With many a curve my banks I fret, By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses:
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
THREE CHARACTERISTIC EPITAPHS.
[A Friend who read the epitaph prepared for his own tomb by the late Professor Clifford, was prompted to compose two others, which, with that of the Professor, is given below.]
I was not, and I was conceived;
I lived, and did a little work;
I am not, and I grieve not.
A drop of spray cast from the Infinite,
I hung an instant there, and threw my ray
To make the rainbow. A microcosm I,
Reflecting all. Then back I fell again:
And though I perished not, I was no more.
God willed: I was. What He had planned I wrought, That done, He called, and now I dwell with him.
SOUL of mine, look out and see
My bride, my bride that is to be!
Reach out with mad, impatient hands
And draw aside futurity
As one might draw a veil aside,
And so unveil her where she stands
Madonna-like and glorified-
The Queen of undiscovered lands
Of love, to where she beckons me
My bride, my bride that is to be.
The shadow of a willow tree
That wavers on a garden wall
In summer time may never fall
In attitude as gracefully
my fair bride that is to be;
Nor ever Autumn's leaves of brown
As lightly flutter to the lawn
As fall her fairy feet upon
The path of love she loiters down.
O'er drops of dew she walks, and yet
Not one may stain her sandal wet;
MY BRIDE THAT IS TO BE.
And she might dance upon the way,
Nor crush a single drop to spray,
So airy-like she seems to me
My bride, my bride that is to be.
I know not if her eyes are light
As summer skies, or dark as night—
I only know that they are dim
With mystery. In vain I peer
To make their hidden meaning clear,
While o'er their surface, like a tear
That ripples to the silken brim,
A look of longing seems to swim,
All warm and weary-like to me;
And then, as suddenly, my sight
Is blinded with a smile so bright,
Through folded lids I still may see
My bride, my bride that is to be.
Her face is like a night of June
Upon whose brow the crescent moon
Hangs pendent in a diadem
Of stars, with envy lighting them;
And, like a wild cascade, her hair
Floods neck and shoulder, arm and wrist,
Till only through the gleaming mist
I seem to see a siren there,
With lips of love and melody,
And open arms and heaving breast
Wherein I fling my soul to rest,
The while my heart cries hopelessly
For my fair bride that is to be.
Nay, foolish heart and blinded eyes,
My bride has need of no disguise-
But rather let her come to me
In such a form as bent above
My pillow when in infancy
I knew not anything but love.
Oh, let her come from out the lands
Of Womanhood--not fairy isles---
And let her come with woman's hands,
And woman's eyes of tears and smiles;
With woman's hopefulness and grace
Of patience lighting up her face;
And let her diadem be wrought
Of kindly deed and prayerful thought,
That ever over all distress
May beam the light of cheerfulness:
And let her feet be brave to fare
The labyrinths of doubt and care,
That following, my own may find
The path to heaven God designed-
Oh, let her come like this to me,
My bride, my bride that is to be.
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