262 THE RECOLLECTION. A firmament of purple light More boundless than the depth of night In which the lovely forests grew More perfect both in shape and hue There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, Out of a speckled cloud. Sweet views which in our world above Were imaged by the water's love An atmosphere without a breath, Like one beloved, the scene had lent To the dark water's breast Its every leaf and lineament With more than truth exprest; Like an unwelcome thought -Though Thou art ever fair and kind, Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind Than calm in waters seen! P. B. Shelley. LOVE HOUSELESS. 263 LOVE HOUSELESS. I. THE cold earth slept below; Above, the cold sky shone; With a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of snow 2. The wintry hedge was black; On the bare thorn's breast, Whose roots, beside the pathway track, 3. Thine eyes glowed in the glare As a fen-fire's beam On a sluggish stream Gleams dimly, so the moon shone there; And it yellowed the strings of thy tangled hair, 4. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved; The wind made thy bosom chill; The night did shed On thy dear head Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie Where the bitter breath of the naked sky Might visit thee at will. P. B. Shelley. 264 A PARTING IN DREAMLAND. A PARTING IN DREAMLAND. Αδιστος ἀφεμένων. AMONG the poppies by the well Making the light of summer grey; Whose eyes were eyes of Seraphim. But ere I slept, while still it seemed Above the poppy-heads that fling For there He stood whose eyes are eyes Seemed quivering with the winds of sighs; Burned not, but showered well-heads of tears Yea, and his heart fed living fire; And both his cheeks like ashes wan Were cinders of a spent desire For lack of food to feed upon: Therewith the Spirit smiled and spake Words sweet as breath from buds that break: A PARTING IN DREAMLAND. "I go; take now, dear soul, thy rest; Slumber beneath the poppy-flowers! The mole within her winter nest Be not so folded from sad hours As thou, who of the thought of me Eatest Nepenthé wearily. "I go; but when thy dream is o'er, When thou awakest cold perchance, "Think then of me: though hence I go; Though I am withered, worn, and old, Of thy scant love-yet will I come, He spake; and fire with sudden pain Flashed in his face. Then slumber fell Upon my lids like summer rain; And through faint dreams the terrible Flame of that head, of those wild eyes, Died; and my sleep was Paradise. John Addington Symonds. 265 266 LOVED ONCE. LOVED ONCE. I CLASSED, appraising once, Earth's lamentable sounds; the "well-a-day," The jarring "yea" and "nay," The fall of kisses on unanswering clay, The sobbed "farewell," the "welcome" mournfuller;— But all did leaven the air With a less bitter leaven of sure despair, Than these words "I loved once." And who saith, "I loved once?" Not angels, whose clear eyes love, love foresee, Love through eternity! Who, by to love, do apprehend to be. Not God, called Love, his noble crown-name,― casting A light too broad for blasting! The Great God, changing not from everlasting, Saith never, "I loved once." Oh, never is "Loved once." Thy word, thou Victim-Christ, misprized friend? Thy cross and curse may rend; But, having loved, Thou lovest to the end! It is man's saying-man's! Too weak to move Man desecrates the eternal God-word, love, |