Divided Broad and white, and polished as silver, On she goes under fruit-laden trees: Sunk in leafage cooeth the culver, And 'plaineth of love's disloyalties. Glitters the dew, and shines the river, And wave their hands for a mute farewell. VII A braver swell, a swifter sliding; The river hasteth, her banks recede. Wing-like sails on her bosom gliding Bear down the lily, and drown the reed. Stately prows are rising and bowing The tiny green ribbon that showed so fair. While, O my heart! as white sails shiver, And clouds are passing, and banks stretch wide, Farther, farther; I see it, know it My eyes brim over, it melts away: Only my heart to my heart shall show it As I walk desolate day by day. VIII And yet I know past all doubting, truly,— And as I walk by the vast calm river, The awful river so dread to see, I say, "Thy breadth and thy depth forever 951 Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me." Jean Ingelow [1820-1897] MY PLAYMATE THE pines were dark on Ramoth hill, The blossoms drifted at our feet, For, more to me than birds or flowers, My playmate left her home, And took with her the laughing spring, The music and the bloom. She kissed the lips of kith and kin, She left us in the bloom of May: I walk, with noiseless feet, the round Of uneventful years; Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring She lives where all the golden year There haply with her jeweled hands My Playmate The wild grapes wait us by the brook, The brown nuts on the hill, And still the May-day flowers make sweet The lilies blossom in the pond, I wonder if she thinks of them, I see her face, I hear her voice: What cares she that the orioles build O playmate in the golden time! The winds so sweet with birch and fern A sweeter memory blow; And there in spring the veeries sing The song of long ago. And still the pines of Ramoth wood 953 John Greenleaf Whittier [1807-1892] A FAREWELL WITH all my will, but much against my heart, We two now part. My Very Dear, Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear. It needs no art, With faint, averted feet And many a tear, In our opposed paths to persevere. Go thou to East, I West. We will not say There's any hope, it is so far away. But, O, my Best, When the one darling of our widowhead, The nursling Grief Is dead, And no dews blur our eyes To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies, Perchance we may, Where now this night is day, And even through faith of still averted feet, Making full circle of our banishment, Amazèd meet; The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet With tears of recognition never dry. Coventry Patmore [1823-1896] DEPARTURE It was not like your great and gracious ways! Do you, that have naught other to lament, Never, my Love, repent Of how, that July afternoon, You went, With sudden, unintelligible phrase, And frightened eye, Upon your journey of so many days Absent, Yet Present Without a single kiss, or a good-bye? I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, Well, it was well To hear you such things speak, And I could tell What made your eyes a glowing gloom of love, And it was like your great and gracious ways To let the laughter flash, Whilst I drew near, Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear. But all at once to leave me at the last, More at the wonder than the loss aghast, With huddled, unintelligible phrase, And frightened eye, And go your journey of all days With not one kiss, or a good-bye, 955 And the only loveless look the look with which you passed: 'Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. Coventry Patmore [1823-1896] ABSENT, YET PRESENT As the flight of a river That flows to the sea, My soul rushes ever In tumult to thee. A twofold existence I am where thou art; |