X. -Must a little weep, Love, And so fall asleep, Love, EVELYN HOPE. I. BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass; Little has yet been changed, I think: The shutters are shut, no light may pass Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink. II. Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares,- III. Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope? What, your soul was pure and true, The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire and dew And, just because I was thrice as old And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was nought to each, must I be told? IV. No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few: Ere the time be come for taking you. V. But the time will come,- at last it will, And your mouth of your own geranium's redAnd what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. VI. I have lived (I shall say) so much since then, Gained me the gains of various men, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes; Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, Either I missed or itself missed me: And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope! What is the issue? let us see! VII. I loved you, Evelyn, all the while! My heart seemed full as it could hold? There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold. So, hush, I will give you this leaf to keep: See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand! There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand. LOVE AMONG THE RUINS. I. WHERE the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop As they crop Was the site once of a city great and gay, (So they say) Of our country's very capital, its prince Ages since Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far II. Now, the country does not even boast a tree, As you see, To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills Intersect and give a name to, (else they run Into one) Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires Up like fires O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall Bounding all, Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed, Twelve abreast. III. And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads Every vestige of the city, guessed alone, Stock or stone- Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame And that glory and that shame alike, the gold IV. Now, the single little turret that remains By the caper overrooted, by the gourd Overscored, While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks Through the chinks Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time Sprang sublime, And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced And the monarch and his minions and his dames V. And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve To their folding, all our many tinkling fleece And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb Till I come. VI. But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades' Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts,-and then, All the men! When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, Either hand On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace Of my face, Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech |