Poets From England

"Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys. I do not know what I was playing, Or what I was dreaming then; But I struck one chord of music, Like the sound of a great Amen."

"It quieted pain and sorrow, Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life."

"I wept that all must die — "Yet Love," I cried, "doth live, and conquer death —" And Time passed by, And breathed on Love, and killed it with his breath Ere Death was nigh.More bitter far than all It was to know that Love could change and die — Hush! for the ages call "The Love of God lives through eternity, And conquers all!""

"I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, Which came from the soul of the Organ, And entered into mine.It may be that Death's bright angel Will speak in that chord again, It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen."

"A little longer still, and Heaven awaits thee, And fills thy spirit with a great delight; Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten, Our Sun a darkness, and our Day a Night."

"Hours are golden links, God's token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done."

"A little longer, and thy Heart, Belovèd, Shall beat for ever with a Love divine; And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal, No creature knows and lives, will then be thine.A little longer yet — and angel voices Shall ring in heavenly chant upon thine ear; Angels and Saints await thee, and God needs thee: Beloved, can we bid thee linger here!"

"Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain."

"Be strong to hope, O Heart! Though day is bright, The stars can only shine In the dark night. Be strong, O Heart of mine, Look towards the light!"

"Be strong to love, O Heart! Love knows not wrong; Didst thou love — creatures even, Life were not long; Didst thou love God in heaven, Thou wouldst be strong!"

"Know, dear little one! our Father Will no gentle deed disdain: Love on the cold earth beginning Lives divine in Heaven again, While the angel hearts that beat there Still all tender thoughts retain."

"Shine, ye stars of heaven, On a world of pain! See old Time destroying All our hoarded gain; All our sweetest flowers, Every stately shrine, All our hard-earned glory, Every dream divine! Shine, ye stare of heaven, On the rolling years! See how Time, consoling, Dries the saddest tears, Bids the darkest storm-clouds Pass in gentle rain, While upspring in glory Flowers and dreams again!"

"Words are mighty, words are living: Serpents with their venomous stings, Or bright angels, crowding round us, With heaven's light upon their wings: Every word has its own spirit, True or false, that never dies; Every word man's lips have uttered Echoes in God's skies."

"I do not ask my cross to understand My way to see: Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand And follow Thee."

"A little longer yet — a little longer, Shall violets bloom for thee, and sweet birds sing; And the lime branches where soft winds are blowing, Shall murmur the sweet promise of the Spring!"

"If thou couldst trust, poor soul! In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest; Wisdom and sight are well, but trust is best."

"Grant me the power of saying things Too simple and too sweet for words!"

"Strong passions mean weak will, and he Who truly knows the strength and bliss Which are in love, will own with me No passion but a virtue 'tis."

"How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When Memory plays an old tune on the heart."

"Better build school-rooms for "the boy," Than cells and gibbets for "the man.""

"On what strange stuff Ambition feeds."

"I love it, I love it; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?"

"Oh, where is man— That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator— The interpreter of all her mystic strains — Shall he be mute in Nature's jubilee?"

"Mortal! fear no more,— The reign is past of ancient violence; And Jove hath sworn that time shall not deface, Nor death destroy, nor mutability Perplex the truth of love."

"Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awakes her aged sire, On tiptoe stealing, whisper in his ear The tidings of the young god's victory."

"O, saw ye the lass wi’ the bonnie blue een? Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen, Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween, She ’s the loveliest lassie that trips on the green."

"With all your music, loud and lustily, With every dainty joy of sight and smell, Prepare a banquet meet to entertain The Lord of Thunder, that hath set you free From old oppression."

"He grew, and grew, A star-bright sign of fated empery; And all conspiring omens led him on To lofty purpose and pre-eminence. The mountain eagles, towering in their pride, Stoop'd at his beck and flock'd about his path, Like the small birds by wintry famine tamed; Or with their dusky and expansive wings Shaded and fann'd him as he slept at noon. The lightnings danced before him sportively, And shone innocuous as the pale cold moon In the clear blue of his celestial eye."

"The glad sons of the deliver'd earth Shall yearly raise their multitudinous voice, Hymning great Jove, the God of Liberty! Then he grew proud, yet gentle in his pride, And full of tears, which well became his youth, As showers do spring. For he was quickly moved, And joy'd to hear sad stories that we told Of what we saw on earth, of death and woe, And all the waste of time. Then would he swear That he would conquer time; that in his reign It never should be winter; he would have No pain, no growing old, no death at all. And that the pretty damsels, whom we said He must not love, for they would die and leave him, Should evermore be young and beautiful; Or, if they must go, they should come again, Like as the flowers did. Thus he used to prate, Till we almost believed him."

"What were Jove himself If pity had not been? Was not he once A hapless babe, condemn'd to die ere born?"

