Poems of George Meredith, vol 1 | Page 4

dairy cows?You see behind the clematis:?And such a favourite she is,?That when fatigued, and helter skelter,?Among them from her foes to shelter,?She dashes when the chase is over,?They'll close her in and give her cover,?And bend their horns against the hounds,?And low, and keep them out of bounds!?From the house dogs she dreads no harm,?And is good friends with all the farm,?Man, and bird, and beast, howbeit?Their natures seem so opposite.?And she is known for many a mile,?And noted for her splendid style,?For her clear leap and quick slight hoof;?Welcome she is in many a roof.?And if I say, I love her, man!?I say but little: her fine eyes full?Of memories of my girl, at Yule?And May-time, make her dearer than?Dumb brute to men has been, I think.?So dear I do not find her dumb.?I know her ways, her slightest wink,?So well; and to my hand she'll come,?Sidelong, for food or a caress,?Just like a loving human thing.?Nor can I help, I do confess,?Some touch of human sorrowing?To think there may be such a doubt?That from the next world she'll be shut out,?And parted from me! And well I mind?How, when my girl's last moments came,?Her soft eyes very soft and kind,?She joined her hands and prayed the same,?That she "might meet her father, mother,?Sister Bess, and each dear brother,?And with them, if it might be, one?Who was her last companion."?Meaning the fawn--the doe you mark -?For my bay mare was then a foal,?And time has passed since then:- but hark!'
For like the shrieking of a soul?Shut in a tomb, a darkened cry?Of inward-wailing agony?Surprised them, and all eyes on each?Fixed in the mute-appealing speech?Of self-reproachful apprehension:?Knowing not what to think or do:?But Joan, recovering first, broke through?The instantaneous suspension,?And knelt upon the ground, and guessed?The bitterness at a glance, and pressed?Into the comfort of her breast?The deep-throed quaking shape that drooped?In misery's wilful aggravation,?Before the farmer as he stooped,?Touched with accusing consternation:?Soothing her as she sobbed aloud:-?'Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!?Not me! God will not take me in!?Nothing can wipe away my sin!?I shall not see her: you will go;?You and all that she loves so:?Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!'?Colourless, her long black hair,?Like seaweed in a tempest tossed?Tangling astray, to Joan's care?She yielded like a creature lost:?Yielded, drooping toward the ground,?As doth a shape one half-hour drowned,?And heaved from sea with mast and spar,?All dark of its immortal star.?And on that tender heart, inured?To flatter basest grief, and fight?Despair upon the brink of night,?She suffered herself to sink, assured?Of refuge; and her ear inclined?To comfort; and her thoughts resigned?To counsel; her wild hair let brush?From off her weeping brows; and shook?With many little sobs that took?Deeper-drawn breaths, till into sighs,?Long sighs, they sank; and to the 'hush!'?Of Joan's gentle chide, she sought?Childlike to check them as she ought,?Looking up at her infantwise.?And Willie, gazing on them both,?Shivered with bliss through blood and brain,?To see the darling of his troth?Like a maternal angel strain?The sinful and the sinless child?At once on either breast, and there?In peace and promise reconciled?Unite them: nor could Nature's care?With subtler sweet beneficence?Have fed the springs of penitence,?Still keeping true, though harshly tried,?The vital prop of human pride.
BEAUTY ROHTRAUT (From Moricke)
What is the name of King Ringang's daughter??Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!?And what does she do the livelong day,?Since she dare not knit and spin alway??O hunting and fishing is ever her play!?And, heigh! that her huntsman I might be!?I'd hunt and fish right merrily!?Be silent, heart!
And it chanced that, after this some time, -?Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut, -?The boy in the Castle has gained access,?And a horse he has got and a huntsman's dress,?To hunt and to fish with the merry Princess;?And, O! that a king's son I might be!?Beauty Rohtraut I love so tenderly.?Hush! hush! my heart.
Under a grey old oak they sat,?Beauty, Beauty Rohtraut!?She laughs: 'Why look you so slyly at me??If you have heart enough, come, kiss me.'?Cried the breathless boy, 'kiss thee?'?But he thinks, kind fortune has favoured my youth;?And thrice he has kissed Beauty Rohtraut's mouth.?Down! down! mad heart.
Then slowly and silently they rode home, -?Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!?The boy was lost in his delight:?'And, wert thou Empress this very night,?I would not heed or feel the blight;?Ye thousand leaves of the wild wood wist?How Beauty Rohtraut's mouth I kiss'd.?Hush! hush! wild heart.'
THE OLIVE BRANCH
A dove flew with an Olive Branch;?It crossed the sea and reached the shore,?And on a ship about to launch?Dropped down the happy sign it bore.
'An omen' rang the glad acclaim!?The Captain stooped and picked it up,?'Be then the Olive Branch her name,'?Cried she who flung the christening cup.
The vessel took the laughing tides;?It was a joyous revelry?To see her dashing from her sides?The rough, salt kisses of the sea.
And forth into the