Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping

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1. Sleeping Out: Full Moon They sleep within. . . . I cower to the earth, I waking, I only. High and cold thou dreamest, O queen, high-dreaming and lonely. We have slept too long, who can hardly win The white one flame, and the night-long crying; The viewless passers; the world’s low sighing With desire, with yearning, To the […]...
2. Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet And with dreams thine eyes glistening, Thy still lips are sweet Though the world is a-listening. O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting, Cast thine arms round about me to stay my […]...
3. Tis Sweet to Think Tis sweet to think that, where’er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear, And that, when we’re far from the lips that we love, We’ve but to make love to the lips we are near. The heart, like a tendril, accustom’d to cling, Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish […]...
4. Sonnet VIII Oft as by chance, a little while apart The pall of empty, loveless hours withdrawn, Sweet Beauty, opening on the impoverished heart, Beams like the jewel on the breast of dawn: Not though high heaven should rend would deeper awe Fill me than penetrates my spirit thus, Nor all those signs the Patmian prophet saw […]...
5. An Old Man To His Sleeping Young Bride As when the old moon lighted by the tender And radiant crescent of the new is seen, And for a moment’s space suggests the splendor Of what in its full prime it once has been, So on my waning years you cast the glory Of youth and pleasure, for a little hour; And life again […]...
6. Sonnets viii THAT time of year thou may’st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang, In me thou see’st the twilight of such day As after Sunset fadeth in the West, Which by and by […]...
7. Song From Heine I scanned her picture dreaming, Till each dear line and hue Was imaged, to my seeming, As if it lived anew. Her lips began to borrow Their former wondrous smile; Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow, Grew sparkling as erstwhile. Such tears as often ran not Ran then, my love, for thee; And O, believe […]...
8. Song From An Evening's Love After the pangs of a desperate lover, When day and night I have sighed all in vain, Ah, what a pleasure it is to discover In her eyes pity, who causes my pain! When with unkindness our love at a stand is, And both have punished ourselves with the pain, Ah, what a pleasure the […]...
9. Song II: Have No Thought for Tomorrow Love is enough: have no thought for to-morrow If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain, Ye who have paid for your bliss with great sorrow: For as it was once so it shall be again. Ye shall cry out for death as ye stretch forth in vain Feeble hands to the […]...
10. Song I: Though the World Be A-Waning Love is enough: though the World be a-waning And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil […]...
11. Sonnet VIII Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly, Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds […]...
12. Lips and Eyes IN Celia’s face a question did arise, Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes? ” We,” said the eyes, “send forth those pointed darts Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts.” ” From us,” repli’d the lips, “proceed those blisses Which lovers reap by kind words and sweet kisses.” Then wept the eyes, and from […]...
13. 545. Song-Mally's meek, Mally's sweet Chorus-Mally’s meek, Mally’s sweet, Mally’s modest and discreet; Mally’s rare, Mally’s fair, Mally’s every way complete. AS I was walking up the street, A barefit maid I chanc’d to meet; But O the road was very hard For that fair maiden’s tender feet. Mally’s meek, &c. It were mair meet that those fine feet Were […]...
14. Astrophel And Stella-First Song Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth, Which now my breast o’ercharged to music lendeth? To you, to you, all song of praise is due; Only in you my song begins and endeth. Who hath the eyes which marry state with pleasure? Who keeps the key of Nature’s chiefest treasure? To you, to […]...
15. Etude Realiste A Baby’s feet, like sea-shells pink, Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel’s lips to kiss, we think, A baby’s feet. Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat They stretch and spread and wink Their ten soft buds that part and meet. No flower-bells that expand and shrink Gleam half so heavenly sweet As shine […]...
16. Song V: Through the Trouble and Tangle Love is enough: through the trouble and tangle From yesterday’s dawning to yesterday’s night I sought through the vales where the prisoned winds wrangle, Till, wearied and bleeding, at end of the light I met him, and we wrestled, and great was my might. O great was my joy, though no rest was around me, […]...
17. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
18. Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me There’s nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac’d Only two loop-holes then I might behold; That lovely, arched, ivory, polish’d brow Defac’d with wrinkles that I might but see; Thy dainty hair, so curl’d and […]...
