Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure | Page 2

dark world returned
To Dante's page,
those wearied thoughts of mine;
Again I read, again my longing
burned.--
A voice melodious spake in every line,
But from sad
pleasure sorrow fresh I learned:
Strange was the music of the
Florentine.
LINES ON HEINE.

I saw a crowded circus once:
The fool was in the middle.
Loud
laughed contemptuous Common-sense
At every frisk and riddle.
I see another circus now--
(The world a circus call I),--
But in the
centre laughs the sane;
Round sit the sons of folly.
IMITATED FROM THE JAPANESE.
"..........................
I have forgotten to forget."--Japanese Song.
Tr. by R.H. Stoddard.
The morning flies, the evening dies;
The heat of noon, the chills of
night,
Are but the dull varieties
Of Phoebus' and of Phoebe's flight--

Are but the dull varieties
Of ruined night and ruined day;
They
bring no pleasure to mine eyes,
For I have sent my soul away.
I am the man who cannot love,
Yet once my heart was bright as thine,

The suns that rove, the moons that move,
No longer make its
chambers shine;
No more they light the spirit face
That lit my night
and made my day;
No maiden feet with mine keep pace
For I have
sent my soul away.
O, lost! I think I see thee stand,
By Mary's ivied chapel door,
Where
once thou stood'st, and with thy hand
Wring pious pain, as once
before.
Impatient, crude philosopher,
I scorned thy gentle wisdom's
ray.
All vain thy moistened eyelids were;
I sent my soul and thee
away.
A causeless wrath, a mood of pride,
Some tears of thine, and all was
done;
On alien plains I travelled wide
And thou wert soon a veiléd
nun.
Not long a veiléd nun, but soon
Unveiled of linen and of clay;

But I am March while thou art June,
For I have sent my soul away.
And now when I would love thee well,
There sits alone within my

breast
Calm guilt that dare not from its hell
Look up and wish the
thing thou art.
I see a dreadful gulf of fright
Beneath my falling life;
and gray,
Thy light becomes the ghost of light
Above it as it falls
away.
I have a life, a voice, a form,
A skilful hand to lift and turn,
I have
emotions like a storm,
A brain to throb, a heart to burn;
But that
which Jesus' blood can save,
Which looks toward eternal day,
Is
gone before me to the grave.--
It was my soul I sent away.
The past is past, and o'er its woe
It is no comfort to repine;
But I
would wage my life to know
Thy feet in heaven keep pace with mine.

I have no hope, I will not weep,
The only wish that wish I may
Is
this, that I may find asleep
The soul I thought I sent away.
THE KNIGHT ERRANT.
CLOUD TO WIND
O blow, blow high, for I descend;
Friend must
go to meet his friend,
If to earth you tie your feet
You and I will
never meet.
WIND
Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;
I exceed my usual gait.
Ha! this
hill-top is sublime,
But it makes me pant to climb.
CLOUD
Once again, a little space,
Meet we in this Alpine place,

Before you leap adown the vale
Or I along my pathway sail.
WIND
Then let our little bell of time
Ring onward with a chatty
chime--
How we have fled o'er earth and sky,
And what you saw
and what saw I.
CLOUD
O, I from off my couch serene,
Woods, meadows, towns
and seas have seen;

And in one wood, beside a cave,
A hermit
kneeling by a grave:--
The which I felt so touched to see
I wept a
shower of sympathy.
And in one mead I saw, methought,
A brave,

dark-armored knight, who fought
A shining-dragon in a mist,
That,
mixed with flames did roll and twist
Out of the beast's red mouth--a
breath
Of choking, blinding, sulphurous death,
On which I shot my
thickest rain
And made the conflict fair again.
And from one town I
heard the swell
Of a loud, melancholy bell,
That past me rose in
flames of sound
And up to Saint Cecilia wound.
And on one sea I
saw a ship
Bend out its full-fed sails and slip
So light, so gladly o'er
the tide
I could not help but look inside--
Its passengers were groom
and bride.
I floated o'er them snowily,
They felt my beauty in the
sky,
Their eyes, their souls, their joy were one,
I would not cross
their happy sun.
I love this life of calm and use--
No bonds but
windy ribbons loose,
No gifts to ask but all to give,
Secure Elysium
fugitive.
WIND
Your life, though, drinks not half the wine
Of active
gladness that doth mine;
I spread my wings and stretch my arms

Over a dozen hedgéd farms;
I breast steep hills, through pine-groves
rush,
Rock birds' nests, yet no fledgling crush,
Tossing the
grain-fields everywhere,
The trees, the grass, the school-girl's hair,

Whirling away her laugh the while--
(We breezes love the children's
smile);
And then I lag and wander down
Among the roofs and dust
of town,
Bearing cool draughts from lake and moor
To fan the faces
of the poor,
While sick babes, stifled half to death,
Grow rosy at my
country breath.
I lent a shoulder to your ship;

I moaned with that
sad hermit's lip;
I helped disperse the dragon's mist;
And