Nay, do not smile! mine eyelids fall
Over mine eyes and feel withal
The sudden tears within.
V
Is there a leaf, that greenly grows
Where summer meadows bloom,
But gathereth the winter snows
And changeth to the hue of those,
If lasting till they come?
VI
Is there a word, or jest, or game,
But time incrusteth round
With sad associate thoughts the same?
And so to me my very name
Assumes a mournful sound.
VII
My brother gave that name to me
When we were children twain,
When names acquired baptismally
Were hard to utter, as to see
That life had any pain.
VIII
No shade was on us then, save one
Of chestnuts from the hill;
And through the word our laugh did run
As part thereof: the mirth being done,
He calls me by it still.
IX
Nay, do not smile! I hear in it
What none of you can hear, —
The talk upon the willow seat,
The bird and wind that did repeat
Around, our human cheer.
X
I hear the birthday’s noisy bliss,
My sisters’ woodland glee,
My father’s praise I did not miss,
When stooping down he cared to kiss
The poet at his knee, —
XI
And voices which, to name me, aye
Their tenderest tones were keeping —
To some I never more can say
An answer till God wipes away
In heaven these drops of weeping.
XII
My name to me a sadness wears:
No murmurs cross my mind —
Now God be thanked for these thick tears
Which show, of those departed years,
Sweet memories left behind.
XIII
Now God be thanked for years enwrought
With love which softens yet:
Now God be thanked for every thought
Which is so tender it has caught
Earth’s guerdon of regret.
XIV
Earth saddens, never shall remove
Affections purely given;
And e’en that mortal grief shall prove
The immortality of love,
And heighten it with Heaven.
THE MOURNING MOTHER OF THE DEAD BLIND
I.
Dost thou weep, mourning mother,
For thy blind boy in grave?
That no more with each other
Sweet counsel ye can have?
That he, left dark by nature,
Can never more be led
By thee, maternal creature,
Along smooth paths instead?
That thou canst no more show him
The sunshine, by the heat;
The river’s silver flowing,
By murmurs at his feet?
The foliage, by its coolness;
The roses, by their smell;
And all creation’s fulness,
By Love’s invisible?
Weepest thou to behold not
His meek blind eyes again, —
Closed doorways which were folded,
And prayed against in vain —
And under which, sat smiling
The child-mouth evermore,
As one who watcheth, wiling
The time by, at a door?
And weepest thou to feel not
His clinging hand on thine —
Which now, at dream-time, will not
Its cold touch disentwine?
And weepest thou still ofter,
Oh, never more to mark
His low soft words, made softer
By speaking in the dark?
Weep on, thou mourning mother!
II.
But since to him when living,
Thou wast both sun and moon,
Look o’er his grave, surviving,
From a high sphere alone:
Sustain that exaltation,
Expand that tender light,
And hold in mother-passion
Thy Blessèd in thy sight.
See how he went out straightway
From the dark world he knew, —
No twilight in the gateway
To mediate ‘twixt the two, —
Into the sudden glory,
Out of the dark he trod,
Departing from before thee
At once to light and God ! —
For the first face, beholding
The Christ’s in its divine,
For the first place, the golden
And tideless hyaline,
With trees at lasting summer
That rock to songful sound,
While angels the new-comer
Wrap a still smile around.
Oh, in the blessèd psalm now,
His happy voice he tries,
Spreading a thicker palm-bough,
Than others, o’er his eyes!
Yet still, in all the singing,
Thinks haply of thy song
Which, in his life’s first springing,
Sang to him all night long;
And wishes it beside him,
With kissing lips that cool
And soft did overglide him,
To make the sweetness full.
Look up, O mourning mother!
Thy blind boy walks in light:
Ye wait for one another
Before God’s infinite.
But thou art now the darkest,
Thou mother left below —
Thou, the sole blind, — thou markest,
Content that it be so, —
Until ye two have meeting
Where Heaven’s pearl-gate is,
And he shall lead thy feet in,
As once thou leddest his .
Wait on, thou mourning mother!
A VALEDICTION.
I
God be with thee, my belovèd, — God be with thee!
Else alone thou goest forth,
Thy face unto the north,
Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee
Looking equal in one snow;
While I, who try to reach thee,
Vainly follow, vainly follow
With the farewell and the hollo,
And cannot reach thee so.
Alas, I can but teach thee!
God be with thee, my belovèd, — God be with thee!
II
Can I teach thee, my belovèd, — can I teach thee?
If I said, “Go left or right,”
The counsel would be light,
The wisdom, poor of all that could enrich thee;
My right would show like left;
My raising would depress thee,
My choice of light would blind thee,
Of way — would leave behind thee,
Of end — would leave bereft.
