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There's not a maiden in your hall,
Though tired and sleepy ever so,
But wakes, as you my name recall,
And longs the history to know.
And, as the piteous tale is said,
Of lady cold and lover true,
Each, musing, carries it to bed,
And sighs and envies you!

"Our lady's old and feeble now,"

They'll say: "she once was fresh and fair,
And yet she spurned her lover's vow,
And heartless left him to despair:
The lover lies in silent earth,

No kindly mate the lady cheers;
She sits beside a lonely hearth,

With threescore and ten years!"

Ah! dreary thoughts and dreams are those,
But wherefore yield me to despair,

While yet the poet's bosom glows,

While yet the dame is peerless fair! Sweet lady mine! while yet 'tis time Requite my passion and my truth, And gather in their blushing prime

The roses of your youth!

William Makepeace Thackeray [1811-1863]

"WHEN YOU ARE OLD"

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

Love in a Life

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

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YOU'LL love me yet!-and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.

I plant a heartfull now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,

And yield-what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.

You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:

Your look? that pays a thousand pains.

What's death? You'll love me yet!

637

Robert Browning (1812-1889]

ROOм after room,

LOVE IN A LIFE

I hunt the house through

We inhabit together.

Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her-
Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her

Left in the curtain, the couch's perfume!

As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed anew: Yon looking-glass gleamed at the wave of her feather. )

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Range the wide house from the wing to the center, DI

Still the same chance! she goes out as I enter.
Spend my whole day in the quest,-who cares?
But 'tis twilight, you see,
Such closets to search, such

with such suites to explore,
alcoves to importune!
Robert Browning [1812-1889]

LIFE IN A LOVE

ESCAPE me?

Never

Beloved!

While I am I, and you are you,

So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,

While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:

It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And, baffled, get up and begin again,—

So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound
At me so deep in the dust and dark,

No sooner the old hope drops to ground

Than a new one, straight to the self-same mark,
I shape me-

Ever

Removed!

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

THE WELCOME

COME in the evening, or come in the morning;

Come when you're looked for, or come without warning:
Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!

Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;

Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;

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Urania

The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"

639

I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them,—
Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom;
I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;
I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you.
Oh! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmer,
Or saber and shield to a knight without armor;

I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me,
Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love me.

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We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie;
We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy;
We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river,
Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her:
Oh! she'll whisper you-"Love, as unchangeably beaming,
And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming;
Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver,
As our souls flow in one down eternity's river."

So come in the evening, or come in the morning;

Come when you're looked for, or come without warning:
Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,

And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"
Thomas Osborne Davis [1814-1845]. .

URANIA

She smiles and smiles, and will not sigh,
While we for hopeless passion die;
Yet she could love, those eyes declare,
Were but men nobler than they are.

Eagerly once her gracious ken i
Was turned upon the sons of men;

But light the serious visage grew

She looked, and smiled, and saw them through.

Our petty souls, cur strutting wits,
Our labored, puny passion-fits-
Ah, may she scorn them still, till we
Scorn them as bitterly as she!

Yet show her once, ye heavenly Powers,
One of some worthier race than ours!·
One for whose sake she once might prove
How deeply she who scorns can love.

His eyes be like the starry lights;
His voice like sounds of summer nights;
In all his lovely mien let pierce
The magic of the universe!

And she to him will reach her hand,
And gazing in his eyes will stand,

And know her friend, and weep for glee,
And cry, Long, long I've looked for thee!

Then will she weep-with smiles, till then
Coldly she mocks the sons of men.
Till then her lovely eyes maintain

Their pure, unwavering, deep disdain.

Matthew Arnold (1822-1888]

THREE SHADOWS

I LOOKED and saw your eyes in the shadow of your hair,

As a traveler sees the stream in the shadow of the wood;And I said, "My faint heart sighs, ah me! to linger there, To drink deep and to dream in that sweet solitude."

I looked and saw your heart in the shadow of your eyes, As a seeker sees the gold in the shadow of the stream; And I said, "Ah, me! what art should win the immortal

prize,

Whose want must make life cold and Heaven a hollow dream?"

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