hanging gardens of the lily And the rose ; 71 72 A SOA'G OF THE YOVNG MOON. Kisses from those hands outspread By the rose-tree on the wall, Gathered white and gathered red, Roses all ; Hands, that with no fear of malice Enfold mine and bid them rest, Each warm palm a solemn chalice For each breast ; As a star to star to-ni^ht. As the lake in the moonshine, Is thy soul in the moonlight Unto mine. What to thee are cloud and calm ? What of night and her abyss, Fondled by the tender palm. Pilgrim's kiss ? What of moon and what of skies, Flown beyond thee and thy ken. Kissed upon the dreamy eyes. Dreamier then ? A SOyC OF THE YOUNG MOON. 1}, What of morning and thy vows Of a vigil sworn to keep, Here across my very brows Fallen asleep ? Sister, I who here, thy brother. Kiss thee only through th}' hair, And had else given many another And to spare — For the starlight on the lake, For the lake the star controls. Kisses for the body's sake And the soul's, For the mute and mystic lands Where the moonset lingers still- Lay this kiss between thy hands On the sill : One, but one, for that lone light. And the dawn that draweth nigh, And for very last good-night And good-bye. A SOXG OF THE DREAMLESS LAND. /^ DO not say my love is blind, ^'"^ If at the banks of yon dark stream Where sleep parts loving mind from mind I cannot dream. O deem it not the less devout Because it does not always sing, And like a child is wearied out At evening. Love has his golden right of way Along the paths no dreams pursue My sleep is dreamless, for all day I dream of you. 74 A SONG OF A CHRISTMAS ROSE. "D OSE, that winter's sweet art Sprung beneath her feet art, Let me pluck thee for my Sweetheart Here between the snows ; Risen from a far land, As if fallen from star-land, All to make a Christmas garland For my Christmas Rose. Winter's Rose and lone lo\-e, First and scarcely blown love. Here I give thee for my own Love This . . . and this . . . anil this . . . Only hoar-drops listen. Hold their breath and glisten, While we Christmas' self re-christen With a Christmas kiss. 75 76 .-; SONG OF A CHKISTMAS KOSE. Pines and eve invoke iis, Skies of pearl and crocus, Frosty light in magic focus Round us and above : Rich the year that closes As her summer posies, If she brings with Christmas roses Rose of Christmas love. ENVOI. T)URE heart, that art as perfect rose As I confessed believer, Whose moonlit beauty warmer glows. Whose very shadow brighter shows Than sunrise on the river ; Since I do know you not of those Who scorn the simples love bestOAVs, Here take my blossom as it blows And kiss it for the giver. Who claims of right what freedom owes With friendship soon must sever ; The weary heart will end its woes, The wistful soul will find repose, The wayward seld or never ; And froward comes and fickle goes. And wilful reaps as wanton sows, But true love blossoms from the snows A Christmas rose for ever. 77 A SONG OF THE LAKE. T OOK, look, the star ! One silver ray ' Lies low upon the mere. Hark, hark, the music from the bay How sweet, how clear ! O answer, answer, while the oar Drips on the starlit track, And echoed, echoed from the shore The song comes back. Pull, pull ! Like dream the bay, the shoal, The blufiF, the bank, are past. And hand in hand, and soul with soul, Meet, meet at last. Sing, sing ! Hush, hush ! The sleeping mere Is silent to the star ; Why waken, now our souls are here. Our songs afar ? 78 A SONG OF THE SANDS. ^"\ THEN waves lie down to kiss the sand And half the pier is drenched in spray, Come, Children, let us all take hand And dance until the break of day. Maiden with boy, and boy with maid, Let all take hold of sunburnt hands. Fling by the bucket and the spade. And dance till sundown on the sands. The billows hand in hand advance On either side along the bay. They bow, then curtsey, ere they dance And dash themselves in foam away. So bow and curtsey, boys and girls, And foot the fairyland you seek. The breeze blows promise through your curls And brings fulfilment t(j each cheek. 79 8o A SONG OF THE SANDS. The fishing village with its tiles Brightens the iris of the sea. They are not rosier than your smiles Nor bluer than your eyes will be. O let the seaman hug the seas, And breast the wave, and brunt the spray We dream ourselves into the breeze, And dance for ever and a day. CHANSON SANS PAROLES. ^ I jc t\nmc^ oui oit iion^ '^ Jc lie dirai mot: J'' en sais bien plus long^ Dis-Ic^ toi\ taniot. St tu ni'aimes^ non on oni\ N''est gtih'c a douter : Mot\ je te Vai dit Entre deux haisers. A SONG OF A VOICE. T T USH ! Whence the music of that note -^ -*• That hke a fountain springs ? Ah listen to that tender throat ! Who is it, what, that sings ? O soul, whose cadences are stirred To songs from far away, O voice, whose note at morning heard Makes music through the day ; O glowing throat, O golden bird From out no silver cage, Whose strain in every raptured word Brings back the golden age ; Sing of the days when time was gay And love and 1 were young, O let me listen to thy lay, And leave my own unsung. 82 A SONG TO THE SINGER. OISTER, the song that wakes in thee Hath in it forecast of the Spring, What time the sunny breezes swing The daflfodil beneath the tree : I seem to sit beside the sea And hear a spirit in thee sing. Thy voice makes many a pleasant place To rest in, many a fragrant spot ; Sweet eyes of the forget-me-not, The charm of wistful-playful ways. Bring back a hundred yesterdays Of song that may not be forgot. If at an hour when storm-winds sway The clouds through heaven from pole to pole, The passion in thee soars t() roll In music to the Far-away, Listen within thyself and say "It is the Soul, it is the Soul." A SONG OF COURAGE. T^RIEND, whose honest laughter Makes the rooftree ring And the whole night after Sing, You, whose spirits tandem Drive dead heats with time, Moralise this random Rhyme : Up and make thee merry While the wine is red, And let dead men bury Dead. He who weeps for mischance, Save he mend endeavour. Shall discover his chance Never. 34 A SO.YG OF COURAGE. 85 All the ages show it, All the sages show, Painter, Singer, Poet Know His own way who carveth Is the man who rules : Hunger only starveth Fools. Not for love of glory Sweat thy hour at noon ; Thou shalt live in story Soon. Morning for tuition, Noon for work and will. Evening for fruition Still. In an hour at farthest Thou shalt see it come : Autumn brings her harvest Home. A SONG OF RHYMES. A FTER song comes supper After saddle crupper : After Solomon comes Tupper. After saint comes siren, After silver iron : After Tennyson comes Byron. After Tom comes Tonson, After steamboat sponson : After Shakespeare comes Ben Jonson. Before pill physician, Before cause condition : Before Tintoret came Titian. After chicks come chickens, After thin men thick uns : After Walter Scott comes Dickens. 86 A SOiVG OF RHVMES. 