I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
‘ASK, IS LOVE DIVINE’
Ask, is Love divine,
Voices all are, ay.
Question for the sign,
There’s a common sigh.
Would we, through our years,
Love forego,
Quit of scars and tears?
Ah, but no, no, no!
‘JOY IS FLEET’
Joy is fleet,
Sorrow slow.
Love, so sweet,
Sorrow will sow.
Love, that has flown
Ere day’s decline,
Love to have known,
Sorrow, be mine!
THE LESSON OF GRIEF
Not ere the bitter herb we taste,
Which ages thought of happy times,
To plant us in a weeping waste,
Rings with our fellows this one heart
Accordant chimes.
When I had shed my glad year’s leaf,
I did believe I stood alone,
Till that great company of Grief
Taught me to know this craving heart
For not my own.
WIND ON THE LYRE
That was the chirp of Ariel
You heard, as overhead it flew,
The farther going more to dwell,
And wing our green to wed our blue;
But whether note of joy or knell,
Not his own Father-singer knew;
Nor yet can any mortal tell,
Save only how it shivers through;
The breast of us a sounded shell,
The blood of us a lighted dew.