UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Are brackish with the salt of human tears!
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow
Claspest the limits of mortality!
And sick of prey, yet howling on for more,
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore;
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm,
Who shall put forth on thee,
Unfathomable Sea?
SWIFTLY walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear,—
Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,
Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of day,
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand-
Come, long-sought !
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noon-tide hee,
Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me ?-And I replied,
No, not thee!
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon-
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night-
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
As a violet's gentle eye
Gazes on the azure sky,
Until its hue grows like what it beholds.
As a grey and empty mist
Lies like solid Amethyst,
Over the western mountain it enfolds,
When the sunset sleeps
Upon its snow.
As a strain of sweetest sound Wraps itself the wind around, Until the voiceless wind be music too As aught dark, vain and dull, Basking in what is beautiful,
Is full of light and love.
FAR, far away, O ye
Halcyons of Memory!
Seek some far calmer nest
Than this abandoned breast
No news of your false spring
To my heart's winter bring;
Once having gone, in vain
Ye come again.
Vultures, who build your bow
High in the Future's towers!
Withered hopes on hopes are spread
Dying joys, choked by the dead,
Will serve your beaks for prey
Many a day.
One boat-cloak did cover
The loved and the lover
Their blood beats one measure,
They murmur proud pleasure
Soft and low ;-
While around the lashed Ocean,
Like mountains in motion,
Is withdrawn and uplifted,
Sunk, shattered, and shifted,
To and fro.
In the court of the fortress
Beside the pale portress,
Like a blood-hound well beaten
The bridegroom stands, eaten
By shame;
On the topmost watch-turret,
As a death-boding spirit,
Stands the grey tyrant father,
To his voice the mad weather
Seems tame;
And with curses as wild
As e'er cling to child,
He devotes to the blast
The best, loveliest, and last
Of his name!
MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory-
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
MINE eyes were dim with tears unshed; Yes, I was firm-thus wert not thou;~~ My baffled looks did fear yet dread
To meet thy looks-I could not know How anxiously they sought to shine With soothing pity upon mine.
To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
Which preys upon itself alone;
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan,
Hiding from many a careless eye
The scorned load of agony.
Whilst thou alone, then not regarded,
The [ ] thou alone should be,
To spend years thus, and be rewarded,
As thou, sweet love, requited me
When none were near-Oh! I did wake
From torture for that moment's sake.
Upon my heart thy accents sweet
Of peace and pity fell like dew
On flowers half dead;-thy lips did meet
Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes threw
Their soft persuasion on my brain,
Charming away its dream of pain.
We are not happy, sweet! our state
Is strange and full of doubt and fear; More need of words that ills abate ;
Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thou and me.
Gentle and good and mild thou art,
Nor can I live if thou appear
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart
Away from me, or stoop to wear
The mask of scorn, although it be
To hide the love thou feel'st for me.
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