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It cannot be that Thou art gone !
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
When we are old :
* This dragging gait-Bijou.
+ Here the poem ends in The Bijou, and the Literary Sou. venir. The remaining portion was published under the title of “ The Old Man's Sigh, a Sonnet,” dated “ The Grove, Highgate, 18th May, 1832," in Blackwood's Magazine, June 1832. I That only serves to make us grieve
In our old age,
That may not rudely be dismist;
And tells the jest without the smile. [O! might Life cease ! and Selfless Mind, Whose total Being is Act, alone remain behind!]
A DAY-DREAM.* My eyes make pictures, when they are shut :
I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruin'd hut,
And thee, and me and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow ! Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green
A wild-rose roofs the ruin'd shed,
And that and summer well † agree : And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
'Twas day : but now few, large, and bright,
The stars are round the crescent moon; And now it is a dark warm night,
The balmiest of the month of June !
* Printed in The Bijou, 1828.
A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet
O ever—ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra, love I thee! +
This depth of tranquil bliss—ah, me!
The shadows dance upon the wall,
By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber moveless all !
And now they melt to one | deep shade! But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel
Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow ! But let me check this tender lay
Which none may hear but she and thou ! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women !
FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE.
O FAIR is Love's first hope to gentle mind!
As Eve's first star thro' fleecy cloudlet peeping; * In the marge-Bijou. 7 Asra! dearly love I thee!-ib. * They make to me-ib.
And sweeter than the gentle south-west wind,
I ASK'D my fair one happy day,
What I should call her in my lay ; By what sweet name from Rome or Greece; Lalage, Neæra, Chloris, Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris,
Arethusa or Lucrece.
“Ah !" replied my gentle fair,
Choose thou whatever suits the line ;
Only, only call me thine."
Come bear me quickly o’er
To yonder woodland shore.
* Morning Post, August 27, 1799; and, with the names given somewhat differently, in The Keepsake for 1829.
f The Athenæum, Oct. 29, 1831. [Now first included in any collection of Coleridge's Poems.] VOL. II.
But vain were my endeavour
To pay thee, courteous guide; Row on, row on, for ever
I'd have thee by my side.
“Good boatman, prithee haste thee,
Dare I demand thy hand ?' “ A maiden's head can never
So hard a point decide; Row on, row on, for ever
I'd have thee by my side.”
The happy bridal over
The wanderer ceased to roam, For, seated by her lover,
The boat became her home. And still they sang together
As steering o'er the tide : “Row on through wind and weather For ever by my
WHERE true Love burns Desire is Love's pure
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,