Your lovers, with a still,
contented mind,
See you well anchored in some port of rest.
LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE WILL
LET love go, if go she will.
Seek not, O fool, her
wantonflight to stay.
Of all she gives and takes away
The best remains behind her still.
The best remains behind; in vain
Joy she may give and take again,
Joy she may take and leave us pain,
If yet she leave behind
The
constant mind
To meet all fortunes nobly, to endure
All things with a good heart, and still be pure,
Still to be
foremost in the
foremost cause,
And still be
worthy of the love that was.
Love coming is omnipotent indeed,
But not Love going. Let her go. The seed
Springs in the favouring Summer air, and grows,
And waxes strong; and when the Summer goes,
Remains, a perfect tree.
Joy she may give and take again,
Joy she may take and leave us pain.
O Love, and what care we?
For one thing thou hast given, O Love, one thing
Is ours that nothing can remove;
And as the King discrowned is still a King,
The
unhappy lover still preserves his love.
I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME KIN
I DO not fear to own me kin
To the glad clods in which spring flowers begin;
Or to my brothers, the great trees,
That speak with pleasant voices in the breeze,
Loud talkers with the winds that pass;
Or to my sister, the deep grass.
Of such I am, of such my body is,
That thrills to reach its lips to kiss.
That gives and takes with wind and sun and rain
And feels keen pleasure to the point of pain.
Of such are these,
The
brotherhood of stalwart trees,
The
humble family of flowers,
That make a light of
shadowy bowers
Or star the edges of the bent:
They give and take sweet colour and sweet scent;
They joy to shed themselves abroad;
And tree and flower and grass and sod
Thrill and leap and live and sing
With silent voices in the Spring.
Hence I not fear to yield my breath,
Since all is still
unchanged by death;
Since in some pleasant
valley I may be,
Clod beside clod, or tree by tree,
Long ages hence, with her I love this hour;
And feel a
lively joy to share
With her the sun and rain and air,
To taste her quiet neighbourhood
As the dumb things of field and wood,
The clod, the tree, and
starry flower,
Alone of all things have the power.
I AM LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS HAD SATE
I AM like one that for long days had sate,
With
seaward eyes set keen against the gale,
On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,
The portbound ships for one ship that was late;
And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy,
And
cruelly was quenched, until at last
One ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,
Bore gaily, and dropt
safely past the buoy;
And lo! the loved one was not there - was dead.
Then would he watch no more; no more the sea
With
myriad vessels, sail by sail, perplex
His eyes and mock his
longing. Weary head,
Take now thy rest; eyes, close; for no more me
Shall hopes untried elate, or ruined vex.
For thus on love I waited; thus for love
Strained all my senses
eagerly and long;
Thus for her coming ever trimmed my song;
Till in the far skies coloured as a dove,
A bird gold-coloured flickered far and fled
Over the pathless waterwaste for me;
And with spread hands I watched the bright bird flee
And waited, till before me she dropped dead.
O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies
How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes
I sought, O bird, the promise of thy
flight!
And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died,
The day has come and gone; and once more night
About my lone life settles, wild and wide.
VOLUNTARY
HERE in the quiet eve
My
thankful eyes receive
The quiet light.
I see the trees stand fair
Against the faded air,
And star by star prepare
The perfect night.
And in my bosom, lo!
Content and quiet grow
Toward perfect peace.
And now when day is done,
Brief day of wind and sun,
The pure stars, one by one,
Their troop increase.
Keen pleasure and keen grief
Give place to great relief:
Farewell my tears!
Still sounds toward me float;
I hear the bird's small note,
Sheep from the far sheepcote,
And lowing steers.
For lo! the war is done,
Lo, now the battle won,
The trumpets still.
The shepherd's
slender strain,
The country sounds again
Awake in wood and plain,
On haugh and hill.
Loud wars and loud loves cease.
I
welcome my release;
And hail once more
Free foot and way world-wide.
And oft at eventide
Light love to talk beside
The hostel door.
ON NOW, ALTHOUGH THE YEAR BE DONE
ON now, although the year be done,
Now, although the love be dead,
Dead and gone;
Hear me, O loved and cherished one,
Give me still the hand that led,
Led me on.
IN THE GREEN AND GALLANT SPRING
IN the green and
gallant Spring,
Love and the lyre I thought to sing,
And kisses sweet to give and take
By the
floweryhawthorn brake.
Now is russet Autumn here,
Death and the grave and winter drear,
And I must
ponder here aloof
While the rain is on the roof.
DEATH, TO THE DEAD FOR EVERMORE
DEATH, to the dead for
evermoreA King, a God, the last, the best of friends -
Whene'er this
mortal journey ends
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;
Smiling, he greets us, on that
tranquil shore
Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn
Disturbs the
eternal sleep,
But in the
stillness far withdrawn
Our dreamless rest for
evermore we keep.
For as from open windows forth we peep
Upon the night-time star beset
And with dews for ever wet;
So from this garish life the spirit peers;
And lo! as a
sleeping city death outspread,
Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!
After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears
And clamour of man's
passion, Death appears,
And we must rise and go.
Soon are eyes tired with
sunshine; soon the ears
Weary of
utterance,
seeing all is said;
Soon, racked by hopes and fears,
The all-
pondering, all-contriving head,
Weary with all things, wearies of the years;
And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;
And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.
TO CHARLES BAXTER
ON THE DEATH OF THEIR COMMON FRIEND, MR. JOHN ADAM, CLERK OF COURT.
OUR Johnie's deid. The mair's the pity!
He's deid, an' deid o' Aqua-vitae.
O Embro', you're a shrunken city,
Noo Johnie's deid!
Tak hands, an' sing a burial ditty
Ower Johnie's heid.
To see him was baith drink an' meat,
Gaun linkin' glegly up the street.
He but to rin or tak a seat,
The wee bit body!
Bein' aye unsicken on his feet
Wi' whusky toddy.
To be aye tosh was Johnie's whim,
There's nane was better teut than him,
Though whiles his gravit-knot wad clim'
Ahint his ear,
An' whiles he'd buttons oot or in
The less ae mair.
His hair a' lang about his bree,
His tap-lip lang by inches three -
A slockened sort 'mon,' to pree
A' sensuality -
A droutly glint was in his e'e
An' personality.
An' day an' nicht, frae daw to daw,
Dink an' perjink an' doucely braw,
Wi' a kind o' Gospel ower a',
May or October,
Like Peden, followin' the Law
An' no that sober.
Whusky an' he were pack thegether.
Whate'er the hour, whate'er the weather,