87 Before rosebeds roses, -') Before nosegays noses : Before Montesquieu came Moses. After boot comes buskin. After dust the dustbin : After Adam Smith comes Ruskin. After shank comes spindle, After dinner dwindle : After Faraday comes Tyndall. After Celt comes Teuton, After Leghorn Luton : Leibnitz after Isaac Newton. After crime comes treason, But before rhyme reason : Hence I stop my song in season. SONGS OF SYMBOLS. ON AN INVITATION. "\ 1 /"IFE willing, and Self sober, oiii ! * *^ Yours truly, ^ For V unlimited, my hero, Means D.T's spirits sunk to zero. Hence, since one's Wife's one's flesh, bespeak Flesh willing, but the spirit weak. Yet ..." letter kills, spirit gives life." Then death means living with my Wife ; For 'tis the \attQx kills the spirit. And with it all my wit, or near it. So off, poor wit, for lack of better, Lest want of spirit kill the letter. ON A NEGLECTED DISCOVERER. "DROVE Solomon friend to naked sailors. ^ " Take us the /(o) x's, the Little dashed-^" (o) .x^'s," i.e. Maclaurin's Theorem. Whence Tailors. 88 A SONG OF DIFFERENTIALS. GREAT Nought as any other quantity : Pure o by o is i. Calhng it " o," 9 Is ;w/, when p is ze-ro by and by, fM-^\ fie, fie! (-^', less self, is o), but lo dy.,^ or as Newton writes, dot-/. E.g. sin .V. /(.r + o) is equal sin .Y. cos o + cos .v. sin o. Say sin .V + cos .V. o. /(.v) away. Divide by o, and find cos .v in sequel. The open long-sought secret secretorum Of this most elegant Calc. Calculorum. A SONG OF INTEGRALS. pRONOUNCE "f-dash." If /, which pronounce "s," But cancels what did dot or d on )\ y=^Jy identically, Or J" f\x)dx, as you guess, If that whole value we may thus express y^rt'.v. But why In this case dol/i divide and multiply By the same term ? fix is meaningless. If 7iol, and / reverse, not dot or d, But dash or d-hy-dx, at the word y=^ydx^ which is absurd. And hence there is no DiflF. Co. nor can be. Mere points of Form : but which if you do see. Dash /J r/'.v, and go to // for me. 90 A SONG OF BEAUTY. "DECAUSE of rocks graven by gentlest streams, Because of tides swayed by the enamoured moon, And of the rose, the maidenhead of June,, Whose thorn deflowers, no bloodless rape of dreams ; Because the sun, whose light, soft as moon- beams, Lulls all the worlds to slumber like a tune, Scorches to fiery heat against the noon ; Wilt thou find Nature false and in extremes ? Ask of dread Time — invisible as Space, A dream, a symbol, yet holding in command All worlds, all gods, all fate, all circumstance, Omnipotent Nothing, changing changeless Face, Time, of the gossamer foot and iron hand — If there be power without elegance. 91 A SONG OF THE ANTIOUE. "pASS, pass the forms of speech. Let the Form speak : The small head level as a lance in rest, Light as a thistle on a meadow-breast, Severe in contour as the curve is meek ; The temples delicate, more Greek than Greek — To which your Shakespeare's firmamental crest Was but a chapel monument at best — The forehead low to crown the oval cheek : Do these suit better with the signs of class And gentle breed — the delicate instant nerve. High mettle mantling under high reserve — Than to the subtle workings of the mind ? Are not all three as one ? O fool and blind, Thou that wouldst be more wise than Phidias. 92 A SONG OF POESY. A TITIAX, sir. a Titian ! the flesh-tints show it. Nay, nay, a Beethoven, or else Mozart ! Nay, Verulam ! See how thought's counterpart, The form, subdues the thought, and shows below it. l6'(7, yca^ my masters, students, did ye know it ! Though wisdom be of truth the sacred heart. Music the spirit, and colour soul of art, 'Tis wisdom, colour, music, makes the poet. Down on thy knees adoring at the feet Of this most glorious mystic Trinity, The Word made Song, and entering into thee A sacrament of eye and ear, where meet The rose, the symbol of all harmony. The rainbow, vision of the mercy-seat. 93 A SONG OF THE REVERSE. nrO be crown sycophant, court laureate, Flatter the foibles of the purple-bred, And snivel requiems o'er their pauper dead ; To muck the royal mews and keep the gate ; To lead the rising stallion to his mate, To fling the slipper at the loveless wed, And almost, if not quite, to warm the bed : Is meed for Some with truth named great in Art ; But vile in spn'it, disloyal, hypocrite. Court fool must be court poet, but what rule Ordains the greatest poet perfect fool ? Who would be parasite of parasite ? Kennel, you slavering hounds, called " men " of letters, Or take another thrashing from your betters. 94 A SONG OF A SONG. T SING a Song, whose music shall be sung On hearths where yet the forest sod is green, On harvest-fields where only moonbeams glean, When moon and stars are old that now are young. From every bough its psaltery shall be slung, And roses wanton ,in the wires for screen ; The humming-bird shall thrill its leaves between. To murmur of the bee its flowers among. And maids shall wear it on their arm for sleeve. And glass themselves within its ruiming stream, And fireflies dance it as a darling dream, A golden light against the purple eve ; And all the dusk and all the woodland dim Fade like a breath into its dying hymn. 95 A SONG OF DISCOVERY. "C'RET not thyself that, missed on the rebound, Some truth doth still elude thee in ad- vance. Thought is a reel, and brain a country- dance. Where truths cross hands, and part, and go the round. And some foot air, and some the vulgar ground, And some are won by craft and some by chance. And some begot by art on circumstance, And some their promise crown, and some confound. Curse not thy star that thy discovery (Experience chief of inexperienced youth) Is proved thy neighbour's secret by and by. Some slough of long divined fact, or lie. How many an innocent goes to bed with Truth, And finds her no more maid than he or I. 96 A SONG OF PASSION. T OVE comes like light, and goes his ■^ way ill flame ; His barb is bloody, if the shaft be white ; His lip is sweetness, but no serpent's bite More poisoned than the kisses of the same. His scorn is praise, his condescension shame. A saint to view, a sinner out of sight, A thief by day, a prodigal at night, His lie is sooth, a pseudonym his name. Wouldst thou stay Love, then put him to the door ; To be sworn friend of his thou mvist offend ; To be his enemy, thou must befriend ; If thou wouldst quit, then call him back once more. If faith thou needs must keep, deceive him well, Remembering Love's heaven is Faith's hell. 97 A SONG OF LIGHT-LOVE. QHE does not find them to her taste, "^ These loves of yours that come and go, These fancies — ah too well we know How fancy runs the heart to waste. Where light-love breasts the silk in haste, Disdainful of the heel-and-toe. Affection follows fair and slow. And wins in honour, though outpaced. Let sentiment play her fancied part. That takes her artifice for art. And join the silks and simpers when They leave the table where you dine ; But do thou linger with the wine, And be a man among the men. A SONG OF DESIRE. T UST is love's moon, and shows his face ^-^ at night ; By day he hunts obscure and prowls alone, Feeding on garbage ; he is love's carrion-kite. The hound that licks his plate and steals his bone. His fever and his nurse, his toy and scourge, Love's man-at-arms and bloodiest foeman he ; His sting and antidote, his meat, his purge. His hunger, thirst, and his satiety. If lust by love be fed, count it for ill, The shower should feed the brook, not brook the shower ; If love by lust, let famine take his fill, Lust is the dust that raises love the flower. But as is flower to flower and dust to dust. Even so is love still love and lust but lust. 99 A SONG OF THE