THREE SONNETS TO A COQUETTE. CARESS'D or chidden by the dainty hand, And singing airy trifles this or that, Light Hope at Beauty's call would perch and stand, That sets at twilight in a land of reeds. 2. The form, the form alone is eloquent ! A nobler yearning never broke her rest Than but to dance-and sing, be gayly drest, And win all eyes with all accomplishment: Yet in the waltzing-circle as we went, My fancy made me for a moment blest To find my heart so near the beauteous breast That once had power to rob it of content. A moment came the tenderness of tears, The phantom of a wish that once could move, A ghost of passion that no smiles restore For ah! the slight coquette, she cannot love, And if you kiss'd her feet a thousand years, She still would take the praise, and care no more. 3. Wan Sculptor, weepest thou to take the cast Of those dead lineaments that near thee lie? His object lives: more cause to weep have I: No tears of love, but tears that Love can die. I pledge her not in any cheerful cup, Nor care to sit beside her where she sits Ah pity hint it not in human tones, But breathe it into earth and close it up With secret death forever, in the pits Which some green Christmas crams with weary bones. SONG. LADY, let the rolling drums Beat to battle where thy warrior stands: Lady, let the trumpets blow, SONG. HOME they brought him slain with spears. All alone she sits and hears Echoes in his empty hall, Sounding on the morrow. The Sun peep'd in from open field, Beat upon his father's shield "O hush, my joy, my sorrow." ON A MOURNER. NATURE, so far as in her lies, Imitates God, and turns her face Counts nothing that she meets with base, 2. Fills out the homely quickset-screens, The swamp, where hums the dropping snipe, 3. And on thy heart a finger lays, Saying, "Beat quicker, for the time 4. And murmurs of a deeper voice, Going before to some far shrine, 5. And when the zoning eve has died Where yon dark valleys wind forlorn, 6. And when no mortal motion jars The blackness round the tombing sod, Thro' silence and the trembling stars Comes Faith from tracts no feet have trod, And Virtue, like a household god 7. Promising empire; such as those That once at dead of night did greet Troy's wandering prince, so that he rose With sacrifice, while all the fleet Had rest by stony hills of Crete. |