Shafts, And In The Dreamy Water One Small Group Of Two Or Three Strange Trees Are Got Together, Wondering At All Around As Strange Beasts Herd Together Far From Their Own Land All Wildness No Turf Nor Moss, For Boughs And Plants Pave All, And Tongues Of Bank Go Shelving In The Waters, Where The Pale-Throated Snake Reclines His Head, And Old Grey Stones Lie Making Eddies There; The Wild Mice Cross Them Dry-Shod Deeper In Shut Thy Soft Eyes Now Look Still Deeper In: This Is The Very Heart Of The Woods All Round, Mountain-Like, Heaped Above Us; Yet Even Here One Pond Of Water Gleams Far Off The River Sweeps Like A Sea, Barred Out From Land; But One One Thin Clear Sheet Has Over-Leaped And Wound Into This Silent Depth, Which Gained, It Lies Still, As But Let By Sufferance; The Trees Bend O'Er It As Wild Men Watch A Sleeping Girl, And Thro' Their Roots Long Creeping Plants Stretch Out Their Twined Hair, Steeped And Sparkling; Farther On, Tall Rushes And Thick Flag-Knots Have Combined To Narrow It; So, At Length, A Silver Thread It Winds, All Noiselessly, Thro' The Deep Wood, Till Thro' A Cleft Way, Thro' The Moss And Stone, It Joins Its Parent-River With A Shout. Up For The Glowing Day Leave The Old Woods: See, They Part, Like A Ruined Arch, The Sky! Nothing But Sky Appears, So Close The Root And Grass Of The Hill-Top Level With The Air Blue Sunny Air, Where A Great Cloud Floats, Laden With Light, Like A Dead Whale That White Birds Pick, Floating Away In The Sun In Some North Sea. Air, Air Fresh Life-Blood Thin And Searching Air The Clear, Dear Breath Of God, That Loveth Us: Where Small Birds Reel And Winds Take Their Delight. Water Is Beautiful, But Not Like Air. See, Where The Solid Azure Waters Lie, Made As Of Thickened Air, And Down Below, The Fern-Ranks, Like A Forest Spread Themselves, As Tho' Each Pore Could Feel The Element; Where The Quick Glancing Serpent Winds His Way Float With Me There, Pauline, But Not Like Air. Down The Hill Stop A Clump Of Trees, See, Set On A Heap Of Rocks, Which Look O'Er The Far Plains, And Envious Climbing Shrubs Would Mount To Rest, And Peer From Their Spread Boughs. There They Wave, Looking At The Muleteers, Who Whistle As They Go To The Merry Chime Of Their Morning Bells And All The Little Smoking Cots, And Fields, And Banks, And Copses, Bright In The Sun; My Spirit Wanders. Hedge-Rows For Me Still, Living, Hedge-Rows, Where The Bushes Close, And Clasp Above, And Keep Thought In I Am Concentrated I Feel; But My Soul Saddens When It Looks Beyond; I Cannot Be Immortal, Nor Taste All. O God! Where Does This Tend These Straggling Aims!1 What Would I Have? What Is This 'Sleep,' Which Seems To Bound All? Can There Be A 'Waking' Point Of Crowning Life? The Soul Would Never Rule It Would Be First In All Things It Would Have Its Utmost Pleasure Filled But That Complete Commanding For Commanding Sickens It. The Last Point That I Can Trace Is, Rest Beneath Some Better Essence Than Itself In Weakness; This Is 'Myself' Not What I Think Should Be, And What Is That I Hunger For But God? My God, My God! Let Me For Once Look On Thee As Tho' Nought Else Existed: We Alone. And As Creation Crumbles, My Soul'S Spark Expands Till I Can Say, 'Even From Myself 'I Need Thee, And I Feel Thee, And I Love Thee; 'I Do Not Plead My Rapture In Thy Works 'For Love Of Thee Or That I Feel As One 'Who Cannot Die But There Is That In Me 'Which Turns To Thee, Which Loves, Or Which Should Love.' Why Have I Girt Myself With This Hell-Dress? Why Have I Laboured To Put Out My Life? Is It Not In My Nature To Adore, And E'En For All My Reason Do I Not Feel Him, And Thank Him, And Pray To Him? Now. Can I Forego The Trust That He Loves Me? Do I Not Feel A Love Which Only One . . . O Thou Pale Form, So Dimly Seen, Deep-Eyed, I Have Denied Thee Calmly Do I Not Pant When I Read Of Thy Consummate Deeds, And Burn To See Thy Calm Pure Truths Out-Flash The Brightest Gleams Of Earth'S Philosophy? Do I Not Shake To Hear Aught Question Thee? . . . If I Am Erring Save Me, Madden Me, Take From Me Powers, And Pleasures