English Poems | Page 9

MR. SWINBURNE'S
TRISTRAM OF
LYONESSE

Dear Heart, what thing may symbolise for us
A love like ours, what
gift, whate'er it be,
Hold more significance 'twixt thee and me
Than
paltry words a truth miraculous;
Or the poor signs that in astronomy

Tell giant splendours in their gleaming might:
Yet love would still
give such, as in delight
To mock their impotence--so this for thee.
This song for thee! our sweetest honeycomb
Of lovesome thought
and passion-hearted rhyme,
Builded of gold and kisses and desire,

By that wild poet who so many a time
Our hungering lips have
blessed, until a fire
Burnt speech up and the wordless hour had come.
COMFORT AT PARTING
O little Heart,
So much I see
Thy hidden smart,
So much I long

To sing some song
To comfort thee.
For, little Heart,
Indeed, indeed,
The hour to part
Makes cruel
speed;
Yet, dear, think thou
How even now,
With happy haste,

With eager feet,
The hour when we
Again shall meet
Cometh
across the waste.
HAPPY LETTER
Fly, little note,
And know no rest
Till warm you lie
Within that
nest
Which is her breast;
Though why to thee
Such joy should be

Who carest not,
While I must wait
Here desolate,
I cannot wot.

O what I 'd do
To come with you!
PRIMROSE AND VIOLET
Primrose and Violet--
May they help thee to forget

All that love
should not remember,
Sweet as meadows after rain
When the sun
has come again,
As woods awakened from December.
How they
wash the soul from stain!
How they set the spirit free!
Take them,
dear, and pray for me.

'JULIET AND HER ROMEO'
_(With Mr. Dicksee's Picture)_
Take 'this of Juliet and her Romeo,'
Dear Heart of mine, for though
yon budding sky
Yearns o'er Verona, and so long ago
That kiss was
kissed; yet surely Thou and I,
Surely it is, whom morning tears apart,

As ruthless men tear tendrilled ivy down:
Is not Verona warm
within thy gown,
And Mantua all the world save where thou art?
O happy grace of lovers of old time,
Living to love like gods, and
dead to live
Symbols and saints for us who follow them;
Even bitter
Death must sweets to lovers give:
See how they wear their tears for
diadem,
Throned on the star of an unshaken rhyme.
IN HER DIARY
Go, little book, and be the looking-glass
Of her dear soul,
The
mirror of her moments as they pass,
Keeping the whole;
Wherein
she still may look on yesterday
To-day to cheer,
And towards
To-morrow pass upon her way
Without a fear.
For yesterday hath
never won a crown,
However fair,
But that To-day a better for its
own
Might win and wear;
And yesterday hath never joyed a joy,

However sweet,
That this To-day or that To-morrow too
May not
repeat.
Think too, To-day is trustee for to-morrow,
And present
pain
That's bravely borne shall ease the future sorrow
Nor cry in
vain
'Spare us To-day, To-morrow bring the rod,'
For then again

To-morrow from To-morrow still shall borrow,
A little ease to gain:

But bear to-day whate'er To-day may bring,
'Tis the one way to
make To-morrow sing.
PARABLES
I

Dear Love, you ask if I be true,
If other women move
The heart that
only beats for you
With pulses all of love.
Out in the chilly dew one morn
I plucked a wild sweet rose,
A little
silver bud new-born
And longing to unclose.
I took it, loving new-born things,
I knew my heart was warm,
'O
little silver rose, come in
And shelter from the storm.'
And soon, against my body pressed,
I felt its petals part,
And,
looking down within my breast
I saw its golden heart.
O such a golden heart it has,
Your eyes may never see,
To others it
is always shut,
It opens but for me.
But that is why you see me pass
The honeysuckle there,
And leave
the lilies in the grass,
Although they be so fair;
Why the strange orchid half-accurst--
Circe of flowers she grows--

Can tempt me not: see! in my heart,
Silver and gold, my rose.
II
Deep in a hidden lane we were,
My little love and I;
When lo! as
we stood kissing there--
A flower against the sky!
Frail as a tear its beauty hung--
O spare it, little hand.
But
innocence like its, alas!
Desire may not withstand.
And so I clambered up the bank
And threw the blossom down,
But
we were sadder for its sake
As we walked back to town.
A LOVE-LETTER
Darling little woman, just a little line,
Just a little silver word
For
that dear gold of thine,
Only a whisper you have so often heard:

Only such a whisper as hidden in a shell
Holds a little breath of all
the mighty sea,
But think what a little of all its depth and swell,

And think what a little is this little note of me.
'Darling, I love thee, that is all I live for'--
There is the whisper
stealing from the shell,
But here is the ocean, O so deep and
boundless,
And each little wave with its whisper as well.
IN THE NIGHT
'Kiss me, dear Love!'--
But there was none to hear,
Only the
darkness round about my bed
And hollow silence, for thy face had
fled,
Though in my dreaming it had come so near.
I slept again and it came back to me,
Burning within the hollow arch
of night
Like some fair flame of sacrificial light,
And