I In Paris all look’d hot and like to fade. Sere, in the garden of the Tuileries, Sere with September, droop’d the chestnut-trees. ‘Twas dawn; a brougham roll’d through the streets and made Halt at the white and silent colonnade Of the French Theatre. Worn with disease, Rachel, with eyes no gazing can appease, Sate […]

Even in a palace, life may be led well! So spake the imperial sage, purest of men, Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell, Our freedom for a little bread we sell, And drudge under some foolish master’s ken Who rates us if we peer outside our pen– Match’d […]

‘Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, look’d thrice dispirited. I met a preacher there I knew, and said: “Ill and o’erwork’d, how fare you in this scene?”– “Bravely!” said he; “for I of late have been […]

Crouch’d on the pavement, close by Belgrave Square, A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied. A babe was in her arms, and at her side A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare. Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there, Pass’d opposite; she touch’d her girl, who hied Across, and begg’d, […]

In the bare midst of Anglesey they show Two springs which close by one another play; And, “Thirteen hundred years agone,” they say, “Two saints met often where those waters flow. “One came from Penmon westward, and a glow Whiten’d his face from the sun’s fronting ray; Eastward the other, from the dying day, And […]

Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man, How angrily thou spurn’st all simpler fare! “Christ,” some one says, “was human as we are; No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to scan; “We live no more, when we have done our span.”– “Well, then, for Christ,” thou answerest, “who can care? From […]

“Yes, write it in the rock,” Saint Bernard said, “Grave it on brass with adamantine pen! ‘Tis God himself becomes apparent, when God’s wisdom and God’s goodness are display’d, “For God of these his attributes is made.”– Well spake the impetuous Saint, and bore of men The suffrage captive; now, not one in ten Recalls […]

Foil’d by our fellow-men, depress’d, outworn, We leave the brutal world to take its way, And, Patience! in another life, we say, The world shall be thrust down, and we up-borne. And will not, then, the immortal armies scorn The world’s poor, routed leavings? or will they, Who fail’d under the heat of this life’s […]

He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save. So rang Tertullian’s sentence, on the side Of that unpitying Phrygian sect which cried:[1] “Him can no fount of fresh forgiveness lave, “Who sins, once wash’d by the baptismal wave.”– So spake the fierce Tertullian. But she sigh’d, The infant Church! of love she felt […]

“Ah, could thy grave at home, at Carthage, be!” Care not for that, and lay me where I fall! Everywhere heard will be the judgment-call; But at God’s altar, oh! remember me. Thus Monica, and died in Italy. Yet fervent had her longing been, through all Her course, for home at last, and burial With […]

1. MEETING Again I see my bliss at hand, The town, the lake are here; My Marguerite smiles upon the strand,[1] Unalter’d with the year. I know that graceful figure fair, That cheek of languid hue; I know that soft, enkerchief’d hair, And those sweet eyes of blue. Again I spring to make my choice; […]

THE PORTICO OF CIRCE’S PALACE. EVENING A Youth. Circe The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train, The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through my soul! Thou standest, smiling Down on me! thy right arm, Lean’d up against the column there, Props thy soft cheek; Thy left holds, hanging loosely, […]

The Chorus Well hath he done who hath seized happiness! For little do the all-containing hours, Though opulent, freely give. Who, weighing that life well Fortune presents unpray’d, Declines her ministry, and carves his own; And, justice not infringed, Makes his own welfare his unswerved-from law. He does well too, who keeps that clue the […]

O frivolous mind of man, Light ignorance, and hurrying, unsure thoughts! Though man bewails you not, How I bewail you! Little in your prosperity Do you seek counsel of the Gods. Proud, ignorant, self-adored, you live alone. In profound silence stern, Among their savage gorges and cold springs, Unvisited remain The great oracular shrines. Thither […]

For him who must see many years, I praise the life which slips away Out of the light and mutely; which avoids Fame, and her less fair followers, envy, strife, Stupid detraction, jealousy, cabal, Insincere praises; which descends The quiet mossy track to age. But, when immature death Beckons too early the guest From the […]

Hark! ah, the nightingale– The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!–what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still, after many years, in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewilder’d brain That wild, unquench’d, deep-sunken, old-world pain– Say, will it never heal? And can this fragrant lawn With its […]

I too have suffer’d; yet I know She is not cold, though she seems so. She is not cold, she is not light; But our ignoble souls lack might. She smiles and smiles, and will not sigh, While we for hopeless passion die; Yet she could love, those eyes declare, Were but men nobler than […]

I must not say that thou wast true, Yet let me say that thou wast fair; And they, that lovely face who view, Why should they ask if truth be there? Truth–what is truth? Two bleeding hearts, Wounded by men, by fortune tried, Outwearied with their lonely parts, Vow to beat henceforth side by side. […]

A thousand knights have rein’d their steeds To watch this line of sand-hills run, Along the never-silent Strait, To Calais glittering in the sun; To look tow’rd Ardres’ Golden Field Across this wide aerial plain, Which glows as if the Middle Age Were gorgeous upon earth again. Oh, that to share this famous scene, I […]

1. THE RIVER Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat Under the rustling poplars’ shade; Silent the swans beside us float– None speaks, none heeds; ah, turn thy head! Let those arch eyes now softly shine, That mocking mouth grow sweetly bland; Ah, let them rest, those eyes, on mine! On mine let rest […]