A Lover's Diary Part 11

SACRIFICE

And O most n.o.ble, and yet once again Most n.o.ble spirit, if I ever did Aught that thy goodness frowns on, be it hid Forever, and deep-buried. Let the rain

Of coming springs fall on the quiet grave.

Perchance some violets will grow to tell That I, when uttering this last farewell, Built up a sacrificial architrave;

That I, who wors.h.i.+p thee, have love so great, To live in the horizon thou may'st set; To stand but in the shadow of the gate,

Faithful, when coward promptings cry, "Forget."

Ah, lady, when I gave my heart to thee, It pa.s.sed into thy lifelong regency.

s.h.i.+NE ON

s.h.i.+ne on, O sun! Sing on, O birds of song!

And in her light my heart fas.h.i.+ons a tune Not wholly sad, most like a tender rune Sung by some knight in days gone overlong,

When he with minstrel eyes in Syrian grove Looked out towards his England, and then drew From a sweet instrument a sound that grew From twilight unto morning of his love.

Go, then, beloved, bearing as you go These songs that have more sunlight far than cloud; More summer flowers than dead leaves 'neath the snow;

That tell of hopes from which you raised the shroud.

My lady, bright benignant star, s.h.i.+ne on--

I lift to thee my low Trisagion!

HE that hath pleasant dreams is more fortunate than one who hath a cup-bearer.

--Egyptian Proverb.

SO, THOU ART GONE

So, thou art gone; and I am left to wear Thy memory as a golden amulet Upon my breast, to sing a chansonnette Of winter tones, when summer time is here.

And yet, my heart arises from the dark, Where it fell back in silence when you went To seaward, and a sprite malevolent Sat laughing in the white sails of thy barque.

'Twas not moth-wings das.h.i.+ng against the flame, Burning in love's areanum; 'twas a cry Struck from soul-crossing chords, that, separate, frame

Life's holy calm, or wasting agony.

But now between the warring strings there grows A s.p.a.ce of peace, as 'tween truce-honoured foes.

THE THOUSAND THINGS

Here one by one come back the thousand things Which made divinely sweet our intercourse; Love summons them here straightway to divorce The heart from melancholy wanderings.

"Here laid she her white hand upon my arm; To this place came she with slow-gliding grace; Here smiled she up serenely in my face; And these sweet notes she sang me for a charm."

I treasure up her words, and say them o'er With close-shut eyes; with her again I float Upon the Loire; I see the gems she wore,

The ruby s.h.i.+ning at her queenly throat; I climb with her again the Pyrenees, And hear her laughter ringing through the trees.

THE SEA

I in my childhood never saw the sea Save in my dreams. There it was vast and lone, Splendid in power, breaking against the stone Walls of the world in thunder symphony.

From it arose mists growing into mists Making a cool white curtain for the sun, And melting mornward when the day was done, A moving sphere where spirits kept their trysts.

A ceaseless swinging with the swinging earth, A never-tiring ebbing to and fro, Trenching eternal fastnesses; a girth

Round mountains in their everlasting snow.

It was a vast emotion, fibre-drawn From all the elements since the first dawn.

THE CHART