Again I hear you piping, for I know the tune so well,—
You rouse the heart to wander and be free,
Tho’ where you learned your music, not the God of song can tell,
For you pipe the open highway and the sea.
O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,
Tho’ your music thrills and pierces far and near,
I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,
For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.
You sound the note of travel through the hamlet and the town;
You would lure the holy angels from on high;
And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down
And is off to see the countries ere he die.
But now no more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;
By my love, you find me safely sitting here:
And pipe you ne’er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills away,
You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.
TO MRS. MACMARLAND
In Schnee der Alpen—so it runs
To those divine accords—and here
We dwell in Alpine snows and suns,
A motley crew, for half the year:
A motley crew, we dwell to taste—
A shivering band in hope and fear—
That sun upon the snowy waste,
That Alpine ether cold and clear.
Up from the laboured plains, and up
From low sea-levels, we arise
To drink of that diviner cup
The rarer air, the clearer skies;
For, as the great, old, godly King
From mankind’s turbid valley cries,
So all we mountain-lovers sing:
I to the hills will lift mine eyes.
The bells that ring, the peaks that climb,
The frozen snow’s unbroken curd
Might yet revindicate in rhyme
The pauseless stream, the absent bird.
In vain—for to the deeps of life
You, lady, you my heart have stirred;
And since you say you love my life,
Be sure I love you for the word.
Of kindness, here I nothing say—
Such loveless kindnesses there are
In that grimacing, common way,
That old, unhonoured social war.
Love but my dog and love my love,
Adore with me a common star—
I value not the rest above
The ashes of a bad cigar.
TO MISS CORNISH
They tell me, lady, that to-day
On that unknown Australian strand—
Some time ago, so far away—
Another lady joined the band.
She joined the company of those
Lovelily dowered, nobly planned,
Who, smiling, still forgive their foes
And keep their friends in close command.
She, lady, as I learn, was one
Among the many rarely good;
And destined still to be a sun
Through every dark and rainy mood:—
She, as they told me, far had come,
By sea and land, o’er many a rood:—
Admired by all, beloved by some,
She was yourself, I understood.