I leav't.
I thocht I'd serve wi' you, sirs, yince,?But I've thocht better of it since;?The maitter I will nowise mince,?But tell ye true:?I'll service wi' some ither prince,?An' no wi' you.
I've no been very deep, ye'll think,?Cam' delicately to the brink?An' when the water gart me shrink?Straucht took the rue,?An' didna stoop my fill to drink -?I own it true.
I kent on cape and isle, a light?Burnt fair an' clearly ilka night;?But at the service I took fright,?As sune's I saw,?An' being still a neophite?Gaed straucht awa'.
Anither course I now begin,?The weeg I'll cairry for my sin,?The court my voice shall echo in,?An' - wha can tell? -?Some ither day I may be yin?O' you mysel'.
THE RELIC TAKEN, WHAT AVAILS THE SHRINE?
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine??The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine,?Art thou not worse than that,?Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat?
Her image nestled closer at my heart?Than cherished memories, healed every smart?And warmed it more than wine?Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.
This was the little weather gleam that lit?The cloudy promontories - the real charm was?That gilded hills and woods?And walked beside me thro' the solitudes.
The sun is set. My heart is widowed now?Of that companion-thought. Alone I plough?The seas of life, and trace?A separate furrow far from her and grace.
ABOUT THE SHELTERED GARDEN GROUND
ABOUT the sheltered garden ground?The trees stand strangely still.?The vale ne'er seemed so deep before,?Nor yet so high the hill.
An awful sense of quietness,?A fulness of repose,?Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,?The silent garden rows.
As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse?Heard far across a plain,?A nearer knowledge of great thoughts?Thrills vaguely through my brain.
I lean my head upon my arm,?My heart's too full to think;?Like the roar of seas, upon my heart?Doth the morning stillness sink.
AFTER READING "ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA"
AS when the hunt by holt and field?Drives on with horn and strife,?Hunger of hopeless things pursues?Our spirits throughout life.
The sea's roar fills us aching full?Of objectless desire -?The sea's roar, and the white moon-shine,?And the reddening of the fire.
Who talks to me of reason now??It would be more delight?To have died in Cleopatra's arms?Than be alive to-night.
I KNOW NOT HOW, BUT AS I COUNT
I KNOW not how, but as I count?The beads of former years,?Old laughter catches in my throat?With the very feel of tears.
SPRING SONG
THE air was full of sun and birds,?The fresh air sparkled clearly.?Remembrance wakened in my heart?And I knew I loved her dearly.
The fallows and the leafless trees?And all my spirit tingled.?My earliest thought of love, and Spring's?First puff of perfume mingled.
In my still heart the thoughts awoke,?Came lone by lone together -?Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love?A mere affair of weather?
THE SUMMER SUN SHONE ROUND ME
THE summer sun shone round me,?The folded valley lay?In a stream of sun and odour,?That sultry summer day.
The tall trees stood in the sunlight?As still as still could be,?But the deep grass sighed and rustled?And bowed and beckoned me.
The deep grass moved and whispered?And bowed and brushed my face.?It whispered in the sunshine:?"The winter comes apace."
YOU LOOKED SO TEMPTING IN THE PEW
YOU looked so tempting in the pew,?You looked so sly and calm -?My trembling fingers played with yours?As both looked out the Psalm.
Your heart beat hard against my arm,?My foot to yours was set,?Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek?Whenever they two met.
O little, little we hearkened, dear,?And little, little cared,?Although the parson sermonised,?The congregation stared.
LOVE'S VICISSITUDES
AS Love and Hope together?Walk by me for a while,?Link-armed the ways they travel?For many a pleasant mile -?Link-armed and dumb they travel,?They sing not, but they smile.
Hope leaving, Love commences?To practise on the lute;?And as he sings and travels?With lingering, laggard foot,?Despair plays obligato?The sentimental flute.
Until in singing garments?Comes royally, at call -?Comes limber-hipped Indiff'rence?Free stepping, straight and tall -?Comes singing and lamenting,?The sweetest pipe of all.
DUDDINGSTONE
WITH caws and chirrupings, the woods?In this thin sun rejoice.?The Psalm seems but the little kirk?That sings with its own voice.
The cloud-rifts share their amber light?With the surface of the mere -?I think the very stones are glad?To feel each other near.
Once more my whole heart leaps and swells?And gushes o'er with glee;?The fingers of the sun and shade?Touch music stops in me.
Now fancy paints that bygone day?When you were here, my fair -?The whole lake rang with rapid skates?In the windless winter air.
You leaned to me, I leaned to you,?Our course was smooth as flight -?We steered - a heel-touch to the left,?A heel-touch to the right.
We swung our way through flying men,?Your hand lay fast in mine:?We saw the shifting crowd dispart,?The level ice-reach shine.
I swear by yon swan-travelled lake,?By yon calm hill above,?I swear had we been drowned that day?We had been drowned in love.
STOUT MARCHES LEAD TO CERTAIN ENDS
STOUT marches lead to certain ends,?We seek no Holy Grail, my
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