Let Me Die Ages, So I See Thee: I Am Knit Round As With A Charm, By Sin And Lust And Pride, Yet Tho' My Wandering Dreams Have Seen All Shapes Of Strange Delight, Oft Have I Stood By Thee Have I Been Keeping Lonely Watch With Thee, In The Damp Night By Weeping Olivet, Or Leaning On Thy Bosom, Proudly Less Or Dying With Thee On The Lonely Cross Or Witnessing Thy Bursting From The Tomb! A Mortal, Sin'S Familiar Friend Doth Here Avow That He Will Give All Earth'S Reward, But To Believe And Humbly Teach The Faith, In Suffering, And Poverty, And Shame, Only Believing He Is Not Unloved. . . . And Now, My Pauline, I Am Thine For Ever! I Feel The Spirit Which Has Buoyed Me Up Deserting Me: And Old Shades Gathering On; Yet While Its Last Light Waits, I Would Say Much, And Chiefly, I Am Glad That I Have Said That Love Which I Have Ever Felt For Thee, But Seldom Told; Our Hearts So Beat Together, That Speech Is Mockery, But When Dark Hours Come: And I Feel Sad; And Thou, Sweet, Deem'St It Strange; A Sorrow Moves Me, Thou Canst Not Remove. Look On This Lay I Dedicate To Thee, Which Thro' Thee I Began, And Which I End, Collecting The Last Gleams To Strive To Tell That I Am Thine, And More Than Ever Now That I Am Sinking Fast Yet Tho' I Sink No Less I Feel That Thou Hast Brought Me Bliss, And That I Still May Hope To Win It Back. Thou Know'St, Dear Friend, I Could Not Think All Calm, For Wild Dreams Followed Me, And Bore Me Off, And All Was Indistinct. Ere One Was Caught Another Glanced: So Dazzled By My Wealth, Knowing Not Which To Leave Nor Which To Choose, For All My Thoughts So Floated, Nought Was Fixed And Then Thou Said'St A Perfect Bard Was One Who Shadowed Out The Stages Of All Life, And So Thou Badest Me Tell This My First Stage: 'Tis Done: And Even Now I Feel All Dim The Shift Of Thought. These Are My Last Thoughts; I Discern Faintly Immortal Life, And Truth, And Good. And Why Thou Must Be Mine Is, That E'En Now, In The Dim Hush Of Night That I Have Done With Fears And Sad Forebodings: I Look Thro' And Say, 'E'En At The Last I Have Her Still, 'With Her Delicious Eyes As Clear As Heaven, 'When Rain In A Quick Shower Has Beat Down Mist, 'And Clouds Float White In The Sun Like Broods Of Swans.' How The Blood Lies Upon Her Cheek, All Spread As Thinned By Kisses; Only In Her Lips It Wells And Pulses Like A Living Thing, And Her Neck Looks, Like Marble Misted O'Er With Love-Breath, A Dear Thing To Kiss And Love, Standing Beneath Me Looking Out To Me, As I Might Kill Her And Be Loved For It. Love Me Love Me, Pauline, Love Nought But Me; Leave Me Not. All These Words Are Wild And Weak, Believe Them Not, Pauline. I Stooped So Low But To Behold Thee Purer By My Side, To Show Thou Art My Breath My Life A Last Resource An Extreme Want: Never Believe Aught Better Could So Look To Thee, Nor Seek Again The World Of Good Thoughts Left For Me. There Were Bright Troops Of Undiscovered Suns. Each Equal In Their Radiant Course. There Were Clusters Of Far Fair Isles, Which Ocean Kept For His Own Joy, And His Waves Broke On Them Without A Choice. And There Was A Dim Crowd Of Visions, Each A Part Of The Dim Whole. And A Star Left His Peers And Came With Peace Upon A Storm, And All Eyes Pined For Him, And One Isle Harboured A Sea-Beaten Ship, And The Crew Wandered In Its Bowers, And Plucked Its Fruits, And Gave Up All Their Hopes For Home. And One Dream Came To A Pale Poet'S Sleep, And He Said, 'I Am Singled Out By God, 'No Sin Must Touch Me.' I Am Very Weak, But What I Would Express Is, Leave Me Not, Still Sit By Me With Beating Breast, And Hair Loosened Watching Earnest By My Side, Turning My Books, Or Kissing Me When I Look Up Like Summer Wind. Be Still To Me A Key To Music'S Mystery, When Mind Fails, A Reason, A Solution And A Clue, You See I Have Thrown Off My Prescribed Rules: I Hope In Myself And Hope, And Pant, And Love You'll Find Me Better Know Me More Than When You Loved Me As I Was. Smile Not; I Have Much Yet To Gladden You To Dawn On You. No More Of The Past I'll Look Within No More I Have Too Trusted To My Own