EYES. TT fell upon a day my Heart and I Drew toward kissing. First I kissed her cheek, Then would I kiss her eyes, and, sweet and shy, She turned them to me, though she did not speak. " Ah Love," I said, "it is your eyes that kill." She blushed, and, with her lips half smile half pout, Made answer, knowing I had kissed my fill, " And that is why you fain Avould put them out." O woman's answer, worthy woman's wit ! O wit and sweetness in a lip that lies ! O lip and wit and woman, only fit To kiss and to be kissed ! Put out thine eyes ? Ah Love, that knowest I would not if I could. And I, that know I could not if I would ! A SONG OF PARTS OF SPEECH. "\ "X ZHY should we speak ; is kissing not enough ? When Hps meet close as ours how can we speak ? For the words said in kisses, speech is too rough : Lips unto air are not as lips to cheek, Far less as lips to lips. Could we both speak and kiss, That were the sweetest. Then let us, Sweetest, pray, Speak, kiss, and speak. Yet no, what is amiss ? " Kiss, speak, and kiss," that is what you would say ! And from your lips I read your meaning right, For still you answer with a kiss. Ah thus. And not by words, love keeps his secrets tight : We must be understood of none but us. So let us, Sweet, speak, question and reply, Only in kisses you, in kisses I. A SONG OF THE OPERA. ^ ALJ^E dimora ! Vow the song a cheat, '*^ The music coarse, the tenor stale and loud, The while we fend a pathway through the crowd And find your chariot listening in the street. While midnight doffs her mantle of blood- heat I take my place, a lover shy and proud, Half hid behind that white and scarlet cloud, A true Faust by a real Marguerite. The traffic roars ; the carriage glows and whirls A wanton westward from the fevered east. While pleasure drains her lees and mulls her browst. Safe for one casket hour of hours at least. Lay your sweet hand in mine, that pearl of pearls, A fairer Marguerite by a purer Faust. A SOXG OF HAND IN HAND. ^ I\'E me your hand again : let it lie close ^"^ In mine, as ever fondling lovers lay Who sighed for night and blushed to find it day, Close as the perfume shut within the rose. Ah dear gloved hand ! The carriage lamp- light glows On crowd and thoroughfare and dim cross- way. Sweet, clasp my wrist and fingers, Sweet, I say : This hour may never come again, who knows ? Over your slender hand the scarlet cloak Is as a red rose — yes, take off your glove — Is as a red rose shadowing a white. Quick, quick, your hand ! Ah the swift pulse's stroke Of that warm tender wrist ! Ah Love, ah Love, That quivering palm ! What, what, so soon ? Good-night. 103 A SONG OF CHANGE. 'W'OU will not find me if you wait for me In the old paths at the old eventide ; My life has looked upon eternity Since last we came along them side by side. When I did love you late I was a boy, And you a girl, whose thoughts were far astray ; Your eyes were cold, your touch was more than coy, And so I wandered too and lost my way. But when we stood hand clasped in hand to-night I was no longer boy ; are you surprised ? My love has grown from child to manhood's height Since in the chalice of your lips baptised : A love less of divine but more of human. Because you are no angel but a woman. 104 A SONG OF SELF-POSSESSION. OINCE by thy steps I measure out my pace, And frame my prospect as thine eyes direct, I will not sun my love in public ways, Nor fan a flame that is not circumspect ; But stunt my worship, starve my longing sense. My looks in prison put, my lips in pawn. Not raze the shoot, but bind it within fence, Not quench the light, but keep the curtain drawn. So for dear love's sake, I my love repress. The more insatiate prudent still the more ; Yet not too prudent, less the world should guess What She I wish to seem not to adore. Thyself would wish only thyself should know To judge me by my thought and not by show. '05 A SONG OF HEED. \/0U will not leave his protest half un- heard, Nor take a gentle lover's mind amiss, Whose only and whose venial fault it is He dare not lightly take your lightest word. If you say Stay, why then he means to stay, If you say Go, he cannot choose but go, If you say Come, why then it shall be so At his dear Mistress' bidding night or day. Only, no purpose betwixt hope and fear. No pact divided, no unguarded vows ; That still love's first performance may be spouse To his last promise, though it cost him dear. Let no compunction cross the willing mind : You must be constant, if you would be kind. 106 A SONG OF NAMES. T^IVE names you have : the first for charity, Virtue and tender heaHng ; the next for spirit And playfuhiess ; the rest for courtesy, Endurance, dignity. Yet such your merit Not all of these may half express the human The divine Being that at your birth took breath. The Woman here that is far more of woman Than all of these say or than any saith. What is my name for you ? I have not any ; A thousand in your circle would not meet. Nay, if I come to choose, I have too many. Dearest, Beloved, Ownest, Darling, Sweet. I have a thousand thousand names for thee, Then by what one shouldst thou be known to me ? 107 A SONG OF THE FOURTH COM- MANDMENT. OPOILT Child, here is thy Collect. Did ^ I vow The Sabbath was thy day, and did not keep it Holy to thy sweet ordinance ? O do thou Pardon a first love's first transgression, sweep it From thy remembrance : for I vow and swear I would keep all days holy unto thee, Who count each moment lost beyond despair That is not steeped in thy idolatry. Yea, I will keep thy Sabbaths and thy laws, Thy moons and feasts, so thou be recon- ciled. Thyself art my commandment, and with cause : I have no other God but thee, sweet Child. So read me as I write, and find it true. The day's Epistle is its Gospel too. ic8 A SOXG OF DEFIANCE. "VT'ES, I will kiss your dress, you shall not stay me. Keep still, I say you shall not. Who are you. That you should not be worshipped ? Nay gainsay me, And I will lift the hem and kiss that too. You to my face, you dare to tell me this, I am so far, far far too far, above you. Whose only vantage over you it is. Whose one diviner feature, that I love you. What, do you think I boast ? Nay then, I pray you. Let me retain the single grace I have. In everything but this I would obey you : I am no tyrant. Lady, yet no slave. Take back tliat insult ! What, would you repeat An outrage to your lo\-cr at your feet ? log CHANSON DE DEFL /t NOUS dc7ix, maintcnant ! j^ enrage . . . '^^^ J\'n sn/s bien las ! de via Constance^ De tot, ct de ta nonchalance, Tonjoiirs chagrin, tonjonrs chantage! A nans I que le duel s' engage ! Et pour deft efi permanence Voila nion haiser de vengeance Conimc tin souflct en plcin visage ! Jc n^'en pcux plus ! mon cociir s^elancc En garde ! il y va de la vie ! La Foi contre la Tyrannic, Et toi la Prussc, ct moi la France! A noiLS deux ! duel a outrancc ! Puis que , . . je fainic a la folic ! A SONG OF SOLICITUDE. A H had I known, my Sweet, my perfect ^ Sweet, 'Twas you that felt, no torrent and no rain. No seas had drowned, nor iciest cruel sleet Chilled in mine ears that cry of human pain. But you are used to it ! Used, used to what ? Neglect as bitter as these tears of brine. Suspense sore as thy sighs ; but not, say not From wilfulness or