O tell me if it be not true
That o’er thy spirit sometimes grew
The blest foreboding, showing thee
That we were join’d by fate’s decree?
United, bliss was ours below,
But sever’d, nought is ours but woe.
In the great book ’tis written clearly
That we should love each other dearly.
Thy place should be upon my breast,
Here first awoke self-knowledge blest;
From out the realm of plants, with power
’Twas mine to free, to kiss thee, flower!—
Raise thee to me, to highest life,
’Twas mine to give thee soul, my wife.
Now, when reveal’d the riddles stand,
When in the hour-glass is the sand
Run out, weep not, ’tis order’d so—
Alone thou’lt wither, when I go;
Thou’lt wither, ere thou yet hast bloom’d,
Ere thou hast glow’d, be quench’d and doom’d;
Thou’lt die and be the prey of death
Ere thou hast learnt to draw thy breath.
I know it now. By heaven, ’tis thou
Whom I have loved. How bitter now,
The moment we are join’d for ever,
To find the hour when we must sever.
The welcome meanwhile must give way
To sad farewell. We part to-day
For evermore, for ’tis not given
To us to meet again in heaven.
Beauty to dust will fall at last,
Thou’lt pass away, and crumble fast.
The poets’ fate will happier be,
Death cannot kill them utterly.
Annihilation strikes us ne’er,
We live in poesy’s land so fair,
In Avalon, where fairies dwell—
Dear corpse, for ever fare thee well!
12. THE PHILANTHROPIST.
There once was a brother and sister,
The sister was poor, the brother was rich.
The poor one said to the rich one:
“Give me a piece of bread.”
The rich one said to the poor one:
“Leave me to-day in peace,
“While I give my yearly banquet
“To the lords of the Council all.
“The first doth turtlesoup relish,
“The second doth pineapples eat,
“The third is fond of pheasant
“And Perigord truffles too.
“The fourth eats nought but seafish,
“The fifth in salmon delights,
“The sixth of each dish eateth,
“And drinketh even more.”
The poor rejected sister
Went hungry back to her house;
She threw herself on her straw-bed,
And deeply sighed and died.