ments, among all, O lovely child,
Shall be my saddest, but my sweetest, too.
I will remember your smile, your caress,
Your eyes, so kind that day,--exquisite snare!--
Yourself, in fine, whom else I might not bless,
Only as they appeared, not as they were.
VI
I see you still! Dressed in a summer dress,
Yellow and white, bestrewn with curtain-flowers;
But you had lost the glistening laughingness
Of our delirious former loving hours.
The eldest daughter and the little wife
Spoke plainly in your bearing's least detail,--
Already 'twas, alas! our altered life
That stared me from behind your dotted veil.
Forgiven be! And with no little pride
I treasure up,--and you, no doubt, see why,--
Remembrance of the lightning to one side
That used to flash from your indignant eye!
VII
Some moments, I'm the tempest-driven bark
That runs dismasted mid the hissing spray,
And seeing not Our Lady through the dark
Makes ready to be drowned, and kneels to pray.
Some moments, I'm the sinner at his end,
That knows his doom if he unshriven go,
And losing hope of any ghostly friend,
Sees Hell already gape, and feels it glow.
Oh, but! Some moments, I've the spirit stout
Of early Christians in the lion's care,
That smile to Jesus witnessing, without
A nerve's revolt, the turning of a hair!
Aquarelles
GREEN
See, blossoms, branches, fruit, leaves I have brought,
And then my heart that for you only sighs;
With those white hands of yours, oh, tear it not,
But let the poor gift prosper in your eyes.
The dew upon my hair is still undried,--
The morning wind strikes chilly where it fell.
Suffer my weariness here at your side
To dream the hour that shall it quite dispel.
Allow my head, that rings and echoes still
With your last kiss, to lie upon your breast,
Till it recover from the stormy thrill,--
And let me sleep a little, since you rest.
SPLEEN
The roses were so red, so red,
The ivies altogether black.
If you but merely turn your head,
Beloved, all my despairs come back!
The sky was over-sweet and blue,
Too melting green the sea did show.
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