Happiness

The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satin and jewels grand
Are all at my command,
And I am happy now.

And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.

But he spoke to re-assure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!"

And thus the words were spoken,
And this the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Here is a ring, as token
That I am happy now!

Wou...

I

One mile more is
Where your door is
Mother mine! -
Harvest's coming,
Mills are strumming,
Apples fine,
And the cider made to-year will be as wine.

II

Yet, not viewing
What's a-doing
Here around
Is it thrills me,
And so fills me
That I bound
Like a ball or leaf or lamb along the ground.

III

Tremble not now
At your lot now,
Silly soul!
Hosts have sped them
Quick to wed them,
Great and small,
Since the first two sighing half-hearts made a whole.

IV

Yet I wonder,
Will it sunder
Her from me?
Will she guess that
I said "Yes," - that
His I'd be,
Ere I thought she might not see him as I see!

V

Old brown gable,
Granary, stabl...

    Like flights of singing-birds went by
        The cheerful hours of girlhood's day,
                When, in my native bowers,
                Of simple buds and flowers
They wove a crown, and hailed me Queen of May!

    Like airy sprites the lasses came,
        Spring's offerings at my feet to lay;
                The crystal from the fountain,
                The green bough from the mountain,
They brought to cheer and shade the Queen of May.

    Around the May-pole on the green,
        A fairy ring they tripped away;
                All merriment and pleasure,
                To chords of tuneful measure
They bounded by the happy Queen of May.

    Though years have passed, and Time has strown
        My raven locks with flakes of gra...

    I.

    A pale green sky is gleaming;
    The steely stars are few;
    The moorland pond is steaming
    A mist of gray and blue.

    Along the pathway lonely
    My horse is walking slow;
    Three living creatures only,
    He, I, and a home-bound crow!

    The moon is hardly shaping
    Her circle in the fog;
    A dumb stream is escaping
    Its prison in the bog.

    But in my heart are ringing
    Tones of a lofty song;
    A voice that I know, is singing,
    And my heart all night must long.


    II.

    Over a shining land--
    Once such a land I knew--
    Over its sea, by a soft wind fanned,
    The sky is all white and blue.

    The waves are kissing the shores,
...

    When fortunes frown, the woes, bedight
    With brooding shadows, bring the night,
        While dismal sorrows darkness dole,
        And disappointments rise and roll
    Above the longings for the light.

    Despair, with hands that curse and blight,
    Sows weakness in the hearts of might
        Until they falter near the goal,
        When fortunes frown.

    But onward still! The valleys white
    With Heaven's blossoms are in sight;
        The Holy Mountains, knoll on knoll,
        Are waiting for the Master Soul,
    And he shall conquer for the right,
        When fortunes frown!

I wrote some lines once on a time
In wondrous merry mood,
And thought, as usual, men would say
They were exceeding good.

They were so queer, so very queer,
I laughed as I would die;
Albeit, in the general way,
A sober man am I.

I called my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him
To mind a slender man like me,
He of the mighty limb.

"These to the printer," I exclaimed,
And, in my humorous way,
I added, (as a trifling jest,)
"There'll be the devil to pay."

He took the paper, and I watched,
And saw him peep within;
At the first line he read, his face
Was all upon the grin.

He read the next; the grin grew broad,
And shot from ear to ear;
He read the third; a chuckling noise
I now began to hear.<...

Louing in trueth, and fayne in verse my loue to show,
That she, deare Shee, might take som pleasure of my paine,
Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pittie winne, and pity grace obtaine,
I sought fit wordes to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inuentions fine, her wits to entertaine,
Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitfull showers vpon my sun-burnd brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Inuentions stay;
Inuention, Natures childe, fledde step-dame Studies blowes;
And others feet still seemde but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with childe to speak, and helplesse in my throwes,
Biting my trewand pen, beating myselfe for spite,
Fool, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart, and write.

Draw thi cheer nigher th' foir, put th' knittin away,
Put thi tooas up o'th' fender to warm:
We've booath wrought enuff, aw should think, for a day,
An a rest willn't do us mich harm.
Awr lot's been a rough en, an tho' we've grown old,
We shall have to toil on to its end;
An altho' we can booast nawther silver nor gold,
Yet we ne'er stood i'th' want ov a Friend.

Soa cheer up, old lass,
Altho' we've grown grey,
An we havn't mich brass,
Still awr hearts can be gay:
For we've health an contentment an soa we can say,
'At we're gradely weel off after all.

As aw coom ovver th' moor, a fine carriage went by,
An th' young squire wor sittin inside;
An wol makkin mi manners aw smothered a sigh,
As for th' furst time aw saw his young bride.
Shoo wor...

Before me, careless lying,
Young Love his ware comes crying;
Full soon the elf untreasures
His pack of pains and pleasures,--
With roguish eye,
He bids me buy
From out his pack of treasures.

His wallet's stuffed with blisses,
With true-love-knots and kisses,
With rings and rosy fetters,
And sugared vows and letters;--
He holds them out
With boyish flout,
And bids me try the fetters.

Nay, Child (I cry), I know them;
There's little need to show them!
Too well for new believing
I know their past deceiving,--
I am too old
(I say), and cold,
To-day, for new believing!

