This world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don't know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.

The sky, grown dull through many waiting days,
Flashed into crimson with the sunrise charm,
So all my love, aroused to vague alarm,
Flushed into fire and burned with eager blaze.
I saw thee not as suppliant, with still gaze
Of pleading, but as victor, - and thine arm
Gathered me fast into embraces warm,
And I was taught the light of Love's dear ways.

This day of triumph is no longer thine,
Oh conqueror, in calm exclusive power. -
As evermore, through storm, and shade, and shine,
    Your woe my pain, your joy my ecstasy,
We breathe together, - so this blessed hour
    Of self-surrender makes my jubilee!

When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In wonder, love and praise.

Thy Providence my life sustained,
And all my wants redressed,
While in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.

To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learned
To form themselves in prayer.

Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart conceived
From Whom those comforts flowed.

When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,
And led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently cleared my way;
And through the pleasing snare...

        "animas sapientiores fieri quiescendo."


And now-cross-buns and pancakes o'er--
Hail, Lords and Gentlemen, once more!
    Thrice hail and welcome, Houses Twain!
The short eclipse of April-Day
Having (God grant it!) past away,
    Collective Wisdom, shine again!

Come, Ayes and Noes, thro' thick and thin,--
With Paddy Holmes for whipper-in,--
    Whate'er the job, prepared to back it;
Come, voters of Supplies--bestowers
Of jackets upon trumpet-blowers,
    At eighty mortal pounds the jacket![1]

Come--free, at length, from Joint-Stock cares--
Ye Senators of many Shares,
    Whose dreams of premium knew no boundary;
So fond of aught like Company,
That you would even have taken tea
    (Had yo...

While on my lonely couch I lie,
I seldom feel myself alone,
For fancy fills my dreaming eye
With scenes and pleasures of its own.

Then I may cherish at my breast
An infant's form beloved and fair,
May smile and soothe it into rest
With all a Mother's fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form
Depending thus on me alone!
And while I hold it safe and warm
What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes
That daylight never showed to me;
What raptures in my bosom rise,
Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of hap...

Ere stopping or turning, to put foorth a hande
Is a charm that thy daies may be long in the land.

Though seventy-times-seven thee Fortune befriend,
O'ertaking at corners is Death in the end.

Sith main-roads for side-roads care nothing, have care
Both to slow and to blow when thou enterest there.

Drink as thou canst hold it, but after is best;
For Drink with men's Driving makes Crowners to Quest.

How the mountains talked together,
Looking down upon the weather,
When they heard our friend had planned his
Little trip among the Andes!
How they'll bare their snowy scalps
To the climber of the Alps
When the cry goes through their passes,
"Here comes the great Agassiz!"
"Yes, I'm tall," says Chimborazo,
"But I wait for him to say so, -
That's the only thing that lacks, - he
Must see me, Cotopaxi!"
"Ay! ay!" the fire-peak thunders,
"And he must view my wonders!
I'm but a lonely crater
Till I have him for spectator!"
The mountain hearts are yearning,
The lava-torches burning,
The rivers bend to meet him,
The forests bow to greet him,
It thrills the spinal column
Of fossil fishes solemn,
And glaciers crawl the faster
To the fe...

When you are old, and I am passed away
Passed, and your face, your golden face, is gray
I think, whate'er the end, this dream of mine,
Comforting you, a friendly star will shine
Down the dim slope where still you stumble and stray.

So may it be:    that so dead Yesterday,
No sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay,
May serve you memories like almighty wine,
When you are old!

Dear Heart, it shall be so.    Under the sway
Of death the past's enormous disarray
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and divine
Love shall still tend you, as God's angels may,
When you are old.

1.
The billows on the beach are leaping around it,
The bark is weak and frail,
The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it
Darkly strew the gale.
Come with me, thou delightful child,
Come with me, though the wave is wild,
And the winds are loose, we must not stay,
Or the slaves of the law may rend thee away.

2.
They have taken thy brother and sister dear,
They have made them unfit for thee;
They have withered the smile and dried the tear
Which should have been sacred to me.
To a blighting faith and a cause of crime
They have bound them slaves in youthly prime,
And they will curse my name and thee
Because we fearless are and free.

3.
Come thou, beloved as thou art;
Another sleepeth still
Near thy sweet mother's anxious...

“You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one?”
-    Byron.


One line of swart profiles and bearded lips dressing,
One ridge of bright helmets, one crest of fair plumes,
One streak of blue sword-blades all bared for the fleshing,
One row of red nostrils that scent battle-fumes.

Forward! the trumpets were sounding the charge,
The roll of the kettledrum rapidly ran,
That music, like wild-fire spreading at large,
Madden’d the war-horse as well as the man.

Forward! still forward! we thunder’d along,
Steadily yet, for our strength we were nursing;
Tall Ewart, our sergeant, was humming a song,
Lance-corporal Black Will was blaspheming and cursing.

