That he at length beholds woo, parley, plead, The "very, very Rosalind" indeed!

8 ADELPHI TERRACE, 21st April 1867.

TO AN ACTRESS

I read your name when you were strange to me, Where it stood blazoned bold with many more; I pa.s.sed it vacantly, and did not see Any great glory in the shape it wore.

O cruelty, the insight barred me then!

Why did I not possess me with its sound, And in its cadence catch and catch again Your nature's essence floating therearound?

Could THAT man be this I, unknowing you, When now the knowing you is all of me, And the old world of then is now a new, And purpose no more what it used to be - A thing of formal journeywork, but due To springs that then were sealed up utterly?

1867.

THE MINUTE BEFORE MEETING

The grey gaunt days dividing us in twain Seemed hopeless hills my strength must faint to climb, But they are gone; and now I would detain The few clock-beats that part us; rein back Time,

And live in close expectance never closed In change for far expectance closed at last, So harshly has expectance been imposed On my long need while these slow blank months pa.s.sed.

And knowing that what is now about to be Will all HAVE BEEN in O, so short a s.p.a.ce!

I read beyond it my despondency When more dividing months shall take its place, Thereby denying to this hour of grace A full-up measure of felicity.

1871.

HE ABJURES LOVE

At last I put off love, For twice ten years The daysman of my thought, And hope, and doing; Being ashamed thereof, And faint of fears And desolations, wrought In his pursuing,

Since first in youthtime those Disquietings That heart-enslavement brings To hale and h.o.a.ry, Became my housefellows, And, fool and blind, I turned from kith and kind To give him glory.

I was as children be Who have no care; I did not shrink or sigh, I did not sicken; But lo, Love beckoned me, And I was bare, And poor, and starved, and dry, And fever-stricken.

Too many times ablaze With fatuous fires, Enkindled by his wiles To new embraces, Did I, by wilful ways And baseless ires, Return the anxious smiles Of friendly faces.

No more will now rate I The common rare, The midnight drizzle dew, The gray hour golden, The wind a yearning cry, The faulty fair, Things dreamt, of comelier hue Than things beholden! . . .

--I speak as one who plumbs Life's dim profound, One who at length can sound Clear views and certain.

But--after love what comes?

A scene that lours, A few sad vacant hours, And then, the Curtain.

1883.

A SET OF COUNTRY SONGS

LET ME ENJOY (MINOR KEY)

I

Let me enjoy the earth no less Because the all-enacting Might That fashioned forth its loveliness Had other aims than my delight.

II

About my path there flits a Fair, Who throws me not a word or sign; I'll charm me with her ignoring air, And laud the lips not meant for mine.

III

From ma.n.u.scripts of moving song Inspired by scenes and dreams unknown I'll pour out raptures that belong To others, as they were my own.

IV

And some day hence, towards Paradise, And all its blest--if such should be - I will lift glad, afar-off eyes, Though it contain no place for me.

AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR

I

THE BALLAD-SINGER

Sing, Ballad-singer, raise a hearty tune; Make me forget that there was ever a one I walked with in the meek light of the moon When the day's work was done.

Rhyme, Ballad-rhymer, start a country song; Make me forget that she whom I loved well Swore she would love me dearly, love me long, Then--what I cannot tell!

Sing, Ballad-singer, from your little book; Make me forget those heart-breaks, achings, fears; Make me forget her name, her sweet sweet look - Make me forget her tears.