The House of Life: A Sonnet-sequenceH.M. Caldwell, 1908 - 108 sider |
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amulet Anteros ardour art thou BEAUTY beauty's bliss breast breath cheek cling cloud dark dead Death deep doth dreams Ere ye eternity evermore face fair feet fire flame flowers fullgrown gaze gift glass golden grace grey hair hand haply harp hath heaven hedgerows hour kiss lady Life's light line 12 line 9 lips look Lord Love's loveliest memory moan mouth murmuring neath NEWBORN night noon o'er once pass'd passionate PORTLAND praise rapture reads round sang shade shadow shalt shame shed shrine sighs sight silence sleep smile snowdrop soft softly song Sonnet soul's sovereign spann'd spirit spray Spring stream sun's sweet tears thee thine eyes things thirst thou thy heart thy name thy soul thyself to-day tree tremulous troth TRUE WOMAN turn Unto VENUS VICTRIX waifs watch wave weeps WILLOWWOOD wind wing wooed youth
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Side 5 - For lo! in some poor rhythmic period, Lady, I fain would tell how evermore Thy soul I know not from thy body, nor Thee from myself, neither our love from God.
Side 4 - ... spirits of mine eyes Before thy face, their altar, solemnize The worship of that Love through thee made known? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own? O love, my love! if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee, Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, — How then should sound upon Life's darkening slope The ground-whirl of the perished leaves...
Side 20 - The pasture gleams and glooms 'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge. Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass. Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: — So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
Side 20 - YOUR hands lie open in the long fresh grass,— The finger-points look through like rosy blooms : Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms 'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
Side 54 - There where the pool is blind of the moon's face. Her dress without her ? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her? Day's appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her? Tears, ah me! for love's good grace, And cold forgetfulness of night or day. What of the heart without her ? Nay, poor heart, Of thee what word remains ere speech be still ? A wayfarer by barren ways and chill, Steep ways and weary, without her thou art,...
Side 100 - A Superscription Look in my face ; my name is Might-have-been ; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell ; Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea shell Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between ; Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen...
Side 11 - O Lord of all compassionate control, O Love! let this my lady's picture glow Under my hand to praise her name, and show Even of her inner self the perfect whole : That he who seeks her beauty's furthest goal, Beyond the light that the sweet glances throw And refluent wave of the sweet smile, may know The very sky and sea-line of her soul. Lo!
Side 28 - HEART'S COMPASS SOMETIMES thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are; A breathless wonder, shadowing forth afar Some heavenly solstice hushed and halcyon; Whose unstirred lips are music's visible tone; Whose eyes the sun-gate of the soul unbar, Being of its furthest fires oracular; — The evident heart of all life sown and mown.
Side 88 - VAIN VIRTUES. WHAT is the sorriest thing that enters Hell ? None of the sins, — but this and that fair deed Which a soul's sin at length could supersede. These yet are virgins, whom death's timely knell Might once have sainted ; whom the fiends compel Together now, in snake-bound shuddering sheaves Of anguish, while the pit's pollution leaves Their refuse maidenhood abominable. Night sucks them down, the tribute of the pit, Whose names, half entered in the book of Life, Were God's desire at noon.
Side 75 - Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death ? Is not the day which God's word promiseth To come man knows not when? In yonder sky, Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath Even at this moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh Though screened and hid, shall walk the daylight here. And dost thou prate of all that man shall do...