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One port, methought, alike they sought, 25 In spite of dreams, in spite of thought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare, - 'Tis not in vain, and not for nought, O bounding breeze, O rushing seas! The wind it blows, the ship it goes,
At last, at last, unite them there! Though where and whither, no one knows.
LIFE IS STRUGGLE
To wear out heart, and nerves, and brain, would go? Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
Be eager, angry, fierce, and hot, And where the land she travels from Imperious, supple-God knows what,
For what's all one to have or not; 5 Away, Far, far behind, is all that they can say.
O false, unwise, absurd, and vain!
For 'tis not joy, it is not gain, On sunny noons upon the deck’s smooth Only it is precisely this
It is not in itself a bliss, face,
That keeps us all alive. Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace;
To say we truly feel the pain, Or, o'er the stern reclining, watch below
And quite are sinking with the strain; The foaming wake far widening as we go.
Entirely, simply, undeceived,
Believe, and say we ne'er believed
A thing we e'er had cared to keep; How proud a thing to fight with wind and
With heart and soul to hold it cheap, wave!
And then to go and try it again; The dripping sailor on the reeling mast
O false, unwise, absurd, and vain! Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it
0, 'tis not joy, and 'tis not bliss, past.
Only it is precisely this
That keeps us still alive. Where lies the land to which the ship
would go? Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. And where the land she travels from? ITE DOMUM SATURÆ, VENIT Away,
HESPERUS Far, far behind, is all that they can say.
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and ALL IS WELL
The rainy clouds are filing fast below, Whate'er you dream, with doubt possessed, And wet will be the path, and wet shall Keep, keep it snug within your breast, And lay you down and take your rest; Home, Rose, and home, Provence and Forget in sleep the doubt and pain,
5 And when you wake, to work again. The wind it blows, the vessel goes,
Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone, And where and whither, no one knows. Who stepped beside and cheered us on
and on? 'Twill all be well: no need of care; My sweetheart wanders far away from me, Though how it will, and when, and In foreign land or on a foreign sea, where,
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La We cannot see, and can't declare.
The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky When sweethearts wander far away from (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and
40 La Palie),
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La And through the vale the rains go sweep
Palie. ing by; Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be? The sky behind is brightening up anew Home, Rose, and home, Provence and (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The rain is ending, and our journey too: Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel | Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:- 45 they
In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie. O'er foreign lands and foreign seas that
stray (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT Palie).
AVAILETH And doth he e'er, I wonder, bring to mind The pleasant huts and herds he left be- Say not the struggle nought availeth, hind?
The labor and the wounds are vain, And doth he sometimes in his slumbering The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain. The feeding kine, and doth he think of me,
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; 5 My sweetheart wandering wheresoe'er it It may be, in yon smoke concealed, be?
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, Home, Rose, and home, Provence and And, but for you, possess the field. La Palie.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, The thunder bellows far from snow to Seem here no painful inch to gain,
25 Far back, through creeks and inlets mak(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and ing, La Palie),
Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And loud and louder roars the flood be
And not by eastern windows only, Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be: When daylight comes, comes in the Home, Rose, and home, Provence and light,
14 La Palie.
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright. Or shall he find before his term be sped 30 Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?
MATTHEW ARNOLD (1822-1888) (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)
SHAKESPEARE For weary is work, and weary day by day To have your comfort miles on miles Others abide our question. Thou art free. away.
We ask and ask-Thou smilest and art Home, Rose, and home, Provence and still, La Palie.
35 Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest
hill Or may it be that I shall find my mate, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, And he returning see himself too late? Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, 5 For work we must, and what we see, we Making the heaven of heavens his dwellsee,
ing-place, And God he knows, and what must be, Spares but the cloudy border of his base must be,
To the foiled searching of mortality;
And thou, who didst the stars and sun- Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, 35 beams know,
Where the winds are all asleep; Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honored, Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, self-secure,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream, Didst tread on earth unguessed at.- Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Better so!
Feed in the ooze of their pastureAll pains the immortal spirit must endure, ground;
40 All weakness which impairs, all griefs Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, which bow,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine: Find their sole speech in that victorious Where great whales come sailing by, brow.
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once!) that she went away? Down and away below!
Once she sate with you and me, 50 brothers call from the bay, On a red gold throne in the heart of the Now the great winds shoreward blow,
sea, Now the salt tides seaward flow, 5 And the youngest sate on her knee. Now the wild white horses play,
She combed its bright hair, and she Champ and chafe and toss in the spray; tended it well, Children dear, let us away!
When down swung the sound of a far-off This way, this way!
She sighed, she looked up through the Call her once before you go
clear green sea;
55 Call once yet!
She said: “I must go, for my kinsfolk In a voice that she will know:
pray "Margaret! Margaret!"
