New Poems | Page 7

content thereon and makes it fair,

Or constancy, and love, and makes it grand?
MUSIC AT THE VILLA MARINA
FOR some abiding central source of power,
Strong-smitten steady
chords, ye seem to flow
And, flowing, carry virtue. Far below,
The
vain tumultuous passions of the hour
Fleet fast and disappear; and as
the sun
Shines on the wake of tempests, there is cast
O'er all the
shattered ruins of my past
A strong contentment as of battles won.
And yet I cry in anguish, as I hear
The long drawn pageant of your
passage roll
Magnificently forth into the night.
To yon fair land ye
come from, to yon sphere
Of strength and love where now ye shape
your flight,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!
Ye have the power, if but ye had the will,
Strong-smitten steady
chords in sequence grand,
To bear me forth into that tranquil land

Where good is no more ravelled up with ill;
Where she and I, remote
upon some hill
Or by some quiet river's windless strand,
May live,
and love, and wander hand in hand,
And follow nature simply, and be
still.
From this grim world, where, sadly, prisoned, we
Sit bound with
others' heart-strings as with chains,
And, if one moves, all suffer, - to
that Goal,
If such a land, if such a sphere, there be,
Thither, from
life and all life's joys and pains,
O even wings of music, bear my
soul!
FEAR NOT, DEAR FRIEND, BUT FREELY LIVE YOUR DAYS
FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days
Though lesser lives

should suffer. Such am I,
A lesser life, that what is his of sky

Gladly would give for you, and what of praise.
Step, without trouble,
down the sunlit ways.
We that have touched your raiment, are made
whole
From all the selfish cankers of man's soul,
And we would see
you happy, dear, or die.
Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be
free;
Try all things resolutely, till the best,
Out of all lesser betters,
you shall find;
And we, who have learned greatness from you, we,

Your lovers, with a still, contented mind,
See you well anchored in
some port of rest.
LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE WILL
LET love go, if go she will.
Seek not, O fool, her wanton flight to
stay.
Of all she gives and takes away
The best remains behind her
still.
The best remains behind; in vain
Joy she may give and take again,

Joy she may take and leave us pain,
If yet she leave behind
The
constant mind
To meet all fortunes nobly, to endure
All things with
a good heart, and still be pure,
Still to be foremost in the foremost
cause,
And still be worthy of the love that was.
Love coming is
omnipotent indeed,
But not Love going. Let her go. The seed

Springs in the favouring Summer air, and grows,
And waxes strong;
and when the Summer goes,
Remains, a perfect tree.
Joy she may give and take again,
Joy she may take and leave us pain.

O Love, and what care we?
For one thing thou hast given, O Love,
one thing
Is ours that nothing can remove;
And as the King
discrowned is still a King,
The unhappy lover still preserves his love.
I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME KIN
I DO not fear to own me kin
To the glad clods in which spring
flowers begin;
Or to my brothers, the great trees,
That speak with
pleasant voices in the breeze,

Loud talkers with the winds that pass;


Or to my sister, the deep grass.
Of such I am, of such my body is,
That thrills to reach its lips to kiss.

That gives and takes with wind and sun and rain
And feels keen
pleasure to the point of pain.
Of such are these,
The brotherhood of stalwart trees,
The humble
family of flowers,
That make a light of shadowy bowers
Or star the
edges of the bent:
They give and take sweet colour and sweet scent;

They joy to shed themselves abroad;
And tree and flower and grass
and sod
Thrill and leap and live and sing
With silent voices in the
Spring.
Hence I not fear to yield my breath,
Since all is still unchanged by
death;
Since in some pleasant valley I may be,
Clod beside clod, or
tree by tree,
Long ages hence, with her I love this hour;
And feel a
lively joy to share
With her the sun and rain and air,
To taste her
quiet neighbourhood
As the dumb things of field and wood,
The
clod, the tree, and starry flower,
Alone of all things have the power.
I AM LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS HAD SATE
I AM like one that for long days had sate,
With seaward eyes set keen
against the gale,
On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,
The
portbound ships for one ship that was late;
And sail by sail, his heart
burned up with joy,
And cruelly was quenched, until at last
One
ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,
Bore gaily, and dropt safely
past the buoy;
And lo! the loved one was not there - was dead.
Then
would he watch no more; no more the sea
With myriad vessels, sail
by sail, perplex
His eyes