Though fast youth's glorious fable flies,
View not the world with worldling's eyes;
Nor turn with weather of the time.
Foreclose the coming of surprise:
Stand where Posterity shall stand;
Stand where the Ancients stood before,
And, dipping in lone founts thy hand,
Drink of the never-varying lore:
Wise once, and wise thence evermore.

As the dead year is clasped by a dead December,
    So let your dead sins with your dead days lie.
A new life is yours and a new hope.    Remember
    We build our own ladders to climb to the sky.

Stand out in the sunlight of promise, forgetting
    Whatever the past held of sorrow and wrong.
We waste half our strength in a useless regretting;
    We sit by old tombs in the dark too long.

Have you missed in your aim?    Well, the mark is still shining.
    Did you faint in the race?    Well, take breath for the next.
Did the clouds drive you back?    But see yonder their lining.
    Were you tempted and fell?    Let it serve for a text.

As each year hurries by, let it join that procession
    Of skeleton shapes that march down to the past,
While you ta...

What is the welcoming word I hear
When I reach home at the close of day?
"Glad you are with us, daddy, dear?"
Something I'd like to hear you say?
No, it is this, invariably:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

"Deep affection," I might reply;
What would it profit if I did?
I might answer: "The price to buy
Clothes and edibles for you, kid."
You would repeat, insistently:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

Isn't my Self enough for you?
Doesn't my Presence satisfy?
No, that spelling would never do;
You want Presents, a new supply,
When you inquire so eagerly:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

'Twould be much nicer and cheaper, son,
If I were welcome without a toy,
But as I'm not, I must purchase one
And take my reward f...

    1
    Terrorism -
    left-wing nerd (twin
    grapefruits in his hand
    gives it away)
    winging a stiletto shoe,
    spitting on an ashcan
    to bring up a bruise or two.

    2
    Visions are steadier -
    I see in the shimmer
    blue veins to target,
    a silhouette of the rich,
    fur wraps in their Bentleys
    time to bring up tar,
    kick ass in Knightsbridge
    with my holiday bomb blast.

    3
    Bag snatching can be dangerous
    let go if you don't want to be
    dragged over cobbles behind a Vespa.

    4
    The Harrod's sign, "please keep
    moving" meant business.

    5
    Pretoria calls as does Manila.
    Later, perhaps, Jerusalem, Beirut,
    Rawa...

I*.
[* In the folio of 1611, these four short pieces are appended to the Sonnets. The second and third are translated from Marot's Epigrams, Liv. III. No. 5, De Diane, and No. 24, De Cupido et de sa Dame. C.]

In youth, before I waxed old,
The blynd boy, Venus baby,
For want of cunning, made me bold
In bitter hyve to grope for honny:
    But when he saw me stung and cry,
    He tooke his wings and away did fly.


II.

As Diane hunted on a day,
She chaunst to come where Cupid lay,
    His quiver by his head:
One of his shafts she stole away,
And one of hers did close convay,
    Into the others stead:
With that Love wounded my Loves hart,
But Diane, beasts with Cupids dart.


III.

I saw, in secret to m...

Medical Unit -

Even as I see, and share with you in seeing,
The altar flame of your love's sacrifice;
And even as I bear before the hour the vision,
Your little hands in hospital and prison
Laid upon broken bodies, dying eyes,
So do I suffer for splendor of your being
Which leads you from me, and in separation
Lays on my breast the pain of memory.
Over your hands I bend
In silent adoration,
Dumb for a fear of sorrow without end,
Asking for consolation
Out of the sacrament of our separation,
And for some faithful word acceptable and true,
That I may know and keep the mystery:
That in this separation I go forth with you
And you to the world's end remain with me.

        *        *        *        *        *

How may I justify the ...

When the sad word, "Adieu," from my lip is nigh falling,
    And with it, Hope passes away,
Ere the tongue hath half breathed it, my fond heart recalling
    That fatal farewell, bids me stay,
For oh! 'tis a penance so weary
    One hour from thy presence to be,
That death to this soul were less dreary,
    Less dark than long absence from thee.

Thy beauty, like Day, o'er the dull world breaking.
    Brings life to the heart it shines o'er,
And, in mine, a new feeling of happiness waking,
    Made light what was darkness before.
But mute is the Day's sunny glory,
While thine hath a voice, on whose breath,
    More sweet than the Syren's sweet story,
My hopes hang, through life and through death!

Oh, thou hadst been a wife for Shakspeare's self!
No head, save some world-genius, ought to rest
Above the treasures of that perfect breast,
Or nightly draw fresh light from those keen stars
Through which thy soul awes ours:    yet thou art bound -
O waste of nature! - to a craven hound;
To shameless lust, and childish greed of pelf;
Athene to a Satyr:    was that link
Forged by The Father's hand?    Man's reason bars
The bans which God allowed. - Ay, so we think:
Forgetting, thou hadst weaker been, full blest,
    Than thus made strong by suffering; and more great
    In martyrdom, than throned as Caesar's mate.

Eversley, 1851.