In the little gray church on the shore toChildren's voices should be dear
day. (Call once more!) to a mother's ear; 15 'Twill be Easter-time in the world, ah Children's voices, wild with pain
me! Surely she will come again!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here Call her once and come away;
with thee.” This way, this way!
I said: “Go up, dear heart, through the “Mother dear, we cannot stay;
60 The wild white horses foam and fret.” Say thy prayer, and come back to the Margaret! Margaret!
She smiled, she went up through the surf Come, dear children, come away down; in the bay. Call no more!
Children dear, was it yesterday? One last look at the white-walled town, 25 And the little gray church on the windy Children dear, were we long alone? shore;
“The sea grows stormy, the little ones Then come down!
65 She will not come though you call all day: Long prayers,” I said, “in the world they Come away, come away!
Come!" I said; and we rose through the Children dear, was it yesterday
surf in the bay. We heard the sweet bells over the bay? We went up the beach, by the sandy In the caverns where we lay,
down Through the surf and through the swell, Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the whiteThe far-off sound of a silver bell?
Through the narrow paved streets, where Come away, away, children; all was still,
70 Come, children, come down! To the little gray church on the windy The hoarse wind blows colder; hill.
Lights shine in the town.
When gusts shake the door;
115 We climbed on the graves, on the stones We shall see, while above us worn with rains,
The waves roar and whirl, And we gazed up the aisle through the A ceiling of amber, small leaded panes.
75 A pavement of pearl.
And alone dwell for ever
But, children, at midnight,
125 For her eyes were sealed to the holy When clear falls the moonlight, book!
When spring-tides are low; Loud prays the priest; shut stands the When sweet airs come seaward door.
From heaths starred with broom, children, call no more! And high rocks throw mildly
130 Come away, come down, call no more! On the blanched sands a gloom;
Up the still, glistening beaches, Down, down, down!
85 Up the creeks we will hie, Down to the depths of the sea!
Over banks of bright seaweed She sits at her wheel in the humming The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills, Singing most joyfully.
At the white, sleeping town; Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy, At the church on the hill-side: For the humming street, and the child | And then come back down, with its toy!
90 Singing: “There dwells a loved one, For the priest, and the bell, and the holy But cruel is she! well;
She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea.'
95 Till the spindle drops from her hand,
Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a And her eyes are set in a stare;
burst! And anon there breaks a sigh,
What triumph! hark!—what pain! And anon there drops a tear,
O wanderer from a Grecian shore, 5 From a sorrow-clouded eye,
Still, after many years, in distant And a heart sorrow-laden;
lands, A long, long sigh
Still nourishing in thy bewildered brain For the cold strange eyes of a little Mer- That wild, unquenched, deep-sunken, oldmaiden
world painAnd the gleam of her golden hair.
Say, will it never heal?
And can this fragrant lawn
THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY With its cool trees, and night, And the sweet, tranquil Thames, Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the And moonshine, and the dew,
hill; To thy racked heart and brain
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled Afford no balm?
No longer leave thy wistful flock unDost thou to-night behold
fed, Here, through the moonlight on this Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their English grass,
throats, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian Nor the cropped herbage shoot wild?
5 Dost thou again peruse
But when the fields are still, With hot cheeks and seared eyes
And the tired men and dogs all gone to The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's
And only the white sheep are someDost thou once more assay
times seen Thy flight, and feel come over thee,
Cross and recross the strips of Poor fugitive, the feathery change
moonblanched green, Once more, and once more seem to make Come, shepherd, and again begin the resound
quest! With love and hate, triumph and agony, Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian Here, where the reaper was at work of vale?
In this high field's dark corner, where he How thick the bursts come crowding
leaves through the leaves!
His coat, his basket, and his Again-thou hearest?
earthen cruse, Eternal passion!
And in the sun all morning binds the Eternal pain!
sheaves, Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use
Here will I sit and wait,
While to my ear from uplands far
away Strew on her roses, roses,
The bleating of the folded flocks is And never a spray of yew!
borne, In quiet she reposes;
With distant cries of reapers in the Ah, would that I did too!
All the live murmur of a summer's Her mirth the world required;
day. She bathed it in smiles of glee. But her heart was tired, tired,
Screened is this nook o'er the high, halfAnd now they let her be.
And here till sun-down, shepherd, will Her life was turning, turning,
I be. In mazes of heat and sound;
Through the thick corn the scarlet But for peace her soul was yearning,
poppies peep, And now peace laps her round. And round green roots and yellowing
stalks I see Her cabined, ample spirit,
Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils It fluttered and failed for breath;
25 To-night it doth inherit
And air-swept lindens yield The vasty hall of death.
I made of interwoven twigs or branches.