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Till the motion be done and the measure

Circling through season and clime, 135 ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS Slumber and sorrow and pleasure,

CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT Vision of virtue and crime; Till consummate with conquering eyes, Two souls diverse out of our human sight A soul disembodied, it rise

Pass, followed one with love and each with From the body transfigured of time. 140 wonder:

The stormy sophist with his mouth of Till it rise and remain and take station

thunder, With the stars of the worlds that re- Clothed with loud words and mantled in joice;

the might Till the voice of its heart's exultation Of darkness and magnificence of night; 5

Be as theirs an invariable voice; And one whose eye could smite the night By no discord of evil estranged,


in sunder, By no pause, by no breach in it changed, Searching if light or no light were thereBy no clash in the chord of its choice.


And found in love of loving-kindness light. It is one with the world's generations, Duty divine and Thought with eyes of

With the spirit, the star, and the sod; fire With the kingless and king-stricken na- Still following Righteousness with deep tions,


150 With the cross, and the chain, and the Shone sole and stern before her and above, rod;

Sure stars and sole to steer by; but more The most high, the most secret, most sweet lonely,

Shone lower the loveliest lamp for earthly The earth-soul Freedom, that only

feet, Lives, and that only is God.

The light of little children, and their love.


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Where all ye sang together, all that are, Lies my young love sleeping in the
And all the starry songs behind thy car shade.
Rang sequence, all our souls acclaim thee Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath


5 "If all the pens that ever poets held Press her parting lips as her waist I Had fed the feeling of their masters' gather slow, thoughts,

10 Waking in amazement she could not but And as with rush of hurtling chariots

embrace me: The flight of all their spirits were impelled Then would she hold me and never let Toward one great end, thy glory-nay, not me go?

then, Not yet might'st thou be praised enough of Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the men.


Swift as the swallow along the river's BEN JONSON light,


Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored Broad-based, broad-fronted, bounteous, winglets, multiform,

Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her With many a valley impleached with ivy

flight. and vine,

Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the Wherein the springs of all the streams pine-tops, run wine,

Wayward as the swallow overhead at set And many a crag full-faced against the of sun, storm,

She whom I love is hard to catch and The mountain where thy Muse's feet conquer; made warm


Hard, but oh, the glory of the winning Those lawns that revelled with her dance were she won!

divine Shines yet with fire as it was wont to When her mother tends her before the shine

laughing mirror, From tossing torches round the dance Tying up her laces, looping up her hair, a-swarm.

Often she thinks, were this wild thing Nor less, high-stationed on the gray grave

wedded, heights,

More love should I have, and much less High-thoughted seers with heaven's heart- care. kindling lights

10 When her mother tends her before the Hold converse: and the herd of meaner lighted mirror, things

Loosening her laces, combing down her Knows or by fiery scourge or fiery shaft

curls, When wrath on thy broad brows has risen, Often she thinks, were this wild thing and laughed

wedded, Darkening thy soul with shadow of thun- I should miss but one for many boys and derous wings.




Heartless she is as the shadow in the GEORGE MEREDITH (1828-1909)



Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy

noon. Under yonder beech-tree single on the No, she is athirst and drinking up her greensward,

wonder; Couched with her arms behind her Earth to her is young as the slip of the golden head,

new moon. Knees and tresses folded to slip and Deals she an unkindness, 'tis but her rapid ripple idly,



Even as in a dance; and her smile can Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and heal no less:

30 lighting Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts Wild cloud-mountains that drag. the the flowers with hailstones

hills along, Off a sunny border, she was made to Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant bruise and bless.


Chill as a dull face frowning on a song. 60 Lovely are the curves of the white owl Ay, but shows the South-west a ripplesweeping

feathered bosom Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. Blown to silver while the clouds are Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note un- shaken and ascend, varied,

35 Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown

there comes a sunset evejar.

Rich, deep like love in beauty without Darker grows the valley, more and more

end. forgetting: So were it with me if forgetting could be When at dawn she sighs, and like an inwilled.

fant to the window

65 Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bub

Turns grave eyes craving light, released bling well-spring,

from dreams, Tell it to forget the source that keeps it | Beautiful she looks, like a white waterfilled.

lily, Stepping down the hill with her fair com

Bursting out of bud in havens of the

streams. panions, Arm in arm, all against the raying West,

When from bed she rises clothed from neck

to ankle Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches,

In her long nightgown sweet as boughs Brave is her shape, and sweeter un

of May,

Beautiful she looks, like a tall gardenpossessed. Sweeter, for she is what my heart first

lily, awaking

Pure from the night, and splendid for Whispered the world was; morning light

the day. is she. Love that so desires would fain keep her

Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twichangeless;

light, Fain would fling the net, and fain have

Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's

brim, her free.