apathy of mine ? Too well you know how in long seasons since Love played the marksman with my heart for tree : Your bow it was that shot his arrows thence ; And shall they now fly back to you from me ? Weep not, lest after all my sorrow prove Not that you love me not, but that you love. I A SONG OF CROSS-PURPOSE. F you, dear Friend, had earlier divined We were no more than friends, and must remain As had the roses never intertwined Nor passion dwelt embowered above us twain ; If in his summer fancy would consent To roam a butterfly and not the bee, Or linger in the orchard well content To lift the fallen pear not shake the tree : We might keep friendship whole and love to boot. Yet here our fortune with his dalliance ends : He grafts his promise on a barren shoot, We are not lovers, and so are not friends. Our purpose still is with false purpose crossed j And even for love's sake love is well nigh lost. A SONG OF PARTING. /^OOD-NIGHT, good-night! How, then, ^^ is the night good, That, holding welcome at arm's length in space. Stifles farewell in his most loathed embrace, Farewell that would be welcome if it could ? Even as the sombre aisles of the fir-wood Paint the pale peak with purple and the grace Of vanished dawn : even as the sweetest face Is sweeter darkling kissed, and 'neath the hood. O kiss most sweet ! * Then let me kiss the night, That makes farewell so welcome-sweet as this. O night most sweet ! Then will I kiss the kisS, That makes the night a day-dream for de- light. Good-night, sweet kiss ! lest, spite of night and will. Good-morrow find us here, and kissing still. 8 113 A SONG OF BEOUEST. ■|\J OTHING I leave thee sweeter than this ■'■^ kiss, To be thy staff and scrip, thy food and clothing ; And, lake it or in liking or in loathing, Thou wilt not find another such as this. It was my all : thy gain is my amiss, Sans bed, sans salve, sans seal of my be- trothing, Content to give thee all and call it nothing. So thou but find it sweeter than it is. And wilt thou then take all, O beauteous born, A bessar at Love's door, this moment even Of charity exalted into heaven. And leave him here a torment and a scorn, Thy Dives more accurst ? Sweet Lazarus, Even from Love's bosom look down on Tantalus. 114 i\l A SONG OF COMPARISON. IXGLE the legends : talk of Hercules And all his labours ; of Enceladus, The Babel-builders, Samson, Sisyphus ; Earth's wars and woes, her Iliads, Odysseys ; Of Jonah, Jason and his Chersonese ; Of Cain, Prometheus, Uzzah, Icarus ; Of Job, Laocoou and Oedipus ; Oenone's sorrows, Rizpah's, Niche's ; Tell of all nature's torments toils and throes, That freeze for fear the torrents on the steep. That turn the rocks to eyes and make them weep, And add all women's and all men's to those : Then find the tale a mocking-bird's, a dove's, A myth, a dream, a jest, a lie, to Love's. "5 A SONG OF REVERSION. in^IRST kiss, first smart : dear pleasure, worst annoy, Who would keep faith with love, if love be pain ? Not I, i' faith. Come back, my kiss, again ! If sweet be sour, what wonder love is coy ? He sat awhile and wept, the beauteous boy, To see his roses pale, his morning wane, The cloud that show^s the rainbow sheds the rain. And grief is dearest bought when bought with jo}'. First love, first pain : and yet within the hour Doth pain return to love to heal the smart ; As dew that seeks the sun converts to shower, Bliss — pain — and — bliss is cycle of the heart. Avaunt then, kiss, if lips but part to meet, Let sweet turn sour, since sad returns to sweet. n6 A SOXG OF THE SOUTHWEST WIND. /'"\ WILD wet Southwest Wind in wild wet showers Blown all day from the wet wild western sea Straight from thy home to hers among the bowers, Take this swift message to my Heart from me. Tell her her beauty will be voiced and sung In farther lands than thou shalt ever find, Tell her her praises will be fresh and young When all things else are old and out of mind. Whisper thou canst not, murmur dost not dare, So shout thy message till her ears burn red ; Weary her e3'es, shake loose her robe, her hair. Blow out the light and bear her into bed. Be to her amorous, be to her kind. Spite of thy showers, O wild wet South- west Wind. .117 A SONG OF THE VINTAGE. T PLEDGE thee not in draughts of still-born -*- Rhine, Nor that which mantles amber in the bell, Foam rampant to the brim of broad Moselle, But in the bath of thy dear charms divine. Come forth, O Aphrodite from the brine, Thy hair yet pregnant with its taste and smell. Thy breasts pineapples drowsed with Mus- catel, Thy lips wild strawberries steeped in Tuscan wine. Come forth from that warm bath as from a bed Spiced with the musk of thee, that I may lie And drink it in at brow and breast and eye, Its white wine seething up amid the red. Come forth, O thou, even from among the dead, That I may drink my fill of thee, and die ! ii3 A SONG OF THE WARDROBE. A XD I will write my song within thine eyes, And in each silken curl a verse entwine, And on thy bosom shall its head recline, And to thy breath its music fall and rise. And it shall swathe thy beauty fold by fold, And fit to every finger like a glove, Thy sandals broidered scarlet with its love. Thy spirit, like thy raiment, breathing gold. Earth shall be clad from thee, as is the Night, ^ The Day's handmaiden, from the spoils of Day, And Day and Night, thy sempstresses, array Thy mysteries in fresh glamour of delight ; While even in thy dreams shall Sleep rehearse Unto the worlds the glory of my verse. 119 A SONG OF THE BEDCHAMBER. AIT" HEN all in white I picture thee arrayed As if for sleep, thy vestal beauty warm In the cool robe that mocks the breathing form, When thus I dream. Sweet, I would be thy maid, Lay by thy festal raiment, tire thy hair. Thy nymphs my fingers, talk to thee the while. And with my hand upon the door would smile Good-nighty sweet Mistress, and so down the stair. Ah let me be thy wardrobe. Sweet, thy bed ! Ah Sweet, I Avould be anything of thee. Thy scarf, thy glove, thy glass, thy jewelry, Thy coverlet, the pillow for thine head. And if it were the grave where thou dost lie, Dear Sweet, I would lie down in it and die. A SONG TO BEDWARD. 'T^O bed, to bed, O weary head and breast ! Dew with the eve, and dewy sleep for pain, Deep dreamless sleep for sick of heart and brain : Even for the weary cometh sometime rest. Calm with the moon, and slumber in the west, A cloudland soft as moonrise come again : Sleep, parched lip, the night shall bring thee rain. Sleep, fitful fiery pulse, for sleep is best. Rest, aching eyes, too weary even to weep, Rest, throbbing brows, for even pain must sleep ; Fold, wan worn limbs, and pillow, restless head, A calm more sweet than dream, more deep than death ; Hush, fevered moan, to waken balmy breath, Sleep, sighs, and waken smiles. To bed, to bed. A SONG OF SOLITUDE. nnO have loved only once : to have been fed A mountain lake by the one secret stream ; A dreamer, tossing on his fevered bed, Who turns at morning to the selfsame dream ; A bird that builds her every year her nest Within the shelter of the same dark bough ; An infant groping for the same dear breast, A mother kissing the same still-born brow : This is my fate, to have been and to be A music thrilling to the one sweet tune, A moon that looks on the same changeful sea, A sea still turned to the same constant moon : This is my fate, O tender spirit and true, To have loved only once, to have loved You. SOXGS OF THE EARLY DEAD. I. \/0U will not live long, will you not ? why ■^ not ? What ails you at the face of sea and sky ? Why should my Swallow be the first to fly, And so sweet music be so soon forgot ? Must Love indeed come pilgrim to the spot Where limbs once swift to speed to him do lie? Shall vassal Death be sovereign of your lot, And fall in love with you as well as I ? Will you go to him as to a bridegroom, And give the kisses you withheld from me, His slave and mistress in the bridal gloom ? Shall you be bound to him, and I be free ? Nay, do not fear him, let him do his worst : Death may take me, if thou shalt ha\-c died first. 