But at times there were gentler processions of peace I stole near the city, but stole covert-wise Like a wild beast of love, and perchance to be smitten Sang dreams in its ear of its manhood, while deep I return'd to a spot I had startled for ever, Though I oft long'd to know, but could ask it of none, For the haunters of fields they all shunn'd me by flight, The men in their horror, the women in fright; None ever remain'd save a child once that sported Among the wild bluebells, and playfully courted The breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay Tight strangled, because it had hiss'd him away From the flow'r at his finger; he rose and drew near Like a Son of Immortals, one born to no fear, But with strength of black locks and with eyes azure bright To grow to large manhood of merciful might. He came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel The hair of my side, and to lift up my heel, And question'd my face with wide eyes; but when under My lids he saw tears, for I wept at his wonder, He stroked me, and utter'd such kindliness then, That the once love of women, the friendship of men On my heart in its desolate day such as this! And I yearn'd at his cheeks in my love, and down bent, And lifted him up in my arms with intent To kiss him, but he cruel-kindly, alas! Held out to my lips a pluck'd handful of grass! Thus I wander'd, companion'd of grief and forlorn, To his son even such as he left him. Oh, how THE TWO PEACOCKS OF BEDFONT. I. ALAS! that breathing Vanity should go In novel flesh, clad in the silent boast Shedding its chilling superstition most II. Each Sabbath morning, at the hour of prayer, Shining, far distant, in the summer air That flaunts their dewy robes and breathes between Their downy plumes,-sailing as if they were Two far-off ships,-until they brush between The churchyard's humble walls, and watch and wait I III. And there they stand—with haughty necks before God's holy house, that points towards the skiesFrowning reluctant duty from the poor, And tempting homage from unthoughtful eyes: And Youth looks lingering from the temple door, Breathing its wishes in unfruitful sighs, With pouting lips,-forgetful of the grace, Of health, and smiles, on the heart-conscious face; IV. Because that wealth, which has no bliss beside, And those two sisters, in their silly pride, May change the soul's warm glances for the fire Of lifeless diamonds;-and for health deny'd,With art, that blushes at itself, inspire Their languid cheeks-and flourish in a glory That has no life in life, nor after-story. V. The aged priest goes shaking his grey hair Put on thy censure, that might win the praise VI. Also the solemn clerk partakes the shame Turns her pain'd head, but not her glance, aside VII. "I have a lily in the bloom at home," And when stiff silks are rustling up, and some ووو VIII. Then her meek partner, who has nearly run His earthly course,- "C Nay, Goody, let your text Grow in the garden.-We have only one Who knows that these dim eyes may see the next? Summer will come again, and summer sun, And lilies too, but I were sorely vext To mar my garden, and cut short the blow Of the last lily I may live to grow." |