Rounding on thy breast sings the dewHappy, happy time, when the white star delighted skylark,

75 hovers

Clear as though the dew-drops had their Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy voice in him. dew,


Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart rayless planet, the darkness,

Fountain-full he pours the spraying Threading it with color, like yewberries fountain-showers.

Let me hear her laughter, I would have her Thicker crowd the shades as the grave ever East deepens

Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud the flowers.

80 swells. Maiden still the morn is; and strange she | All the girls are out with their baskets for is, and secret;


the primrose; Strange her


her cheeks are cold as Up lanes, woods through, they troop in cold sea-shells.

joyful bands.



the yew.



My sweet leads: she knows not why, but Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my now she loiters,

sweetest? Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her Not while she sleeps: while she sleeps the hands.

jasmine breathes, Such a look will tell that the violets are Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry peeping,

85 jasmine Coming the rose; and unaware a cry Bears me to her pillow under white Springs in her bosom for odors and for rose-wreaths.

color, Covert and the nightingale; she knows Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grassnot why.


Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-gray Kerchiefed head and chin she darts be

leaf; tween her tulips,

Yellow with stonecrop; the moss-mounds Streaming like a willow gray in arrowy are yellow;

115 rain:


Blue-necked the wheat sways, yellowing Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and to the sheaf. their angel

Green-yellow, bursts from the copse the She will be; she lifts them, and on she laughing yaffle, speeds again.

Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade Black the driving raincloud breasts the and shine: iron gateway;

Earth in her heart laughs looking at the She is forth to cheer a neighbor lacking heavens, mirth.

Thinking of the harvest: I look and So when sky and grass met rolling dumb think of mine. for thunder

95 Saw I once a white dove, sole light of This I may know: her dressing and unearth.


Such a change of light shows as when Prim little scholars are the flowers of her

the skies in sport garden,

Shift from cloud to moonlight; or edging Trained to stand in rows, and asking over thunder if they please.

Slips a ray of sun; or sweeping into I might love them well but for loving more port the wild ones;

White sails furl; or on the ocean borO my wild ones! they tell me more than ders these.

White sails lean along the waves leaping You, my wild one, you tell of honied field

green. rose,

Visions of her shower before me,

but Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and from eyesight even as they,

Guarded she would be like the sun were They by the wayside are earnest of your

she seen. goodness, You are of life's on the banks that line Front door and back of the mossed old


Open with the morn, and in a breezy Peering at her chamber the white crowns link

130 the red rose,


Freshly sparkles garden to stripeJasmine winds the porch with stars two shadowed orchard, and three.

Green across a rill where on sand the Parted is the window; she sleeps; the minnows wink. starry jasmine

Busy in the grass the early sun of summer Breathes a falling breath that carries Swarms, and the blackbird's mellow thoughts of me.

fluting notes



the way.





Call my darling up with round and roguish Large and smoky red the sun's cold disk challenge:

135 drops, Quaintest, richest carol of all the sing- Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded ing throats!

Eastward large and still lights up a bower Cool was the woodside; cool as her white of moonrise, dairy

Whence at her leisure steps the moon Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there aglow. the boys from school,

Nightlong on black print-branches our Cricketing below, rushed brown and red beech-tree

165 with sunshine;

Gazes in this whiteness: nightlong could O the dark translucence of the deep- I. eyed cool!


Here may life on death or death on life be Spying from the farm, herself she fetched painted. a pitcher

Let me clasp her soul to know she canFull of milk, and tilted for each in turn not die!

the beak. Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tip- Gossips count her faults! they scour a nartoe,

row chamber Said, “I will kiss you:” she laughed, and Where there is no window, read not leaned her cheek.

heaven or her.

“When she was a tiny,” one aged woman Doves of the fir-wood walling high our quavers, red roof

145 Plucks at my heart and leads me by the Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo.

Faults she had once as she learned to run Loose droop the leaves, and down the and tumbled: sleepy roadway

Faults of feature some see, beauty not Sometimes pipes a chaffinch; loose complete. droops the blue.

Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the holy

175 river,

Earth and air, may have faults from Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and head to feet. fly,

150 Nowhere is she seen; and if I see her no- Hither she comes; she comes to me; she where,

lingers, Lightning may come, straight rains and Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in tiger sky.

new surprise

High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranO the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure- ger; armful!

Yet am I the light and living of her O the nutbrown tresses nodding inter- eyes.

180 laced!

Something friends have told her fills her O the treasure-tresses one another over 155 heart to brimming, Nodding! O the girdle slack about the Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, waist!

and tames.Slain are the poppies that shot their Sure of her haven, O like a dove alighting, random scarlet

Arms up, she dropped; our souls were in Quick amid the wheat-ears: wound

about the waist, Gathered, see these brides of Earth one Soon will she lie like a white frost sunblush of ripeness!


185 O the nutbrown tresses nodding inter- Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley laced!


pale as rye,

our names.

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