742.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!

WALT WHITMAN

The Imprisoned Soul

T the last, tenderly,

AT

1819-1892

From the walls of the powerful, fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks-from the keep of the well-closed doors,

Let me be wafted.

Let me glide noiselessly forth;

With the key of softness unlock the locks—with a whisper Set ope the doors, O soul!

Tenderly! be not impatient!

(Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh!

Strong is your hold, O love!)

743. O Captain! My Captain!

O

CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning ; Here, Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

744.

JOHN RUSKIN

Trust Thou Thy Love

1819-1900

TRUST thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?
Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?
Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet;
Fail, Sun and Breath!—yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.

Where the dance is sweeping,
Through the greensward peeping,
Shall the soft lights start;
Laughing maids, unstaying,
Deeming it trick-playing,
High their robes upswaying,
O'er the lights shall dart;
And the woodland haunter
Shall not cease to saunter
When, far down some glade,
Of the great world's burning,
One soft flame upturning
Seems, to his discerning,
Crocus in the shade.

1820-1860

746.

FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON

At Her Window

BEATING Heart! we come again

Where my Love reposes:

This is Mabel's window-pane;
These are Mabel's roses.

Is she nested? Does she kneel

In the twilight stilly,
Lily clad from throat to heel,
She, my virgin Lily?

Soon the wan, the wistful stars,
Fading, will forsake her;
Elves of light, on beamy bars,
Whisper then, and wake her.

Let this friendly pebble plead
At her flowery grating;
If she hear me will she heed?
Mabel, I am waiting.

Mabel will be deck'd anon,

Zoned in bride's apparel;
Happy zone! O hark to yon
Passion-shaken carol!

Sing thy song, thou tranced thrush,
Pipe thy best, thy clearest ;-
Hush, her lattice moves, O hush-
Dearest Mabel!-dearest

1821-1895

747.

Сс

MATTHEW ARNOLD

The Forsaken Merman

COME, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below.

Now my brothers call from the bay;
Now the great winds shoreward blow;
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away.
This way, this way!

Call her once before you go.
Call once yet.

In a voice that she will know:

Margaret! Margaret !'

Children's voices should be dear

(Call once more) to a mother's ear;
Children's voices, wild with pain.
Surely she will come again.
Call her once and come away.
This way, this way!

'Mother dear, we cannot stay.'

The wild white horses foam and fret.
Margaret! Margaret !

Come, dear children, come away down.

Call no more.

One last look at the white-wall'd town,

1822-1888

And the little grey church on the windy shore.
Then come down.

She will not come though you call all day.
Come away, come away.