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Come! an Unseen Flute

Come! an unseen flute

Sighs in the orchards.

The most peaceful song

Is the song that shepherds sing.

The wind beneath the ilex

Ruffles the waters’ dark mirror.

The most joyous song

Is the song that birds sing.

Let no worry torment you.

Let us love! Let us always love!

The most sweet song

Is the song that lovers sing.

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion —

I have shudder’d at it.

I shudder no more.

I could be martyr’d for my religion

Love is my religion

And I could die for that.

I could die for you.

The Gentle Heart

Within the gentle heart Love shelters him,

As birds within the green shade of the grove.

Before the gentle heart, in Nature’s scheme,

Love was not, nor the gentle heart ere Love.

For with the sun, at once,

So sprang the light immediately; nor was

Its birth before the sun’s.

And Love hath his effect in gentleness

Of very self; even as

Within the middle fire the heat’s excess.

The fire of Love comes to the gentle heart

Like as its virtue to a precious stone;

To which no star its influence can impart

Till it is made a pure thing by the sun:

For when the sun hath smit

From out its essence that which there was vile,

The star endoweth it.

And so the heart created by God’s breath

Pure, true, and clean from guile,

A woman, like a star, enamoureth.

In gentle heart of Love for like reason is

For which the lamp’s high flame is fanned

But what is left to love, thus leaving thee?

Alas! that cruel land beyond the sea!

Why thus dividing many a faithful heart,

Never again to meet, when thus they part?

I see not, when thy presence bright I leave,

How wealth, or joy, or peace can be my lot;

Ne’er yet my spirit found such cause to grieve

As now in leaving thee: and if thy thought

Of me in absence should be sorrow-fraught,

Oft will my heart repentant turn to thee,

Dwelling, in fruitless wishes, on this spot,

And all the gracious words here said to me.

O gracious God! to thee I bend my knee,

For thy sake yielding all I love and prize;

And O how mighty must that influence be,

That steals me thus from all my cherish’d joys!

Here, ready, then, myself surrendering,

Prepared to serve thee, I submit; and ne’er

To one so faithful could I service bring,

So kind a master, so beloved and dear.

And strong my ties – my grief unspeakable!

Grief, all my choicest treasures to resign;

Yet stronger still the affections that impel

My heart toward Him, the God whose love is mine.

That holy love, how beautiful! how strong!

Even wisdom’s favourite sons take refuge there;

“Tis the redeeming gem that shines among

Men’s darkest thoughts – for ever bright and fair.

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Katharine

We see you as we see a face

That trembles in a forest place

Upon the mirror of a pool

Forever quiet, clear, and cool;

And in the wayward glass appears

To hover between smiles and tears,

Elfin and human, airy and true,

And backed by the reflected blue.

Believe me…

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear;

No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,

The same look which she turn’d when he rose.

Romeo.

She speaks: —

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o’er my head,

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Juliet.

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

Romeo. [Aside.]

Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet.

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title: – Romeo, doth thy name;

And for that name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself.

Romeo.

I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d;

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

The Unseen Power

We are the flute, our music is all Thine;

We are the mountains echoing only Thee;

And movest to defeat or victory;

Lions emblazoned high on flags unfurled —

They wind invisible sweeps us through the world.

He touched me, so I live to know

He touched me, so I live to know

That such a day, permitted so,

I groped upon his breast.

It was a boundless place to me,

And silenced, as the awful sea

Puts minor streams to rest.

And now, I’m different from before,

As if I breathed superior air,

Or brushed a royal gown;

My feet, too, that had wandered so,

My gypsy face transfigured now

To tenderer renown.

Ode to Cassandra

Darling, come with me and behold

Whether the rose I saw unfold

For the new sun her crimson gown,

Has not this evening to lament

The loss of all her red raiment,

And colour lovely as your own.

Ah! Darling, see how soon, alas!

She loosed her treasures on the grass

Letting them fall on every side!

Nature is well named step-mother

When such a flower unloved by her

Lasts but from morn till even-tide!

Therefore, if you believe me, Dear,

The while your life may still appear

Clad in the greenest for its dress,

Gather, O gather all your Youth:

For Age, who showed the rose no ruth

Even so will dim your loveliness.

Ofttimes I have this strange and penetrating dream:

An unknown woman whom I love and who loves me,

And who, though never changing, ever seems to be

Another —

In whose eyes I see a well known gleam.

She understands. My heart that doth transparent seem

For her alone, alas, ceases also to be

For her, alone, a problem; and her tears fall free

Upon my pallid brow, refreshing as a stream.

Brunette, or blonde, or Titian-haired? I do not know!

Her name? ‘Twas sweet I weel recall when spoken low,

As sweet as those beloved ones by Life exiled.

Her glance is that of statues – looks that vaguely thrill —

And her voice – calm, faintly sounding, gravely mild

It hath the echo of dear voices long since still.

Oh, rapturous martyrdom! ravishing pain!

Oh, infinite anguish and bliss!

With her horrible talons she wounded me,

While she thrilled my soul with a kiss.