What is he buzzing in my ears?

"Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?"

Ah, reverend sir, not I!

What I viewed there once, what I view again Where the physic bottles stand On the table's edge,--is a suburb lane, With a wall to my bedside hand.

That lane sloped, much as the bottles do, From a house you could descry 10 O'er the garden-wall: is the curtain blue Or green to a healthy eye?

To mine, it serves for the old June weather Blue above lane and wall; And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether"

Is the house o'er-topping all.

At a terrace, somewhere near the stopper, There watched for me, one June, A girl: I know, sir, it's improper, My poor mind's out of tune. 20

Only, there was a way ... you crept Close by the side, to dodge Eyes in the house, two eyes except: They styled their house "The Lodge."

What right had a lounger up their lane?

But, by creeping very close, With the good wall's help,--their eyes might strain And stretch themselves to Oes,

Yet never catch her and me together, As she left the attic, there, 30 By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether,"

And stole from stair to stair

And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas, We loved, sir--used to meet; How sad and bad and mad it was-- But then, how it was sweet!

A WOMAN'S LAST WORD

Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before, Love, --Only sleep!

What so wild as words are?

I and thou In debate, as birds are, Hawk on bough!

See the creature stalking While we speak! 10 Hush and hide the talking, Cheek on cheek.

What so false as truth is, False to thee?

Where the serpent's tooth is, Shun the tree--

Where the apple reddens, Never pry-- Lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I. 20

Be a G.o.d and hold me With a charm!

Be a man and fold me With thine arm!

Teach me, only teach, Love!

As I ought I will speak thy speech, Love, Think thy thought--

Meet, if thou require it, Both demands, 30 Laying flesh and spirit In thy hands.

That shall be to-morrow, Not to-night: I must bury sorrow Out of sight:

--Must a little weep, Love, (Foolish me!) And so fall asleep, Love, Loved by thee. 40

A PRETTY WOMAN

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers!

To think men cannot take you, Sweet, And infold you, Ay, and hold you, And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!

You like us for a glance, you know-- For a word's sake 10 Or a sword's sake: All's the same, whate'er the chance, you know.

And in turn we make you ours, we say-- You and youth too, Eyes and mouth too, All the face composed of flowers, we say.

All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet-- Sing and say for, Watch and pray for, Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet! 20

But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet, Tho' we prayed you, Paid you, brayed you In a mortar--for you could not, Sweet!

So, we leave the sweet face fondly there, Be its beauty Its sole duty!

Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!

And while the face lies quiet there, Who shall wonder 30 That I ponder A conclusion? I will try it there.

As,--why must one, for the love foregone Scout mere liking?

Thunder-striking Earth,--the heaven, we looked above for, gone!

Why, with beauty, needs there money be, Love with liking?

Crush the fly-king In his gauze, because no honey-bee? 40

May not liking be so simple-sweet, If love grew there 'Twould undo there All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?

Is the creature too imperfect, say?

Would you mend it And so end it?

Since not all addition perfects aye!

Or is it of its kind, perhaps, Just perfection-- 50 Whence, rejection Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?

Shall we burn up, tread that face at once Into tinder, And so hinder Sparks from kindling all the place at once?

Or else kiss away one's soul on her?

Your love-fancies!

--A sick man sees Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her! 60

Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,-- Plucks a mould-flower For his gold flower, Uses fine things that efface the rose.