TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING. I. THUS to be lost and thus to sink and die, Perchance were death indeed!- Constantia, turn ! In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie, Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burn Between thy lips, are laid to sleep; Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour it is yet, And from thy touch like fire doth leap. Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet, Alas, that the torn heart can bleed, but not forget! II. A breathless awe, like the swift change Unseen, but felt in youthful slumbers, Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers. And on my shoulders wings are woven, To follow its sublime career, Beyond the mighty moons that wane Upon the verge of nature's utmost sphere, III. Her voice is hovering o'er my soul—it lingers My heart is quivering like a flame; As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, IV. I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee, Rejoicing like a cloud of morn. Now 'tis the breath of summer night, Which when the starry waters sleep, Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright, Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight. TO CONSTANTIA. I. THE rose that drinks the fountain dew For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, II. Such is my heart roses are fair, And that at best a withered blossom; But thy false care did idly wear Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom ; And fed with love, like air and dew, Its growth . . . SONNET. OZY MANDIAS. I MET a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, LINES. I. THAT time is dead for ever, child, We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast, Of hopes which thou and I beguiled To death on life's dark river. II. The stream we gazed on then, rolled by ; Its waves are unreturning; But we yet stand In a lone land, Like tombs to mark the memory Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee In the light of life's dim morning. |