"Aye, ye were blest with folly. Who may tell What strange conceits upon the earth were sown And gender'd by the fond garrulity Of your aereal music? Scatter'd notes, Half heard, half fancied by the erring sense Of man, on which they fell like downy seeds Sown by autumnal winds, grew up, and teem'd With plenteous madness."

"Horsed upon hippogriffs, the hags of night Shall come to visit me; and once an age Some desperate wight, or wizard, gaunt and grey, Shall seek this spot by help of hidden lore, To ask of things forgotten or to come. But who, beholding me, shall dare defy The wrath of Jove? Since vain is wisdom's boast, And impotent the knowledge that o'erleaps The dusky bourne of time. Twere better far That gods should quaff their nectar merrily, And men sing out the day like grasshoppers, So may they haply lull the watchful thunder."

"Go your way. Forget Prometheus, And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear; By his own choice this vile estate preferring To ignorant bliss and unfelt slavery."

"There is a dark foreboding in thy speech; Thine eyes flash fearfully a moody joy That augurs a new downfall. Whence arise These desperate hopes, that seem to make thee fond Of lowest misery?"

"Jove is not one half so merciless As thou art to thyself. But fare thee well; Our love is all as stubborn as thy pride, And swift as firm."

"Are we not bold to bid a god repent; To break upon his slumbers with our prayers; To watch him day and night; to wear him out With endless supplication? Perhaps to beg His kind attention to a pleasant tale; To cheat him into pity, and conclude Each story with Prometheus?"

"Sweet were change, If but a change of tortures! But to grow A motionless rock, fast as my strong prison, Age after age, till circling suns outnumber The sands upon the tide-worn beach! No hope, Or that sad mockery of hope that fools With dull despair, spanning the infinite! Torment unmeasurable!"

"Never till this day Did life disturb the dense eternity Of joyless quiet; never skylark's song, Or storm-bird's prescient scream, or eaglet's cry, Made vital the gross fog. The very light Is but an alien that can find no welcome"

"Gentle powers, forbear! Twere worse than all my miseries foreseen Should my huge wreck suck down the friendly skiffs That proffer'd aid. Oh! would that Jupiter Had hurl'd me to the deep of Erebus, Where neither god nor man might pity me."

"I know it all — All ye would ask. But ne'er shall hope be mine Till the dread secret works its fatal will In daylight visible, with wrath and scorn, And ceaseless memory of forgotten things. Then Jove shall learn what all his sulphurous bolts, Soul-piercing torments, earthquakes, fiery plagues, Disease, and loathsome, black deformity, And all confounding shame, shall ne'er persuade My voice to utter."

"Now, we are agreed, I and my destinies. The total world, — Above, below, whate'er is seen or known, And all that men, and all that gods enact, Hopes, fears, imaginations, purposes; With joy, and pain, and every pulse that beats In the great body of the universe, I give to the eternal sisterhood, To make my peace withal! And cast this husk, This hated, mangled, and dishonour'd carcase Into the balance; so have I redeem'd My proper birthright, even the changeless mind, The imperishable essence uncontroll'd."

"Hard I strove To put away my immortality, Till my collected spirits swell'd my heart Almost to bursting; but the strife is past. It is a fearful thing to be a god, And, like a god, endure a mortal's pain; To be a show for earth and wondering heaven To gaze and shudder at! But I will live, That Jove may know there is a deathless soul Who ne'er will be his subject. Yes, 'tis past. The stedfast Fates confess my absolute will,— Their own co-equal."

"Now shall I become a common tale, A ruin'd fragment of a worn-out world; Unchanging record of unceasing change. Eternal landmark to the tide of time. Swift generations, that forget each other, Shall still keep up the memory of my shame Till I am grown an unbelieved fable."

"On this hapless earth There ’s small sincerity of mirth, And laughter oft is but an art To drown the outcry of the heart."

"She is not fair to outward view As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me: Oh! then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love, a spring of light."

"The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed center. Like that ark, Which in its sacred hold uplifted high, O'er the drowned hills, the human family, And stock reserved of every living kind, So, in the compass of the single mind, The seeds and pregnant forms in essence lie, That make all worlds. Great poet, 'twas thy art To know thyself, and in thyself to be Whate'er Love, Hate, Ambition, Destiny, Or the firm, fatal purpose of the Heart Can make of Man. Yet thou wert still the same, Serene of thought, unhurt by thy own flame."

"Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are."

"Ask me no more, where those stars light, That downwards fall in dead of night; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become, as in their sphere."

"Ask me no more, if east or west, The phenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies."

"Our love was nature; and the peace that floated On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills, To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills: One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted, That, wisely doating, ask'd not why it doated. And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills. But now I find how dear thou wert to me; That man is more than half of nature's treasure, Of that fair beauty which no eye can see, Of that sweet music which no ear can measure; And now the streams may sing for other's pleasure, The hills sleep on in their eternity."