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LOVE-LILY
SETYEES the hands, between the brows,

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A Sonnet is a moment's monument,-
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that

it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
Of its own arduous fulness reverent:
Carve it in ivory or in ebony,
As Day or Night may rule; and let

Time see Its flowering crest impearled and orient. A Sonnet is a coin : its face rereals The Soul,-its converse, to what Power

'tis due:-Whether for tribute to the angust appeals Of Life, or dower in Love's high retime, It serve; or 'mid the dark uharj's cav

ernous breath. In Charon's pulm it pay the toll to

Death.

As when desire, long darkling, dawns,

and first The mother looks upon the new-born

child, Even so iny Lady stood at gaze and

smiled When her soul knew at length the Love

it murs d. Born with her life, creature of poignant

thirst And exquisite hunger, at her heart

Love lay Quickening in darkness, till a voice that

day Cried on him, and the bones of birth

were burst. Now, shadowed by his wings, our faces

Vearn

Together, as his fullgrown feet now

range The grove, and his warm hands our

couch prepare : Till to his song our bodiless souls in turn Be born his children, when Death's nup

tial change Leaves us for light the halo of his hair.

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With thee; nor even so sad and poor a

heart
As thou hast spurned to-day.

To-day? Lo! night is here.
The glen grows heavy with some veil
Risen from the earth or fall’n to make

earth pale ; And all stands hushed to eye and ear, Until the night-wind shake the shade

like fear
And every covert quail.

Ah! by another wave
On other airs the hour must come
Which to thy heart, my love, shall call

me home. Between the lips of the low cave Against that night the lapping waters

lave,
And the dark lips are dumb.

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But there Love's self doth stand. And with Life's weary wings far flown And with Death's eyes that make

water moan,
Gathers the water in his han,
And they that drink know

sky or land
But only love alon.

But oh! when now her foot Draws near, for whose sake night and

day Were long in weary longing sighed

away, The hour of Love, 'mid airs grown

mute, Shall sing beside the door, and Love's

own lute
Thrill to the passionate lay.

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Thou kpow'st, for Love has told Within thine ear, O stream, how soon That song shall lift its sweet appointed

tune.
O tell me, for my lips are cold,
And in my veins the blood is war

old
Even while I beg the boon.

So, in that hour of sigri Assuaged, shall we besii Yield thanks for grae:

mirror shown The twofold image Until we kiss, and each in

Is imaged all alone.

Still silent? Can no art Of Love's then move thy pity ? Nay, To thee let nothing come that owns his

sway : Let happy lovers have no part

At wa

And w

thin the voice, within the heart, Vithin the mind of Love-Lily, -pirit is born who lifts apart lis tremulous wings and looks at me; ho on my mouth his finger lays, And shows, while whispering lutes

confer, at Eden of Love's watered ways Whose winds and spirits worship her. ows, hands, and lips, heart, mind,

and voice, Kisses and words of Love-Lily,h! bid me with your joy rejoice Till riotous longing rest in me! h! let not hope be still distraught, But find in her its gracious goal, Those speech Truth knows not from

her thought Xor Love her body from her soul.

1870.

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THE HOUSE OF LIFE

THE SONNET

A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Vemorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that

it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
Of its oun arduous fulness reverent:
Carve it in ivory or in ebony,
As Day or Night may rule; and let

Time see Its flowering crest impearled and orient. A Sonnet is a coin : its face rereals The Soul,--its converse, to what Power

'tis due:Whether for tribute to the angust appeals Of Life, or dower in Love's high retime, It serve ; or 'mid the dark uharj's cav

ernous breath. In Charon's pulm it pay the toll to

Death.

As when desire, long darkling, dawns,

and first The mother looks upon the new-born

child, Even so my Lady stool at gaze and

smiled When her soul knew at length the Love

it nursid. Born with her life, creature of poignant

thirst And exquisite hunger, at her heart

Love lay Quickening in darkness, till a voice that

day Cried on him, and the bonds of birth

were burst. Now, shadowed by his wings, our faces

vearn Together, as his fullgrown feet now

range The grove, and his warm hands our

couch prepare : Till to his song our bodiless souls in turn Be horn his children, when Death's nup

tial change Leaves us for light the halo of his hair.

PART I. YOUTH AND CHANGE

III.

LOVE'S TESTAMENT

I.

LOVE ENTHRONED

I MARKED all kindred Powers the heart

finds fair :Truth, with awed lips ; and Hope, with

eyes upcast; And Fame, whose loud wings fan the

ashen Past To signal-fires, Oblivion's flight to scare ; And Youth, with still some single golden

bair

O THOU who at Love's hour ecstatically Unto my heart dost ever more present. Clothed with his fire, thy heart his tes

tament; Whom I have neared and felt thy breath

to be The inmost incense of his sanctuary : Who without speech hast owned him,

and, intent Upon his will, thy life with mine hast

blent,

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And gold-tipped darts he hath for pain

less play In idle scornful hours he flings away ; And some that listen to his lute's soft

tone Do love to vaunt the silver praise their

own ; Some prize his blindfold sight; and

there be they Who kissed his wings which brought

him yesterday And thank his wings to-day that he is

flown. My lady only loves the heart of Love : Therefore Love's heart, my lady, hath

for thee His bower of unimagined flower and

tree : There kneels he now, and all-anhun

gered of Thine eyes gray-lit in shadowing hair

above, Seals with thy mouth his immortality.

IX. PASSION AND WORSHIP ONE Mame-winged brought a white

winged harp-player Even where my lady and I lay all alone; Saying : “ Behold, this minstrel is un

known ; Bid him depart, for I am minstrel here: Only my strains are to Love's dear ones

dear." Then said I : “ Through thine hautboy's

rapturous tone Unto my lady still this harp makes

moan, And still she deems the cadence deep

and clear." Then said my lady: “ Thou art Passion

of Love, And this Love's Worship : both he

plights to me. Thy mastering music walks the sunlit But where wan water trembles in the

grove And the wan moon is all the light there

of, This harp still makes my name its vol

untary."

WHEN do I see thee most, beloved one? When in the light the spirits of mine eyes Before thy face, their altar, solemnize The worship of that Love through thee

made known ? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two

alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage

lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own? O love, my love! if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of

thee, Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, How then should sound

darkening slope The ground-whirl of the perished leaves

of Hope, The wind of Death's imperishable wing?

v. HEART'S HOPE By what word's power, the key of paths

untrod, Shall I the difficult deeps of Love explore, Till parted waves of Song yield up the

shore Even as that sea which Israel crossed

dryshod? For lo! in some poor rhythmic period, Lady, I fain would tell how evermore Thy soul I know not from thy body, Jor Thee from myself, neither our love from

God. Yea, in God's name, and Love's, and

thine, would I Draw from one loving heart such

evidence As to all hearts all things shall signify ; Tender as dawn's first hill-fire, and in

tense As instantaneous penetrating sense, In Spring's birth-hour, of other Springs

gone by.

upon Life's

sea :

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