124 SONCS OF THE EARLY DEAD. 11. Soft : who mourns the early dead Doth but play the mime to pain, If with bitter tears he stain That green covering of each head. Morn, that mourns her roses shed, Weeps in mist and not in rain ; Rose, that weeps her earliest slain, Bends in silence o'er the bed. They whose passing bell hath rung Had but withered and grown old Even to thee ; now in the mould Bloom, as thou didst know them, young. Spirits dead before their time Live for ever in their prime. Scy.VGS OF THE EARLY DEAD. I25 III. Hush : who weeps the spirit fled Alust not give his sighs the rein, Nor with angry sob profane Sanctuary of the dead. Solemn Hp and eye instead Bring as mourners in the train Of the sorrowing heart and brain, Secret foot and silent tread. In the winter of thv woe Garb for warmth and not for show : Tears that have no help of breath Fall as still as falling snow. Let them, Spirit : there are no Secrets between Grief and Death. 126 SOM7S OF THE EARLY DEAD. IV. Heaven grew to summer in blue laughing skies, Summer, in one green smile of her train- bands. To one red dream of roses through the lands Spread like the winding streams of Paradise. We lingered by their whispering galleries In gardens sunshot over golden sands. And there, thy face a rose between my hands, I kissed thee like a sunset on the eyes. But since that Death hath sealed up either eye, And bound thy face within his cold white band, Is heaven fled from earth through all the land. And from the heaven the sky, and from the sky Her blue, and from the very rose her red ; And all the world may die, now thou art dead. so. yes OF THE EARLY DEAD. 1 27 V. I fashioned me a world of passing rare : And there was Autumn with her golden bough, And Summer with her roses at the prow, And Springtide with her hawthorn in the air ; And Noonday with her cloth-of-gold for wear, And Midnight with her hand upon the Plough, And Evening with the star upon her brow. And Morning with the rainbow in her hair. I fashioned Sleep with feet and bosom bare. And thee asleep, and still had kept my vow That only Sleep and I should find thee fair, Had not foul Death — ah traitor Death, where, where Is he that I may slay him ?— forestalled me now. Where, where is Death ? Ah Love, and where art thou ? A SONG OF INTERSPACE. npHOU art my planet and no fixed star, O glory hidden in the light of noon, Though I did seek thee late and find thee far, More cold and more inconstant than the moon. My love my glass, I looked and I divaned Thy orb majestic and more pure than gold, Its light as constant still as it was kind, And kindlier even than I thought it cold. Yet art thou far : found found alas too late, And worshipped only for a mystic light. Night's countercharm, the counterpoise of fate ; Even as that star in yonder infinite. Moving a world apart, unnamed, unknown^ And loved for its eternity alone. 128 A SONG OF SONGS. OONGS of thee I give thee, giving *^ All the best of me, Leave with thee my sweetest, leaving Songs of thee : Some that fly far out to sea. Some, despite their striving, Backward blown from wind to lee : All in fancy ways contriving Theeward as they flee, Dreams and fancies all but living Songs of thee. 129 SONGS OF SONG. I. C'IjVST gcHcbt., die frohcn Lieder Die die Lichesghith cingiht Leg^ ich dir zii Fiissen iiieder Einst geliebt. An das Herz, das nnr aufschiebt Nicht vcrsagt^ nimm dii sic wiedcr Sclnildlos desscn ich vcrilbt : Nicht ^ unc sonst, zcrstrcitte G lieder Eines Opfcrs gar bctriibt, Sondern cins gcicordene Brildcr Einst geliebt. 130 SOXGS OF SO^'G. 131 II. Set in our songs one word That unto thee belongs, Thy Name, Beloved, Adored, Set in our songs. One music fullest throngs The senses, never stirred To trumpets, cymbals, gongs One anthem, sweetest heard Sung by familiar tongues : Thy Name I that note, that chord Set in our songs. 132 SOAV.S OF SOiVC. iir. She set her music to the words, And, when her whiter hand has met White keys, she sings and strikes the chords She set. Ah at that hour when eyes -are wet. And sorrow, crossing at the fords Of song the torrent of regret, Takes all the healing she accords — Who that has once heard can forget The more than music in the words She set ? SOXGS OF SO.VC. 13: IV. Here at thy feet he sits, and, softly fanned, The chancel music swells that, strong or sweet. Springs like a fountainhead at thy com- mand Here at thy feet. Music and song together rise and beat Their wings as one. The pale cheek glows^ the bland Eyes melt in light as from a mercy-seat. And ah what prophet of that painted band, Hearing and seeing thee, his Paraclete, What saint or angel of that rainbow land Would not, descending from his jasper street, Lay all his heavenly honours in thy hand. Here at thy feet ? A SONG OF A SMILE. T^AITH keeps the keys of that calm smile. And registers its pure decrees, Secure of watch and warden while Faith keeps the keys : The smile of summer on blue seas Embracing round a halcyon isle, A gentle majesty at ease : No glances guarded to beguile. Or only gay to taunt and tease. No absent mockery of a smile : Faith keeps the keys. 134 SONGS OF A PORTRAIT. ^^ REEN eyes and ruddy hair ! Not yonder ^ hue, O painter to the mode of moon and skies. Sunburn that harvest gold, and put for blue Green eyes. Tender and loving hand, not loving-wise, Will you limn false, in hope to find it true, Patron of solar myths and lunar lies ? Will you turn oculist and perfumer too. Stale vendor of cheap washes and cheap dyes ? Young Beauty's groom and landscape-gar- dener you. Green eyes ! 