Heartbreak

As o'er the hill we roam'd at will,
My dog and I together,
We mark'd a chaise, by two bright bays
Slow-moved along the heather:

Two bays arch neck'd, with tails erect
And gold upon their blinkers;
And by their side an ass I spied;
It was a travelling tinker's.

The chaise went by, nor aught cared I;
Such things are not in my way:
I turn'd me to the tinker, who
Was loafing down a by-way:

I ask'd him where he lived - a stare
Was all I got in answer,
As on he trudged: I rightly judged
The stare said, "Where I can, sir."

I ask'd him if he'd take a whiff
Of 'bacco; he acceded;
He grew communicative too,
(A pipe was all he needed,)
Till of the tinker's life, I think,
I knew as much as he did.


"I loiter...

They are buffeting out in the bitter grey weather,
    Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!
Sea-lark singing to Golden Feather,
    And burly blue waters all swelling aroun'.
There's Thunderstone butting ahead as they wallow,
    With death in the mesh of their deep-sea trawl;
There's Night-Hawk swooping by wild Sea-swallow;
    And old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.

    Bashing the seas to a welter of white,
    Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight.
    O, they're dancing like witches to open the ball;
    And old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all.

Now, where have you seen such a bully old sailor?
    His eyes are as blue as the scarf at his throat;
And he rolls on the bridge of his br...

A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July,

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear,

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream,
Lingering in the golden dream,
Life, what is it but a dream?

Oh, come to me when daylight sets;
    Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
    O'er the moonlight sea.
When Mirth's awake, and Love begins,
    Beneath that glancing ray,
With sound of lutes and mandolins,
    To steal young hearts away.
Then, come to me when daylight sets;
    Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
    O'er the moonlight sea.

Oh, then's the hour for those who love,
    Sweet, like thee and me;
When all's so calm below, above,
    In Heaven and o'er the sea.
When maiden's sing sweet barcarolles,
    And Echo sings again
So sweet, that all with ears and souls
    Should love and listen then.
So, come to me when daylight sets;
    Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our ...

Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n:
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives th...

Often, when o'er tree and turret,
Eve a dying radiance flings,
By that ancient pile I linger
Known familiarly as "King's."
And the ghosts of days departed
Rise, and in my burning breast
All the undergraduate wakens,
And my spirit is at rest.

What, but a revolting fiction,
Seems the actual result
Of the Census's enquiries
Made upon the 15th ult.?
Still my soul is in its boyhood;
Nor of year or changes recks.
Though my scalp is almost hairless,
And my figure grows convex.

Backward moves the kindly dial;
And I'm numbered once again
With those noblest of their species
Called emphatically 'Men':
Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,
Through the streets, with tranquil mind,
And a long-backed fancy-mongrel
Trailing casually ...

Venne, non so ben donde.


It came, I know not whence, from far above,
        That clear immortal flame that still doth rise
        Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies,
        And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love.
This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof;
        Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes:
        For love that is not love for aught that dies,
        Dwells in the soul where no base passions move.
If then such loveliness upon its own
        Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth,
        The sheath bespeaks the shining blade within.
To gain our love God hath not clearer shown
        Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth
        To make thee worthy worship without sin.

The winds, as at their hour of birth,
Leaning upon the ridged sea,
Breathed low around the rolling earth
With mellow preludes, ‘We are free.’

The streams, through many a lilied row
Down-carolling to the crisped sea,
Low-tinkled with a bell-like flow
Atween the blossoms, ‘We are free.’

"Now there were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor."



Jack Barrett went to Quetta
Because they told him to.
He left his wife at Simla
On three-fourths his monthly screw.
Jack Barrett died at Quetta
Ere the next month's pay he drew.

Jack Barrett went to Quetta.
He didn't understand
The reason of his transfer
From the pleasant mountain-land.
The season was September,
And it killed him out of hand.

Jack Barrett went to Quetta
And there gave up the ghost,
Attempting two men's duty
In that very healthy post;
And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him
Five lively months at most.

Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta
Enjoy profound repose;
But I shouldn't be astonished
If now his spirit knows
The...

by Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.


My quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the money market, leaves me rather at a loss for important occupation, and drives me to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Having few neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch, and exercise my habits of observation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me; and, during the present season, have derived considerable entertainment from certain sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have, during this early part of the year.

Those who have passed the winter in the country, are sensible of the delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring; and of these, none are more delightful than the first notes of the...

I am the song, that rests upon the cloud;
            I am the sun:
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud,
            When dusk is done.