19. Cupid Sleeping [Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire.] CLOSE in a woodbine’s tangled shade, The BLOOMING GOD asleep was laid; His brows with mossy roses crown’d; His golden darts lay scatter’d round; To shade his auburn, curled head, A purple canopy was spread, Which gently with the breezes play’d, And shed around a soften’d shade. […]...
20. 437. Song-Thine am I, my faithful Fair THINE am I, my faithful Fair, Thine, my lovely Nancy; Ev’ry pulse along my veins, Ev’ry roving fancy. To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb and languish; Tho’ despair had wrung its core, That would heal its anguish. Take away those rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure; Turn away thine eyes of love, […]...
21. Sleeping On The Ceiling It is so peaceful on the ceiling! It is the Place de la Concorde. The little crystal chandelier Is off, the fountain is in the dark. Not a soul is in the park. Below, where the wallpaper is peeling, The Jardin des Plantes has locked its gates. Those photographs are animals. The mighty flowers and […]...
22. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
23. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
24. Last Night As I Was Sleeping Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt-marvelous error!- That a spring was breaking Out in my heart. I said: Along which secret aqueduct, Oh water, are you coming to me, Water of a new life That I have never drunk? Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt-marvelous error!- That I had a beehive […]...
25. 233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell, And write how dear I love thee. Then come, sweet […]...
26. Dreams 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 […]...
27. 430. Song-Dainty Davie NOW rosy May comes in wi’ flowers, To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers; And now comes in the happy hours, To wander wi’ my Davie. Chorus.-Meet me on the warlock knowe, Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie; There I’ll spend the day wi’ you, My ain dear Dainty Davie. The crystal waters round us fa’, The merry […]...
28. Who Ever Felt as I? Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But oh, who ever felt as I? No longer could I doubt him true; All other men may use deceit: He always said my eyes were blue, And often swore my lips were sweet....
29. Mother, I cannot mind my Wheel MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: O, if you felt the pain I feel! But O, who ever felt as I? No longer could I doubt him true All other men may use deceit; He always said my eyes were blue, And often swore my lips were sweet....
30. Desmond's Song By the Feal’s wave benighted, No star in the skies, To thy door by Love lighted, I first saw those eyes. Some voice whisper’d o’er me, As the threshold I cross’d, There was ruin before me, If I loved, I was lost. Love came, and brought sorrow Too soon in his train; Yet so sweet, […]...
31. Song III: It Grew Up Without Heeding Love is enough: it grew up without heeding In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure, And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding, As the morning and evening passed over its treasure. And what do ye say […]...
32. Love Song My own dear love, he is strong and bold And he cares not what comes after. His words ring sweet as a chime of gold, And his eyes are lit with laughter. He is jubilant as a flag unfurled Oh, a girl, she’d not forget him. My own dear love, he is all my world, […]...
33. Elegy VIII: The Comparison As the sweet sweat of roses in a still, As that which from chafed musk-cats’ pores doth trill, As the almighty balm of th’ early East, Such are the sweat drops of my mistress’ breast, And on her brow her skin such lustre sets, They seem no sweat drops, but pearl coronets. Rank sweaty froth […]...
34. Sonnet VIII: Why, Through Each Aching Vein Why, through each aching vein, with lazy pace Thus steals the languid fountain of my heart, While, from its source, each wild convulsive start Tears the scorch’d roses from my burning face? In vain, O Lesbian Vales! your charms I trace; Vain is the poet’s theme, the sculptor’s art; No more the Lyre its magic […]...
35. The Chambermaid's First Song How came this ranger Now sunk in rest, Stranger with strangcr. On my cold breast? What’s left to Sigh for? Strange night has come; God’s love has hidden him Out of all harm, Pleasure has made him Weak as a worm....
36. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
37. Song “Oh! Love,” they said, “is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down.” But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye. “Oh! Love,” […]...
38. Sonnet VIII MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere: No eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire, That to the world naught else be counted deare. Thrugh your bright beams doth not ye blinded guest, Shoot out his darts to base affections wound: But Angels come to lead […]...
39. A Bushman's Song I’M travellin’ down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand, I’m handy with the ropin’ pole, I’m handy with the brand, And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day, But there’s no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. + So it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest […]...
40. Song of the Worm THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain ; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong. The tower of ages in fragments is laid, Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its […]...