135 136 SONGS OF A PORTRAIT. II. Paint me no paint ! Paint me the things I know, Or be they bright or dark, common or quaint. For as they are I still would have them. So Paint me no paint. Dip in the inner rainbow's faintest faint A sunbeam brush, thy golden palette the bow Of last night's moon, and limn without a taint A Woman fine as flame and pure as snow. And so she were no portrait of my Saint, Were she thrice saint I would not have her. No! Paint me no paint. A SONG OF DEVOTION. "pOND as is sea of sky, and sky of azure, ^ Fond as sick-fancied youth of love-lore conned By moonlight, or as age is of his leisure Fond ; Fond as is grief of every garment donned For death's sake, merit of meed, and need of treasure, As kisses are of kisses that respond ; Fond as is sleep of night, and night of pleasure, Am I of thee : nay fonder far, beyond All scope, all comprehension, and all measure Fond. 137 A SONG OF LENT. T T is Love's fast to-day ; no sight, no word Of thee, a sky from morning overcast ; And, hearing and seeing not, I saw and heard It is Love's fast. It must be I am dainty ; that thou hast Been as a surfeit, the spoilt child in me stirred To fancying thou art not as thou wast : And for a distance gay a landscape blurred, And for life's passing-sweet an overpast. And for its music here a songless bird : It is Love's fast. 138 SONGS OF ENVOI. O WEET, as you please : what can I answer more ? Put on your silver sandals, skim the seas, And show yourself to earth from shore to shore Sweet as you please. On what far isthmus will you take your ease, What inland or what island famed of yore, What gardens of what new Hesperides ? Only come back to us as heretofore, As sweet to touch, to tend, to taste, to tease, As safe, as soon to loving hearts and sore, Sweet, as you please. ■ 139 14° SONGS OF ENVOI. II. My Peace I leave with thee, bequeathing Her Whose worth increaseth with the days' in- crease, That no plague vex nor idle danger stir My Peace. Let Faith attest the deed, Love frame the lease, To have and hold, as these brief signs aver, Until the year determine and decease, Whose lapse restores among the gifts that were. Back from her voyage of the Golden Fleece, Back from the fields of frankincense and myrrh, My Peace. SONGS OF ABSENCE. /^~~^ONE from us the one completest ^-^ Thing our day looks on, Of our dreams the very sweetest Gone. Morning shines as never shone Morning, yet our fleetest Footstep quits its dews at dawn. O fond lover, breast that beatest. Will not day anon Bring thee back thy lamb, that bleatest "Gone?" 141 142 SONGS OF ABSENCE. II. With sick eyes awaking, hollow As from troubled dreams, I rise. Seeing all things sad and shallow With sick eyes. Half the dawn in shadow lies, Only in the east a sallow Light divides the earth and skies ; And a bird flies ... O my Swallow, Gone from where thy lover sighs, And can only sigh, and follow With sick eyes ! A SONG OF WELCOME. T T OME and rest, for all this weary weather, Bird of morning, faint for night and nest, For the springs, the upper and the nether. Home and rest. Back from who love well to who love best. Back to me, even me, who know not whether Here to love or love not be more blest : Bird of broken wing and drooping feather, Bird of weary eye and bleeding breast. Faint in arms of thine to find together Home and rest. M3 A SONG OF RETURN. OONG has come back with Love, as hght with morn, His foot as morning's, gay upon the track : With cheer for gloom, and smile instead of scorn, Song has come back. A churl of late in borrowed garments black, A spendthrift left in sunless fields forlorn ; Not prodigal to others of thy lack, But sad, deaf-mute. Ah hear him wind his horn, His beagles clamorous for the swift attack. His eye like sunshine on the fields of corn : Song has come back. 144 CHANSON DC BAISER PERDU. IDAISER perdu, baisrr ■^^^ Malheur cux., meconnii. Qui z'as-tu. done chercher, Baiser perdu ? La recoiinaitrais-tu ? Dentcnds-tu plcurnicher A Pinstant a VaffiU ? Vttc ! Ic hicn plcure Nest guere vial venu : Alloiis la consoler, Baiser perdu. lO 145. SONGS OF THE NEST. ^^ O, sweet kisses, warm from the nest, ^^ Go, since my Sweet will have it so, Callow fledglings and all the rest, Go. Feathered white as the foam-flakes blow, Feathered red as the robin's vest, All for the love of her, high and low ; Fall on her neck and fall on her breast, Smother her up in a falling snow ; Each in the way that seemeth him best, Go. 146 SOJVGS OF THE NEST. 147 II. Come back, kisses, at peep of night. Homing straight as the wild-bees home, You of the red breast, you of the white, Come : Wakeful all, if wistful some. Warm from the nest that you leave so light , Back to the lips that you left but numb : Blithe from the eyes you have kissed more bright, Home to the nest that hath long been dumb : Pell-mell all as you took your flight, Come. A SONG OF SWEET LIPS. OWEET lips, kiss on : quick come-again- and-gone Soft wild-bee sips, That sweetlier taste than kisses rained upon Sweet lips : Quick gone-and-come, as in the south wind dips Wet ivy on Wet ivy, and the cowering lime-tree drips : Vague as the music played in unison By finger-tips On dreaming brows : kiss gently, but kiss on, Sweet lips. 148 SONGS OF THE ROSE. I. TTANG low, sweet Rose, for, Rose, My kiss hath far to go : The roses all that doze Hang low. I strain upon tiptoe : Bend as the spray that blows When winds walk to and fro. Hang white, for lips to close Like sunset on thy snow ; Hang red, but Rose, sweet Rose, Hang low. 149 150 SOJVCS OF THE ROSE. II. To red the sunset burns to-night : how chilly The still blue overhead ; The white of yonder snowpeaks turning stilly To red. It is an hour when soul and sense are wed, And white breasts, willy-nilly, Burn rosier in its kisses sunset-bred : Burn, while the flush of sunset lingers chilly From all but yon snows fled, And rest, their roses kissed to white, their lily To red. SOA'GS OF THE ROSE. 15' III. Rosebud of twain, hung for all lips' delight That live on roses for their mortal food, O shall I kiss the dark or kiss the bright Rosebud ? O silent kiss, of love well understood : O solemn wild bud, warm in the moonlight, O wild bud, tasting in the shade as good ! O Rose, what shall I answer to the Night, Who breathe the very perfume of thy blood, Kissing the red rosebud all kissed to white Rosebud ? 152 SONGS OF THE ROSE. IV. Crowned and blest, the one star of that million That Night wears as jewels on her breast, Pendant to a heaven of many a billion Crowned and blest : Crowned of one red sapphire kissed to rest On a cushion soft and white as pillion Of the cloud at noon twixt east and west. Rosy as the light that rides postilion On that cloud at even, she yields my hest. Scorned of Kedar, but in Love's pavilion Crowned and blest. A SONG OF BEATING HEART VT'OUR heart was it or mine I heard, So loudly that it made me start ? What was it fluttered like a bird Your heart ? A still pool where twin fishes dart, A still copse till the pheasant whirred, Two watches, ticking hard apart, Each by the other's motion stirred : O kiss, vmconscious of Love's art ! What wonder that my heart-beat spurred Your heart ? «53 SONGS OF THE STARLIGHT. A LL but asleep in the all but bed of arms that enfold her, Arms that engulf in the night of a dreamless deep, Heart beating fainter, eyes closing wearier, lips growing colder, All but asleep. Heavy the perfume of tresses that lightly loosen and sweep Over her neck and her breast from shoulder to shoulder ; What does she reck of Love's moonset or moonrise, his springtides or neap ? What of the embers of passion half- quenched that flicker and smoulder, Ghosts of the slain of her kisses, heap upon heap, Drugged with the warmth of the lips that caress, the limbs that uphold her All but asleep ? IS4 SOA'GS OF THE STARLIGIir. I 55 II. Orion stayed that night to watch our fond farewell, And all the host of heaven with him breathless made Obeisance at the shrine where far above the fell Orion stayed. What of that hour, when eyes of stars that had seen fade Thebes, Ilion, Babel, Nineveh, cast down to hell. Gazed down on stars of eyes that watched them undismayed ? What of that dream remains, its secret guarded well. Of eyes to eyes alone, of star to star betrayed ? Only our gaze that night, your dreams and mine, to tell Orion stayed. A SONG OF PARDON. 