I am the changing colours of the tree;
            The flower uncurled:
I am the melancholy of the sea;
            I am the world.

The other souls that, passing in their place,
            Each in their groove;
Out-stretching hands that chain me and embrace,
            Speak and reprove.

“O atom of that law, by which the earth
            Is poised and whirled;
Behold! you hurrying with the crowd assert
            You are the world.”

Am I not one with all the things that be
            Warm in the sun?
All that my ears can hear, or eyes can see,
            Till all be done.

I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade
    Thy western window, Chapel of St. John!
    And hear its leaves repeat their benison
    On him, whose hand if thy stones memorial laid;
Then I remember one of whom was said
    In the world's darkest hour, "Behold thy son!"
    And see him living still, and wandering on
    And waiting for the advent long delayed.
Not only tongues of the apostles teach
    Lessons of love and light, but these expanding
    And sheltering boughs with all their leaves implore,
And say in language clear as human speech,
    "The peace of God, that passeth understanding,
    Be and abide with you forevermore!"

The Man that hath great griefs I pity not;
’Tis something to be great
In any wise, and hint the larger state,
Though but in shadow of a shade, God wot!

Moreover, while we wait the possible,
This man has touched the fact,
And probed till he has felt the core, where, packed
In pulpy folds, resides the ironic ill.

And while we others sip the obvious sweet,
Lip-licking after-taste
Of glutinous rind, lo! this man hath made haste,
And pressed the sting that holds the central seat.

For thus it is God stings us into life,
Provoking actual souls
From bodily systems, giving us the poles
That are His own, not merely balanced strife.

Nay, the great passions are His veriest thought,
Which whoso can absorb,
Nor, querulous halting, violate t...

Victory comes late,
And is held low to freezing lips
Too rapt with frost
To take it.
How sweet it would have tasted,
Just a drop!
Was God so economical?
His table 's spread too high for us
Unless we dine on tip-toe.
Crumbs fit such little mouths,
Cherries suit robins;
The eagle's golden breakfast
Strangles them.
God keeps his oath to sparrows,
Who of little love
Know how to starve!

We have a joke whenever we meet,
        Clara and I;
Prattle and laughter, and kisses sweet,
        Clara and I.
Were I but twenty, and not two score,
Clara and I would laugh still more,
With plenty of hopeful years in store
For Clara and I, Clara and I;
With plenty of hopeful years in store
        For Clara and I.

We will be true as Damascus steel,
        Clara and I;
Sealing our truth with a honied seal,
        Clara and I.
Eyes so loving, and lips of rose,
Cheeks where the dainty ripe peach grows,
And mouth where the sly god smiles jocose
At Clara and I, Clara and I;
And mouth where the sly god smiles jocose
        At Clara and I.

We have a kiss whenever we part,
        Clara and I;
Grasping of hand, and flut...

Not of the seething cities with their swarming human hives,
Their fetid airs, their reeking streets, their dwarfed and poisoned lives,
Not of the buried yesterdays, but of the days to be,
The glory and the gateway of the yellow West is she.

The Northern Lights dance down her plains with soft and silvery feet,
The sunrise gilds her prairies when the dawn and daylight meet;
Along her level lands the fitful southern breezes sweep,
And beyond her western windows the sublime old mountains sleep.

The Redman haunts her portals, and the Paleface treads her streets,
The Indian's stealthy footstep with the course of commerce meets,
And hunters whisper vaguely of the half forgotten tales
Of phantom herds of bison lurking on her midnight trails.

Not hers the lore of olden l...

I.

The winds are whist; and, hid in mist,
The moon hangs o'er the wooded height;
The bushy bee, with unkempt head,
Hath made the sunflower's disk his bed,
And sleeps half-hid from sight.
The owlet makes us melody -
Come dance with us in Faëry,
Come dance with us to-night.


II.

The dew is damp; the glow-worm's lamp
Blurs in the moss its tawny light;
The great gray moth sinks, half-asleep,
Where, in an elfin-laundered heap,
The lily-gowns hang white.
The crickets make us minstrelsy -
Come dance with us in Faëry,
Come dance with us to-night.


III.

With scents of heat, dew-chilled and sweet,
The new-cut hay smells by the bight;
The ghost of some dead pansy bloom,
The butterfly dreams in the gloo...

All the flowers cannot weave
    A garland worthy of your hair,
Not a bird in the four winds
    Can sing of you that is so fair.

Only the spheres can sing of you;
    Some planet in celestial space,
Hallowed and lonely in the dawn,
    Shall sing the poem of your face.