Where the grasshopper doth sing There our tent shall be the willow, Sounds and odours, sorrowful Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber deep and dull. Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter With a love thou dar'st not utter. Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping Is thine icy bosom leaping While my burning heart lies sleeping? Kiss me ;-oh! thy lips are cold; Hasten to the bridal bed; We may rest, and none forbid. Clasp me, till our hearts be grown Like two shadows into one; Till this dreadful transport may In the sleep that lasts alway. We may dream in that long sleep, Thou mayest dream of her with me. Let us laugh, and make our mirth, All the wide world, beside us TO MARY O MARY dear, that you were here Mary dear, come to me soon, I am not well whilst thou art far; O Mary dear, that you were here! PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. LISTEN, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine; It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar, Or like the sea on a northern shore, Heard in its raging ebb and flow By the captives pent in the cave below. Is a mighty mountain dim and gray, Which between the earth and sky doth lay; On the dim starlight then is spread, And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm. May 4th, 1818. ON A FADED VIOLET. THE Colour from the flower is gone, Which like thy sweet eyes smiled on me; The odour from the flower is flown, Which breathed of thee and only thee! A withered, lifeless, vacant form, I weep-my tears revive it not; I sigh-it breathes no more on me; Its mute and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be. STANZAS, WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES. THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might: The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown: I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, And walked with inward glory crowned- Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; |