Blown thro' sad towns where some dead king
Made music in the chambers of his heart,
Swept by the mighty memory of the past.
Nor spake the sorrowful Queen, nor from deep muse
Unbent the grieving beauty of her brows,
But held her heart's proud pain superbly still.
But when he lifted up his looks, it seemed
Something of sadness in the ancient place,
Like dying breath from lips beloved of yore,
Or unforgotten touch of tender hands
After long years, upon his spirit fell.
For near the carven casement hung the bird,
With hood and jess, that oft had led them forth,
These lovers, thro' the heart of rippling woods
At morning, in the old and pleasant time,
And o'er the broider'd canopies of state
Blazed Uther's dragons, curious, wrought with
Then to his mind that dear and distant dawn
Came back when first a boy at Arthur's court
He paused abasht before the youthful Queen.
And, feeling now her long imploring gaze
Holding him in his sorrow, when he marked
How changed her state, and all unlike to her,
The most renowned beauty of the time,
And pearl of chivalry, for whom himself
All on a summer's day broke, long of yore,
A hundred lances in the field, he sprang
And caught her hand; and, falling to one knee,
Arch'd all his haughty neck to a quick kiss,
And there was silence. Silently the West
Grew red and redder, and the day declined.
You see this dog; it was but yesterday.
I mused forgetful of his presence here,
Till thought on thought drew downward tear on
When from the pillow where wet-cheeked I lay,
A head as hairy as Faunus thrust its way
Right sudden against my face, two golden clear
Great eyes astonished mine, a drooping ear
Did flap on either cheek to dry the spray.
I started first as some Arcadian
Amazed by goatly god in twilight grove,
But as the bearded vision closelier ran
My tears off, I knew Flush, and rose above
Surprise and sadness, thanking the true Pan,
Who by low creatures leads to heights of love.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
VERSE, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where hope clung feeding like a bee—
Both were mine! Life went a-Maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
When I was young? Ah woful when !
Ah, for the change 'twixt now and then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
How lightly then it flashed along!—
Like those trim skiffs unknown of yore,
On windy lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When youth and I lived in't together.
Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O the joys that came down shower-like
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old? Ah, woful ere!
Which tells me Youth's no longer here!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet,
'Tis known that thou and I were one;
I'll think it but a fond deceit-
It cannot be, that thou art gone!
The vesper bell has not yet tolled,
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe that thou art gone?
I see these locks in silvery slips,
This drooping gait, this altered size;
But spring-tide blossoms on thy lips,
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
Life is but thought; so think I will
That Youth and I are house-mates still.
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