'T^HINK not of that sharp word : I have forgiven. Love laughs at sharp and blunt, and sharp and flat, Else is not Love. I will not speak, and even Think not, of that. Whose kiss forgiven came startling like the bat But yester-eve when earth reached up to heaven, And night grew into morning as we sat ? And shall Love shrive, and not herself be shriven. Give alms and starve, taste lean and not the fat? Forgiven seven times ? Nay seven times seven : Think not of that. is6 D' A SONG AT BEST. |EAREST and best, with whom I wage War of a passion half in jest, Sole shrine of all my pilgrimage, My hemisphere from east to west, Alay-garden of the golden age. Dearest and best ; O most sedate when most caressed. Proud queen to whom my soul is page, But shy as bird to leave her nest. Say have you taken for your gage. Love is not love that is confessed f You peck my crumbs, serene and sage, You perch upon my hand and breast, Sweet pilgrim to love's hermitage, Dearer and better than the rest. But will not come into the cage, Dearest and best. 157 A SONG OF DREAMLAND. T) ASS by me, Sweet, in dreams, I do not bid thee stay ; Thy fate and mine may never come more nigh ; Even as dreams themselves meet and at the cross-way Pass by. Not with the tear of pity, Hngering step and sigh, Not with untoward smile or laughter gay, Not with averted head and half-averted eve ; But like a dream, that passes in the morning- gray. Pure, sweet, and silent, look serene and high; And, if it were a dream of night, or dream of day. Pass by. 15S A SONG OF UNREOUITAL. A \ /"HEN blue eyes fill, and lips arc trem- ^^ bling With piteous dumb desire, that will Express itself beyond dissembling When blue eyes fill, Ah who can bid the lips be still, Or check the bitter tears assembling For lips a-cold and eyes that chill : Eyes that to tears give no resembling Pity, proud lips that only kill In answer to the red lips trembling When blue eyes fill ? '59 A SONG OF THE VANISHED. T7OR ever, faces bright, Our sighs may bring back never,. Gone from our dreams, our sight For ever. And this is all endeavour ! Meet, love, kiss, hands unite, And then take hands and sever A dark, a dawn, a light, A glow, a chill, a fever ; A day, and then the night For ever. 160 SONGS OF DESOLATION. I. npOO weak to care : the vacant words must ■*■ fly, The weary eyes resume the vacant stare, The vacant mood repeat the weary cry, Too weak to care. Let sunset pour her blood upon the air. The windlet sue the cloudlet through the sky, The night count all her worlds and find them fair : What matters morn or eve to such as I, Whose waking is a dream of one despair. Whether I dream or wake, or live or die, Too weak to care ? II i6i 1 62 SOIVGS OF DESOLATION. 11. Life, like Night, hath spread her soHtary sable pinion. Darkening earth aghast from heaven in her flight, Under seal of Death that holds in brooding blind dominion Life, like Night. Astral silence : such as follows storm and fight, Strife of wind and waters, beasts and men ; even brute Opinion Slumbers, he who roars so loud and sleeps so light. Exultation, as in scorn of Time and Dawn, his minion, That shall deathless raise his mailed hand and smite Dead the pulseless beat of Chaos trammelling, cog and pinion. Life, like Night. SONGS OF DESOLATION. 163 III. After these years what hostel have I found, What wine and mead for nights and days of tears ? Is this waste wind-scourged land my holy ground, That wild mist-blinded moon the light that cheers, That midnight sky my heaven glory-crowned After these vears ? I come, not well-come ; knock, no light appears ; Cry, and no answer hails, my crying drowned In the wind's ; I shake the latch, and no one hears. Why should I longer tarry, hearing the sound Alone of my own footsteps in my ears ; Seeing my white face in the pane, and wound About from head to foot in worse than fears ; Pacing for nights to come the same sad round After these years ? 1 64 SOA^GS OP DESOLATION. IV. Smile on me then when life is of fresh worth, And women are less cruel cold than men ; When grief slacks rein and courage tightens girth, Smile on me then. The sun, past-master of the heavens, again Smiles on the moon, kept-mistress of the earth. Though she have slept her hour beyond his ken. When night gives place to morning, death to birth. And love, the heron, rising from his fen Kneedeep in tears, takes wing for skies of mirth. Smile on me then. SOJ^GS OF DESOLATIOy. 16$ V. Le niondc en vent toujours nux giiciix. Plus on est faible^ il V aifaiblit ; Pins on est richc^ il Venrichit ; Moins on <7, phis il Ini en vent. Pins on a soif et ventre crenx, Pins il le laisse inassonvi ; Pins on est hiunhle et sotijfreteux^ Plus il le fonrre dans Vonhli. Moins on est gai et fier et prenx, Moins on en tronve ponr ami ; Plus grand des malhenrs est ceci D^etre reconnn malhenrenx. Le monde en vent tonjonrs anx gnenx. A SONG OF TRUTH. 'T^HOU wilt not find me by the brook, Nor in the house, nor yet behind, Nor up the lane, and if thou look Thou wilt not find. My name is Truth. It is the mind Discerns the form the eyes mistook. I am not seen, I am divined. Seek in thyself, that secret nook, And know, when other sense is blind. What in the mart, the field, the book Thou wilt not find. i66 SONGS OF THE POETS. (^HAKESPEARE, thy name draws the gods from their skies : With thine appearing worlds on worlds appear, And all creation re-created cries "Shakespeare.'' Earth's first pole-star of Song, a constant sphere, W'hile other constellations set and rise, Thy phases seasons of the Poet's year : To thee their worship and their sacrifice All times and climes surrender far and near. Thou hast one name among the Wise, the wise Shakespeare. 167 1 68 SONGS OF THE POETS. II. Wordsworth, the spirit of the lonely fell Was thine, proud soul and lonely from thy birth ; But thou wast poet of thy kind as well, Wordsworth. Secure in habit, rustic in thy mirth. The acolyte of wood and lake and dell, A god in stature, if but man in girth ; High as a mountain peak thy soul did dwell, Pure as the mountain air in love with earth. But deep as mountain tarn : and hence thy spell, Wordsworth. SOIVGS OF THE POETS. 169 III. Shelley, Swinburne, your soul is as the flame That strews the zenith with the night's return, Your spirits twin-stars, and like a star each name, Shelley, Swinburne : Your song a sun, whose ardorous pulses spurn Swift surge of music, incensed whence it came, A fire at heart, for all hearts to discern : Your fame a moon, attendant on the same, Attended of all eyes, that all may learn No mist may tarnish and no night may tame Shelley, Swinburne. I70 so AT,?: OF TFIE POETS. IV. Tennyson, thy Muse of old Shows no art's diviner denizen Painter, poet three times told, Tennyson : Crowned of music more than any son. Voice of silver, song of gold. Spirit soul and sense in unison : Thine no lightning, thunder rolled. But heav'n's light, the blue, the benisou, Grandeur of the gentle mould, Tennyson. A SONG FOR BREAKFAST. T ADY MAUD, from yonder lime Thrice the hungry rook hath cawed, Thrice hath heard the mantel chime, Lady Maud, Late for breakfast, lazy head^ Drowsy eight and dreamy nine, Late to wake is late to bed. Morn hath been an hour abroad Since I framed this simple rhyme ; Do you find the moral flawed ? Latest rose is soonest slied^ Sickly grape and sorry wine^ Last to sleep is last to teed. Ah, you well may look sublime, If a trifle overawed : Better take the hint in time, Lady Maud. 171 A SONG IN DUDGEON. T ORDERED tea : where is it ? How the room is crammed, And what a lot of women. " Cocoa ? " Not for me, I ordered — Waiter ! There, he's off! the door is slammed — / ordered tea ! " Coming ! " I know you're coming, yoii are ! Let me see : I've chopped and sandwiched, hammed and sandwiched, veal-and-hammed. And not a drop to — Waiter ! ! " Coming ! " So is //^, That other skulking idiot, stuffed with napkins, shammed With starch and shirtfront from the neck- tie to the knee — Waiter ! ! ! " Oh 'ere you are, sir — coffee." Oh be d d ! I ORDERED Tea ! 