Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 11

VIII.

This is the path that led me to the brook; And this the mead, and this the mossy slope, And this the place where breezes did elope With giddy moths, enamour'd of a look; And here I sat alone, or with a book, Dreaming the dreams of constancy and hope.

IX.

I loved the river well; but not till now Did I perceive the marvels of the sh.o.r.e.

This is a cave, and this an emerald floor; And here Sir Englantine might make a vow, And here a king, a guilty king, might bow Before a child, and break his word no more.

X.

The day is dying. I shall see him die, And I shall watch the sunset, and the red Of all that splendour when the day is dead.

And I shall see the stars upon the sky, And think them torches that are lit on high To light the Lord Apollo to his bed.

XI.

And sweet To-morrow, like a golden bark, Will call for me, and lead me on apace To where I shall behold, in all her grace, Mine own true Lady, whom a happy lark Did late salute, appointing, after dark, A nightingale to carol in his place.

XII.

Oh, come to me! Oh, come, beloved day, O sweet To-morrow! Youngest of the sons Of old King Time, to whom Creation runs As men to G.o.d. Oh, quickly with thy ray Anoint my head, and teach me how to pray, As gentle Jesus taught the little ones.

XIII.

I am aweary of the waiting hours, I am aweary of the tardy night.

The hungry moments rob me of delight, The crawling minutes steal away my powers; And I am sick at heart, as one who cowers, In lonely haunts, remov'd from human sight.

XIV.

How shall I think the night was meant for sleep, When I must count the dreadful hours thereof, And cannot beat them down, or bid them doff Their hateful masks? A man may wake and weep From hour to hour, and, in the silence deep, See shadows move, and almost hear them scoff.

XV.

Oh, come to me, To-morrow! like a friend, And not as one who bideth for the clock.

Be swift to come, and I will hear thee knock, And though the night refuse to make an end Of her dull peace, I promptly will descend And let thee in, and thank thee for the shock.

XVI.

Dear, good To-morrow! in my life, till now, I did not think to need thee quite so soon.

I did not think that I should hate the moon, Or new or old, or that my fevered brow Requir'd the sun to cool it. I will bow To this new day, that he may grant the boon.

XVII.

Yes, 'twill consent. The day will dawn at last.

Day and the tide approach. They cannot rest.

They must approach. They must by every test Of all men's knowledge, neither slow nor fast, Approach and front us. When the night is past, The morrow's dawn will lead me to my quest.

XVIII.

Then shall I tremble greatly, and be glad, For I shall meet my true-love all alone, And none shall tell me of her dainty zone, And none shall say how sweetly she is clad; But I shall know it. Men may call me mad; But I shall know how bright the world has grown.

XIX.

There is a grammar of the lips and eyes, And I have learnt it. There are tokens sure Of trust in love; and I have found them pure.

Is love the guerdon then? Is love the prize?

It is! It is! We find it in the skies, And here on earth 'tis all that will endure.

XX.

All things for love. All things in some divine And wish'd for way, conspire, as Nature knows, To some great good. Where'er a daisy grows There grows a joy. The forest-trees combine To talk of peace when mortals would repine; And he is false to G.o.d who flouts the rose.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter X A RETROSPECT]

LETTER X.

A RETROSPECT.

I.

I walk again beside the roaring sea, And once again I harken to the speech Of waves exulting on the madden'd beach.

A sound of awful joy it seems to me, A shuddering sound of G.o.d's eternity,-- Telling of things beyond the sage's reach.

II.

I walk alone. I see the bounding waves Curl'd into foam. I watch them as they leap Like wild sea-horses loosen'd from the deep.

And well I know that they have seen the graves Of s.h.i.+pwreck'd sailors; for Disaster paves The fearful fields where reapers cannot reap.

III.

Out there, in islands where the summer sun Goes down in tempest, there are loathsome things That crawl to sh.o.r.e, and flap unsightly wings.

But here there are no monsters that can run To catch the limbs of bathers; no! not one; And here the wind is harmless when it stings.