With honeyed rain and delicate air, And haunted by the starry head Of her whose gentle will has changed my fate, Shadowing the snow-limbed Eve from whom she came? 4. Here will I lie, while these long branches sway, And you fair stars that crown a happy day Who am no more so all forlorn, As when it seemed far better to be born To labor and the mattock-hardened hand, Than nursed at ease and brought to understand A sad astrology, the boundless plan That makes you tyrants in your iron skies, Cold fires, yet with power to burn and brand 5. But now shine on, and what care I, Who in this stormy gulf have found a pearl 6. Would die; for sullen-seeming Death may give In our low world, where yet 'tis sweet to live. It seems that I am happy, that to me 7. Not die; but live a life of truest breath, Maud made my Maud by that long lover's kiss, Life of my life, wilt thou not answer this? "The dusky strand of Death inwoven here With dear Love's tie, makes Love himself more dear." 8. Is that enchanted moan only the swell Of the long waves that roll in yonder bay? And hark the clock within, the silver knell Of twelve sweet hours that past in bridal white, But now by this my love has closed her sight My own heart's heart and ownest own farewell; And ye meanwhile far over moor and fell Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell, That seems to draw-but it shall not be so : Let all be well, be well. M ROSALIND. I. Y Rosalind, my Rosalind, My frolic falcon, with bright eyes, Whose free delight, from any height of rapid flight, Stoops at all game that wing the skies, My Rosalind, my Rosalind, My bright-eyed, wild-eyed falcon, whither, Up or down the streaming wind? 2. The quick lark's closest-caroled strains, The lightning flash atween the rains, The sunlight driving down the lea, Is not so clear and bold and free Life shoots and glances through your veins, Through lips and eyes in subtle rays. To pierce me through with pointed light; And your words are seeming-bitter, From excess of swift delight. 3. Come down, come home, my Rosalind, Is so sparkling-fresh to view, Some red heath-flower in the dew, And keep you fast, my Rosalind, Fast, fast, my wild-eyed Rosalind, And clip your wings, and make you love; When we have lured you from above, And that delight of frolic flight, by day or night, From north to south; Will bind you fast in silken cords, And kiss away the bitter words From off your rosy mouth. A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. READ, before my eyelids dropt their shade, "The Legend of Good Women," long ago Sung by the morning star of song, who made His music heard below; Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts, that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still. And, for a while, the knowledge of his art Held me above the subject, as strong gales Hold swollen clouds from raining, though my heart, Brimful of those wild tales, Charged both mine eyes with tears. In every land Beauty and Anguish walking hand in hand Those far-renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark, like burning stars, And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong, And trumpets blown for wars; |