172 A SONG OF SCORN. A "\ THENCE all this mean contention ? ^^ Whence These vile disputes that make one sick, Distinctions without difference 'Twixt bric-a-brac and brac-a-bric ? These plagues of gnats that sting and prick, These wordy wars that make earth hell 'Twixt fanatic and fanatic, Betwixt brocade and brocatel ? Thence all your persecutions. Thence Your orthodox and heretic, Yovir Prophet's beard and Peter's pence. Your presbytery and bishopric : Dissensions between louse and tick, 'Twixt infidel and infidel, 'Twixt Protestant and Catholic, Betwixt brocade and brocatel. 173 174 ^ soN'G OF scorn: Hence, all electioneering ! Hence Your squabbles, civic, politic ! A plague of both your Houses ! Sense Might tell you thick head rancours thick. When filthy grease burns with foul wick What matters between stink and smell. Between Whig trick and Tory trick, Betwixt brocade and brocatel ? Poet, whose fancies come too quick To mete to millionths of an ell. Dispense thy verdict with a kick Betwixt brocade and brocatel. A SONG FOR MY DARLING. \ BALLAD for my Sweet, "^ Light as a dream forsaken, A Ballad for her feet, Lest timely she should waken. Morn, by mist overtaken, Seascape and landscape marling. From out his wings hath shaken A Ballad for my Darling. A Ballad of a day, And not a kiss within it, Such as a maid may play And sing upon the spinet. And blackbird thrush and linnet And swallow lark and starling Arc waiting to begin it, A Ballad for my Darling. 175 176 A SONG FOR MY DARLING. When fancy sighs in vain, Song well may slip his tether, But let love hold the rein. He never turns a feather. What matter wind and weather, Wild rain and tempest snarling ? We sing, and all together, A Ballad for my Darling. Sweetheart, when daylight slips From cliff and scar and scarling, He leaves upon sweet lips A Ballad for my Darling. A SONG OF DAYDREAM. /^ O, Ballad, fast as fancy flies, ^""^ Outspeed my dreams across the brine, And find my Lady where she lies, Else be no ballad more of mine. Tell her, in words like her divine, The praises of her last for aye. Even if she live but in thy line, O Ballad of a dreamy day. O Ballad, Ballad, daylight dies. And dreams, like men, come home to dine ; And still my fasting fancy cries, And still I hunger for a sign. Where dost thou loiter, song supine. What crest or headland bids thee stay. What Pyrenee or Apennine, O Ballad of a dreamy day ? 12 X77 178 A SONG OF DAYDREAM. Ballad, Ballad, from the skies A dawn at sunset thou dost shine ; 1 read her music in those eyes, I know whose kiss hath perfumed thine. Those lips, they are not red with wine, Nor warm with sun, nor wet with spray. But with her lips of eglantine, O Ballad of a dreamy day. Sweet Heart, whose dreams are as a shrine Where others cross themselves and pray, Take, take my meaning, and divine My Ballad of a dreamy day. A SONG OF THE DANCE. TTUSH, hark! Beneath a moon as still As ever smiled on Padvian street What rapture through the open sill Where music and the moonlight greet. O hsten to the flying feet ! They pause, they falter, they refrain. Often as dance and music meet Who but must wish them come again ? Once more, once more, the music shrill ! Each soldier rising to the beat, Each maiden answering with a will : They charge, they rally, they retreat. What matters dust or matters heat. When blood and beauty fire the strain ? When Mars and Venus are discreet, Wlio l)ut must wish them come again ? 179 l8o A SOXG OF THE DANCE. ^^'ine, wint, wine, wine ! Come, fill, fill, fill Each warrior springing from his seat. When smiles and kisses pay the bill, Who but may stand a comrade treat ? Who dreams of sleep or stays to eat When love and wine are in the \'ein ? When youth and pleasure are so sweet, Who but must wish them come again ? Friend, in a world of oil and wheat The vines and bines may well remain : When vetch and poppy are so sweet, Who but must wish them come again ? A SONG OF THE VINEYARD. /~*OME, Sweet, the morning clasps and closes Her silver belt with sun sedate, And kiss me where your vineyard dozes, A bowshot from the Saracen's Gate. One alley leadeth, straight as fate, To greenest shade from golden shine : Come down in love as swift as hate. And kiss me between leaves of vine. Come, Sweet, it is the noon of roses, Thy lip is pregnant with their freight. Each tendril by its leaf reposes, Vicenza and Verona wait. Though Paduan schools be learned and great, Teach me a rarer lore of thine, Thy sizar here and graduate. And kiss me between lea\'es of vine. 1 82 A SONG OF THE VINEYARD. When midday sun as midnight snows is, May vines and roses bloom too late ; When the vine-leaf as red as rose is, Are wine and kisses out of date. Bring to these lips of pomegranate Thine own perfumed and red with wine, Cling as the grape-bunch to her mate. And kiss me between leaves of vine. Sweet, behind smiling leaves a-grate Veil all thy laughing eyes from mine. But find beneath a parting strait, And kiss me between leaves of vine. A SOXG OF YES AXD NO. A ^/"HO says Come when my Love says Go ? Who is free that she holds in jess ? Who laughs loud when she laufjhs low ? Who keeps secret what she would guess ? Who sows chickweed where she sows cress? Who but must steer as she doth row ? Who dare checkmate when she plays chess? Who says Yes when my Love says No? Who gives kiss M'hen she answers blow : Who is bold that she would repress ? Who is a-cold when she doth glow : Who is coy that she would caress ? Who binds up when she loosens tress : Who but must ted as she doth mow ? Who unrobes her when she would dress Who says Yes when my Love says No ? 1 84 A SONG OF VES AND NO. Who is dry if her springs do flow : Who is poor when she gives largess ? Who but must freeze when she doth, snow : Who but weep that she doth distress ? Who hath sinned that she doth confess ? Who shall find friend that she finds foe ? Who is cursed that she shall bless ? Who says Yes when my Love says No ? Friend, be it guerdon, gift, or cess, Ill-come or welcome, weal or woe. Who says No when my Love says Yes, Who says Yes when my Love says No ? 7^ ... . - .980 DATE DUE CAYLORD PRINTEDINU S A. PR52I9 R65S6 Renton, vVilliam. Songs of rViHiam Renton. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY ■■"■ ■■■! 11 ijl ||l I I I" I" II I I lllll llll II III AA 000 562 051 3 3 1210 00286 0599