The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 48

O thou unfaithful, still as ever dearest That in thy beauty to my eyes appearest In fancy rising now to re-awaken My love unshaken;

All thou'st forgotten, but no change can free thee, No hate unmake thee; as thou wert I see thee, And am contented, eye from fond eye meeting Its ample greeting.

O thou my star of stars, among things wholly Devoted, sacred, dim and melancholy, The only joy of all the joys I cherished That hast not perished,

Why now on others squand'rest thou the treasure, That to be jealous of is still my pleasure: As still I dream 'tis me whom thou invitest, Me thou delightest?

But day by day my joy hath feebler being, The fading picture tires my painful seeing, And faery fancy leaves her habitation To desolation.

Of two things open left for lovers parted 'Twas thine to scorn the past and go lighthearted: But I would ever dream I still possess it, And thus caress it.

12

Thou didst delight my eyes: Yet who am I? nor first Nor last nor best, that durst Once dream of thee for prize; Nor this the only time Thou shalt set love to rhyme.

Thou didst delight my ear: Ah! little praise; thy voice Makes other hearts rejoice, Makes all ears glad that hear; And short my joy: but yet, O song, do not forget.

For what wert thou to me?

How shall I say? The moon, That poured her midnight noon Upon his wrecking sea;-- A sail, that for a day Has cheered the castaway.

13

Joy, sweetest lifeborn joy, where dost thou dwell?

Upon the formless moments of our being Flitting, to mock the ear that heareth well, To escape the trained eye that strains in seeing, Dost thou fly with us whither we are fleeing; Or home in our creations, to withstand Black-winged death, that slays the making hand?

The making mind, that must untimely perish Amidst its work which time may not destroy, The beauteous forms which man shall love to cherish, The glorious songs that combat earth's annoy?

Thou dost dwell here, I know, divinest Joy: But they who build thy towers fair and strong, Of all that toil, feel most of care and wrong.

Sense is so tender, O and hope so high, That common pleasures mock their hope and sense; And swifter than doth lightning from the sky The ecstasy they pine for flashes hence, Leaving the darkness and the woe immense, Wherewith it seems no thread of life was woven, Nor doth the track remain where once 'twas cloven.

And heaven and all the stable elements That guard G.o.d's purpose mock us, though the mind Be spent in searching: for his old intents We see were never for our joy designed: They s.h.i.+ne as doth the bright sun on the blind, Or like his pensioned stars, that hymn above His praise, but not toward us, that G.o.d is Love.

For who so well hath wooed the maiden hours As quite to have won the worth of their rich show, To rob the night of mystery, or the flowers Of their sweet delicacy ere they go?

Nay, even the dear occasion when we know, We miss the joy, and on the gliding day The special glories float and pa.s.s away.

Only life's common plod: still to repair The body and the thing which perisheth: The soil, the s.m.u.tch, the toil and ache and wear, The grinding enginry of blood and breath, Pain's random darts, the heartless spade of death; All is but grief, and heavily we call On the last terror for the end of all.

Then comes the happy moment: not a stir In any tree, no portent in the sky: The morn doth neither hasten nor defer, The morrow hath no name to call it by, But life and joy are one,--we know not why,-- As though our very blood long breathless lain Had tasted of the breath of G.o.d again.

And having tasted it I speak of it, And praise him thinking how I trembled then When his touch strengthened me, as now I sit In wonder, reaching out beyond my ken, Reaching to turn the day back, and my pen Urging to tell a tale which told would seem The witless phantasy of them that dream.

But O most blessed truth, for truth thou art, Abide thou with me till my life shall end.

Divinity hath surely touched my heart; I have possessed more joy than earth can lend: I may attain what time shall never spend.

Only let not my duller days destroy The memory of thy witness and my joy.

14

The full moon from her cloudless skies Turneth her face, I think, on me; And from the hour when she doth rise Till when she sets, none else will see.

One only other ray she hath, That makes an angle close with mine, And glancing down its happy path Upon another spot doth s.h.i.+ne.

But that ray too is sent to me, For where it lights there dwells my heart: And if I were where I would be, Both rays would s.h.i.+ne, love, where thou art.

15

Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!

The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break, It leaps in the sky: unrisen l.u.s.tres slake The o'ertaken moon. Awake, O heart, awake!

She too that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee; Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee, Already they watch the path thy feet shall take: Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!

And if thou tarry from her,--if this could be,-- She cometh herself, O heart, to be loved, to thee; For thee would unashamed herself forsake: Awake to be loved, my heart, awake, awake!

Awake, the land is scattered with light, and see, Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree: And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake; Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!

Lo all things wake and tarry and look for thee: She looketh and saith, 'O sun, now bring him to me.

Come more adored, O adored, for his coming's sake, And awake my heart to be loved: awake, awake!'

16

SONG

I love my lady's eyes Above the beauties rare She most is wont to prize, Above her sunny hair, And all that face to face Her gla.s.s repeats of grace.

For those are still the same To her and all that see: But oh! her eyes will flame When they do look on me: And so above the rest I love her eyes the best.

Now say, [_Say, O say! saith the music_] who likes my song?-- I knew you by your eyes, That rest on nothing long, And have forgot surprise; And stray [_Stray, O stray! saith the music_] as mine will stray, The while my love's away.

17

Since thou, O fondest and truest, Hast loved me best and longest, And now with trust the strongest The joy of my heart renewest;

Since thou art dearer and dearer While other hearts grow colder And ever, as love is older, More lovingly drawest nearer:

Since now I see in the measure Of all my giving and taking, Thou wert my hand in the making, The sense and soul of my pleasure;

The good I have ne'er repaid thee In heaven I pray be recorded, And all thy love rewarded By G.o.d, thy master that made thee.

18

The evening darkens over After a day so bright The windcapt waves discover That wild will be the night.

There's sound of distant thunder.