LL things I can endure, save one
The bare, blank room where is no sun; The parcelled hours; the pallet hard; The dreary faces here within; The outer women's cold regard; The Pastor's iterated "sin";— These things could I endure, and...
(AN
HO
OM A
ER
(To Sylvia
)My Love, my Love, it was a day in June,
A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon;
And all the eager people thronging
(From Lenau
)So late, and yet a nightingale
Long since have dropp'd the blossoms pale,
The summer fields are ripening, And yet a sound of spring
Most wonderful and strange it seems, that
Who but a little time ago was
High on the waves of passion and of pain,
With aching heat and wildly throbbing brain,
(In Memoriam
)They trod the streets and squares where now I tread,
With weary hearts, a little while ago;
When, thin and grey, the melancholy
On Bellosguardo, when the year was young,
We wandered, seeking for the
And dark anemone, whose purples
The peasant's plot, between the corn-shoots sprung
(From Lenau
)If within my heart there's mould,
If the flame of
And the flame of Love grow cold,
Put the sweet thoughts from out thy mind, The dreams from out thy breast;
No joy for thee—but thou shalt find Thy
All day I could not work for woe, I could not work nor rest;
The trouble drove me to and fro, Like a leaf on the storm...
What, have I waked again
I never
To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey,
Dull, solemn stillness, ere the dawn has come
I
She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings,
Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings
Brown nightingale, whose strain Is heard by day, by night,
Up those Museum steps you came,
And straightway all my blood was flame, O Lallie,
Lallie
The world (I had been feeling low)In one short moment's space did grow A happy valley