Wild Wants Too Trusted To Myself To Intuition. Draining The Wine Alone In The Still Night, And Seeing How As Gathering Films Arose, As By An Inspiration Life Seemed Bare And Grinning In Its Vanity, And Ends Hard To Be Dreamed Of, Stared At Me As Fixed, And Others Suddenly Became All Foul, As A Fair Witch Turned An Old Hag At Night. No More Of This We Will Go Hand In Hand, I Will Go With Thee, Even As A Child, Looking No Further Than Thy Sweet Commands. And Thou Hast Chosen Where This Life Shall Be The Land Which Gave Me Thee Shall Be Our Home, Where Nature Lies All Wild Amid Her Lakes And Snow-Swathed Mountains, And Vast Pines All Girt With Ropes Of Snow Where Nature Lies All Bare, Suffering None To View Her But A Race Most Stinted And Deformed Like The Mute Dwarfs Which Wait Upon A Naked Indian Queen. And There (The Time Being When The Heavens Are Thick With Storms) I'll Sit With Thee While Thou Dost Sing Thy Native Songs, Gay As A Desert Bird Who Crieth As He Flies For Perfect Joy, Or Telling Me Old Stories Of Dead Knights, Or I Will Read Old Lays To Thee How She, The Fair Pale Sister, Went To Her Chill Grave With Power To Love, And To Be Loved, And Live. Or Will Go Together, Like Twin Gods Of The Infernal World, With Scented Lamp Over The Dead To Call And To Awake Over The Unshaped Images Which Lie Within My Mind'S Cave Only Leaving All That Tells Of The Past Doubts. So When Spring Comes, And Sunshine Comes Again Like An Old Smile, And The Fresh Waters, And Awakened Birds, And Budding Woods Await Us I Shall Be Prepared, And We Will Go And Think Again, And All Old Loves Shall Come To Us But Changed As Some Sweet Thought Which Harsh Words Veiled Before; Feeling God Loves Us, And That All That Errs, Is A Strange Dream Which Death Will Dissipate; And Then When I Am Firm We'll Seek Again My Own Land, And Again I Will Approach My Old Designs, And Calmly Look On All The Works Of My Past Weakness, As One Views Some Scene Where Danger Met Him Long Before Ah! That Such Pleasant Life Should Be But Dreamed! But Whate'Er Come Of It And Tho' It Fade, And Tho' Ere The Cold Morning All Be Gone As It Will Be; Tho' Music Wait For Me, And Fair Eyes And Bright Wine, Laughing Like Sin, Which Steals Back Softly On A Soul Half Saved; And I Be First To Deny All, And Despise This Verse, And These Intents Which Seem So Fair; Still This Is All My Own, This Moment'S Pride, No Less I Make An End In Perfect Joy. E'En In My Brightest Time, A Lurking Fear Possessed Me. I Well Knew My Weak Resolves, I Felt The Witchery That Makes Mind Sleep Over Its Treasures As One Half Afraid To Make His Riches Definite But Now These Feelings Shall Not Utterly Be Lost, I Shall Not Know Again That Nameless Care, Lest Leaving All Undone In Youth, Some New And Undreamed End Reveal Itself Too Late: For This Song Shall Remain To Tell For Ever, That When I Lost All Hope Of Such A Change Suddenly Beauty Rose On Me Again. No Less I Make An End In Perfect Joy, For I, Having Thus Again Been Visited, Shall Doubt Not Many Another Bliss Awaits, And Tho' This Weak Soul Sink, And Darkness Come, Some Little Word Shall Light It Up Again, And I Shall See All Clearer And Love Better; I Shall Again Go O'Er The Tracts Of Thought, As One Who Has A Right; And I Shall Live With Poets Calmer Purer Still Each Time, And Beauteous Shapes Will Come To Me Again, And Unknown Secrets Will Be Trusted Me, Which Were Not Mine When Wavering But Now I Shall Be Priest And Lover, As Of Old. Sun-Treader, I Believe In God, And Truth, And Love; And As One Just Escaped From Death Would Bind Himself In Bands Of Friends To Feel He Lives Indeed So, I Would Lean On Thee; Thou Must Be Ever With Me Most In Gloom When Such Shall Come But Chiefly When I Die, For I Seem Dying, As One Going In The Dark To Fight A Giant And Live Thou For Ever, And Be To All What Thou Hast Been To Me All In Whom This Wakes Pleasant Thoughts Of Me, Know My Last State Is Happy Free From Doubt, Or Touch Of Fear. Love Me And Wish Me Well! Richmond, October 22, 1832.
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