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Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams?

So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life;

That I, considering everywhere . Her secret meaning in her deeds,

And finding that of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear,

I falter where I firmly trod,

And falling with my weight of cares

Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to God,

I stretch lame hands of faith, and


And" gather dust and chaff, and call

To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.

[From In Memoriam,]


I SHALL not see thee. Dare I say
No spirit ever brake the band
That stays him from the native

Where first he walked when claspt in clay?

No visual shade of some one lost, but he, the Spirit himself, may come

Where all the nerve of sense is numb

Spirit to spirit, ghost to ghost.

Oh, therefore from thy sightless range

With gods in nnconjectnred bliss, Oh, from the distance of the abyss Of tenfold complicated change,

Descend, and touch, and enter: hear The wish too strong for words to name;

That in this blindness of the frame My ghost may feel that thine is near.

[From In Memoriam.]


How pure at heart and sound in head,

With what divine affections bold, should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead.

In vain ah alt thou, or any, call
The spirits from their golden day,
Except, like them, thou too canst

My spirit is at peace w ith all.

They haunt the silence of the breast,

Imagination calm and fair,
The memory like a cloudless air,
The conscience as a sea at rest:

But when the heart is full of din,
And Doubt beside the portal waits,
They can but listen at the gates,

And hear the household jar within.

[From In Memoriam.]

Perpi.ext in faith, but pure in deeds,
At last he beat his music out.
There lives more faith in honest

Believe me, than in half the creeds.

He fought his doubts and gathered strength, He would not make his judgment blind,

He faced the spectres of the mind And laid them: thus he came at length

To find a stronger faith his own: And Power was with him in the night,

Which makes the darkness and the


And dwells not in the light alone.

But in the darkness and the cloud,
As over Sinai's peaks of old,
While Israel made their gods of

Although the trumpet blew so loud.

[From In Afemoriam.]

Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
So far, so near in woe and weal:
(J loved the most, when most I feel

There is a lower and a higher;

Known and unknown: human, divine:

Sweet human hand and lips and


Dear heavenly friend that canst not die.

Mine, mine, forever, ever mine;

Strange friend, past, present, and to


Love deeplier, darklier understood: Behold, I dream a dream of good, And mingle all the world with thee.

Thy voice is on the rolling air:
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,

And in the setting thou art fair.

What art t hou then? I cannot guess; But though I seem in star and flower

To feel thee some diffusive power, I do not therefore love thee less:

My love involves the love before:
My love is vaster passion now;
Though mixed with God and Na-
ture thou.

I seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh:
I have thee still, and I rejoice:
I prosper, circled with thy voice:

I shall not lose thee though I die.

[from In Memoriam,]

RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife:
Ring in the noblermodes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times: Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

The civic slander and the spite: Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease: Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the ki ndlier hand: Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

[From The Princess.]


Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy autumn fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,

That brings our friends up from the

underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over


That sinks with all we love below the verge:

So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds

To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square: So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after


And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned

On lips that are for others; deep as love,

Deep as first love, and wild with all regret:

O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

[From The Princess.]

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:

All her maidens, watching, said, "She must weep or she will die."

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,

Truest friend and noblest foe:
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place.

Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face:

Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears —

"Sweet my child, I live for thee."

[From The Princess.]

As through the land at eve we went,

And plucked the ripest ears,
We fell out, my wife and I,
Oh, we fell out, I know not why,
And kissed again with tears.

For when we came where lies the child

We lost in other years,
There above the little grave,
Oh, there above the little grave,

We kissed again with tears.

(From The Princess.]


The splendor falls on castle walls

And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle: answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

Oh, hark, oh, hear! how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going! Oh, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:

Blow, bugle: answer echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

And answer echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

[From The Princess,]


Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,

And slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip

Into my bosom and be lost in me.

[From The Princess.]


For woman is not undeveloped man, But diverse: could we make her as the man.

Sweet love were slain: his dearest

bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they


The man be more of woman, she of man:

He gain in sweetness and in moral height,

Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world;

She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care,

Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind;

Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words: And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time.

Sit side by side, full-summed in all

their powers, Dispensing harvest,sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing


Distinct in individualities, But like each other even as those who love.

[From The Princess.]

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea. Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon:

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep,

[From The Princess.]

Ask me no more: the moon may

draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from heaven

and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or

of cape:

But O too fond, when have I answered thee?

Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: What answer should I give? I love not hollow cheek or faded


Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!

Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live:

Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are sealed: I strove against the stream and all

, in vain: Let the great river take me to the main:

No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield:

Ask me no more.

[From The Miller's Daughter.]

Love that hath us in the net,
Can he pass, and we forget?
Many suns arise and set.
Many a chance the years beget.
Love the gift is Love the debt,
Even so.

Love is hurt with jar and fret.
Love is made a vague regret.
Eyes with idle tears are wet.
Idle habit links us yet.
What is love ? for we forget:
Ah, no! no!

[From The Miller's Daughter.)

Look through mine eyes with thine.
True wife,
Round my true heart thine arms
My other dearer life in life,
Look through my very soul with

Untouched with any shade of years. May those kind eyes forever dwell!

They have not shed a many tears, Dear eyes, since first I knew them

Yet tears they shed: they had their part

Of sorrow: for when time was ripe.

The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type,

That into stillness passed again, And left a want unknown before:

Although the loss that brought us pain,

That loss but made us love the more,

With farther lookings on. The kiss,

The woven arms, seem but to be Weak symbols of the settled bliss.

The comfort. I have found in thee: But that God bless thee, dear — who wrought Two spirits to one equal mind — With blessings beyond hope or thought,

With blessings which no words,
can find.

Arise, and let us wander forth,
To yon old mill across the wolds;

For look, the sunset, south and north,
Winds all the vale in rosy folds,

And fires your narrow casement glass,

Touching the sullen pool below: On the chalk-hill the bearded grass Is dry and dewless, let us go.

[From The Miller's Daughter.]

It is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel

That trembles at her ear:
For hid in ringlets day and night,
I'd touch her neck so warm and white.

And I would be the girdle
About her dainty, dainty waist,

And her heart would beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest:

And I should know if it beat right,

I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

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