CL ECHO Come to me in the silence of the night; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finish'd years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimful of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live As long ago, my love, how long ago. C. G. Rossetti CLI GREATER MEMORY In the neart there lay buried for years Made a grave for the love in his heart, The long years pass'd weary and lone, In the shamed and the ruin'd love's stead, Love arose with a glorified face, Like an angel that comes from the dead. It uplifted the stone that was set On that tomb which the heart held yet; And there came from the long closed door The grief it was long wash'd away Like a dream left behind in the night; There was never the stain of a tear It was knowledge of all that had been 'Twas the word which the lips could not say To redeem and recover the past; It was more than was taken away The passion that lost its spell, With all that the heart would restore. And thenceforward the heart was a shrine A. O'Shaughnessy CLII I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless- Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air, Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls, as countries, lieth silent, bare, Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express In everlasting watch and moveless woe, E. B. Browning CLIII THE BROKEN HEART News o' grief had overteäken Or wringen tight, In ceäre that drown'd all ceäre bezide it. When a man, wi' heartless slightèn, What weight o' woe Do break the heart ov ev'ry griever. W. Barnes CLIV PARTING Too fair, I may not call thee mine: Those eyes with bridal beacons shine; Thou wilt be happy, dear! and bless Good-bye, dear heart! I go to dwell Our first kiss is our last farewell; Yet, Darling, keep for meWho wander outside in the night, One little corner of thy light. G. Massey CLV THE MAID'S LAMENT I loved him not; and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone. I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak, For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give Who lately lived for me, and when he found He hid his face amid the shades of death. Who wasted his for me: but mine returns, With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years Merciful God! Such was his latest prayer, These may she never share! Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, And, O, pray too for me! W. S. Landor CLVI LOVESIGHT When do I see thee most, beloved one? The worship of that Love through thee made known? |