But still the wanton presses,
With honey-sweet caresses,
And still, to my undoing,
He wins me, with his wooing,
To buy his ware
With...

Only a breath - hardly a breath! The shore
Is still a huddled alabaster floor
Of shelving ice and shattered slabs of cold,
Stern wreckage of the fiercely frozen wave,
Gleaming in mailed wastes of white and gold;
As though the sea, in an enchanted grave,
Of fearful crystal locked, no more shall stir
Softly, all lover, to the April moon:
Hardly a breath! yet was I now aware
Of a most delicate balm upon the air,
Almost a voice that almost whispered "soon"!

Not of the earth it was - no living thing
Moves in the iron landscape far or near,
Saving, in raucous flight, the winter crow,
Staining the whiteness with its ebon wing,
Or silver-sailing gull, or 'mid the drear
Rock cedars, like a summer soul astray,
A lone red squirrel makes believe to play,
N...

Amidst applauding cheers I won a prize.
A cynic watched me, with ironic eyes;
An open foe, in open hatred, sneered;
I cared for neither.    Then my friend appeared.
Eager, I listened for his glad 'Well done.'
But sudden shadow seemed to shroud my sun.
He praised me:    yet each slow, unwilling word
Forced from its sheath base Envy's hidden sword,
Two-edged, it wounded me; but, worst of all,
It thrust my friend down from his pedestal,
And showed him as he was - so small, so small.

Dogmatic Teachers, of the snow-white fur!
Ye wrangling Schoolmen, of the scarlet hood!
Who, with a keenness not to be withstood,
Press the point home, or falter and demur,
Checked in your course by many a teasing burr;
These natural council-seats your acrid blood
Might cool; and, as the Genius of the flood
Stoops willingly to animate and spur
Each lighter function slumbering in the brain,
Yon eddying balls of foam, these arrowy gleams
That o'er the pavement of the surging streams
Welter and flash, a synod might detain
With subtle speculations, haply vain,
But surely less so than your far-fetched themes!

In the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.
What have I to fear in life or death
Who have known three things: the kiss in the night,
The white flying joy when a song is born,
And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.

Not while I live may I forget
That garden which my spirit trod!
Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet,
And beautiful as God.

Not while I breathe, awake, adream,
Shall live again for me those hours,
When, in its mystery and gleam,
I met her 'mid the flowers.

Eyes, talismanic heliotrope,
Beneath mesmeric lashes, where
The sorceries of love and hope
Had made a shining lair.

And daydawn brows, whereover hung
The twilight of dark locks: wild birds,
Her lips, that spoke the rose's tongue
Of fragrance-voweled words.

I will not tell of cheeks and chin,
That held me as sweet language holds;
Nor of the eloquence within
Her breasts' twin-moonéd molds.

Nor of her body's languorous
Wind-grace, that glanced like starl...

When they were come into Faery's Court
They rang, no one at home, all gone to sport
And dance and kiss and love as faerys do
For Faries be as human lovers true,
Amid the woods they were so lone and wild
Where even the Robin feels himself exil'd
And where the very books as if affraid
Hurry along to some less magic shade.
'No one at home'! the fretful princess cry'd
'And all for nothing such a dre[a]ry ride
And all for nothing my new diamond cross
No one to see my persian feathers toss
No one to see my Ape, my Dwarf, my Fool
Or how I pace my Otaheitan mule.
Ape, Dwarf and Fool why stand you gaping there
Burst the door open, quick, or I declare
I'll switch you soundly and in pieces tear.'
The Dwarf began to tremble and the Ape
Star'd at the Fool, the Fo...

Who said, 'Peacock Pie?'
    The old King to the sparrow:
Who said, 'Crops are ripe?'
    Rust to the harrow:
Who said, 'Where sleeps she now?'
    Where rests she now her head,
Bathed in eve's loveliness'? - -
    That's what I said.

Who said, 'Ay, mum's the word'?
    Sexton to willow:
Who said, 'Green duck for dreams,
    Moss for a pillow'?

Who said, 'All Time's delight
    Hath she for narrow bed;
Life's troubled bubble broken'? - -
    That's what I said.

They say that all nature is smiling and gay,
    And the birds the most happy of all,
But the sparrow, pursued by the sparrowhawk,
    Savors more of the wormwood and gall.

They say that all nature is smiling and gay,
    But the groan may dissemble the laugh;
E'en now from the meadow is wafted the sound
    Of a bovine bewailing her calf.

They say that all nature is smiling and gay,
    But the moss often covers the rock;
Every animal form is beset by a foe,
    For the wolf always follows the flock.

For the animal holds all inferior flesh
    As its just and legitimate prey;
Every scream of the eagle a panic creates
    As the weaker things scamper away.

They say that all nature is smiling and gay,
    But the smiles are all need...

The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep;
    The shepherd-boy whose tale was left half told!
    The solemn grove uplifts its shield of gold
    To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep;
    It is midsummer, but the air is cold;
    Can it be death?    Alas, beside the fold
    A shepherd's pipe lies shattered near his sheep.
Lo! in the moonlight gleams a marble white,
    On which I read: "Here lieth one whose name
    Was writ in water."    And was this the meed
Of his sweet singing?    Rather let me write:
    "The smoking flax before it burst to flame
    Was quenched by death, and broken the bruised reed."