Alas, I can but bless thee!
May God teach thee, my belovèd, — may God teach thee!
III
Can I bless thee, my belovèd, — can I bless thee?
What blessing word can I
From mine own tears keep dry?
What flowers grow in my field wherewith to dress thee?
My good reverts to ill;
My calmnesses would move thee,
My softnesses would prick thee,
My bindings up would break thee,
My crownings curse and kill.
Alas, I can but love thee!
May God bless thee, my belovèd, — may God bless thee!
IV
Can I love thee, my belovèd, — can I love thee?
And is this like love, to stand
With no help in my hand,
When strong as death I fain would watch above thee?
My love-kiss can deny
No tear that falls beneath it;
Mine oath of love can swear thee
From no ill that comes near thee,
And thou diest while I breathe it,
And I — I can but die!
May God love thee, my belovèd, — may God love thee!
LESSONS FROM THE GORSE.
“To win the secret of a weed’s plain heart.”
Lowell.
I
Mountain gorses, ever-golden,
Cankered not the whole year long!
Do ye teach us to be strong,
Howsoever pricked and holden
Like your thorny blooms, and so
Trodden on by rain and snow,
Up the hill-side of this life, as bleak as where ye grow?
II
Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms,
Do ye teach us to be glad
When no summer can be had,
Blooming in our inward bosoms?
Ye, whom God preserveth still,
Set as lights upon a hill,
Tokens to the wintry earth that Beauty liveth still!
III
Mountain gorses, do ye teach us
From that academic chair
Canopied with azure air,
That the wisest word man reaches
Is the humblest he can speak?
Ye, who live on mountain peak,
Yet live low along the ground, beside the grasses meek!
IV
Mountain gorses, since Linnæus
Knelt beside you on the sod,
For your beauty thanking God, —
For your teaching, ye should see us
Bowing in prostration new!
Whence arisen, — if one or two
Drops be on our cheeks — O world, they are not tears but dew.
THE LADY’S “YES.”
I
“ Yes ,” I answered you last night;
“No,” this morning, sir, I say:
Colours seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.
II
When the viols played their best,
Lamps above and laughs below,
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for yes or fit for no .
III
Call me false or call me free,
Vow, whatever light may shine, —
No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.
IV
Yet the sin is on us both;
Time to dance is not to woo;
Wooing light makes fickle troth,
Scorn of me recoils on you .
V
Learn to win a lady’s faith
Nobly, as the thing is high,
Bravely, as for life and death,
With a loyal gravity.
VI
Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies;
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship’s flatteries.
VII
By your truth she shall be true,
Ever true, as wives of yore;
And her yes , once said to you,
Shall be Yes for evermore.
A WOMAN’S SHORTCOMINGS.
She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
She has counted six, and over,
Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried -
Oh, each a worthy lover!
They “give her time”; for her soul must slip
Where the world has set the grooving;
She will lie to none with her fair red lip:
But love seeks truer loving.
She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb,
As her thoughts were beyond recalling;
With a glance for one, and a glance for some,
From her eyelids rising and falling;
Speaks common words with a blushful air,
Hears bold words, unreproving;
But her silence says - what she never will swear -
And love seeks better loving.
Go, lady! lean to the night-guitar,
And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of an in-door singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
Glance lightly, on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries -
But dare not call it loving!
Unless you can think, when the song is done,
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by One,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear “For life, for death!” -
Oh, fear to call it loving!
Unless you can muse in a crowd all day
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past -
Oh, never call it loving!
A MAN’S REQUIREMENTS.
I
Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.
II
Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.
III
Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven’s truth be wanting?
IV
Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.
V
Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely — open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, —
Hearing one behind it.
VI
Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur ‘Love me!’
VII
Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living — dying.
VIII
Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.
IX
Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.
X
Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.
XI
Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman’s love no fable,
I will love thee — half a year —
As a man is able.
A YEAR’S SPINNING.
1
He listened at the porch that day,
To hear the wheel go on, and on;
And then it stopped, ran back away,
While through the door he brought the sun:
But now my spinning is all done.
2
He sat beside me, with an oath
That love ne’er ended, o
nce begun;
I smiled — believing for us both,
What was the truth for only one:
And now my spinning is all done.
3
My mother cursed me that I heard
A young man’s wooing as I spun:
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word —
For I have, since, a harder known!
And now my spinning is all done.
4
I thought — O God! — my first-born’s cry
Both voices to mine ear would drown:
I listened in mine agony —
It was the silence made me groan!
And now my spinning is all done.
5
Bury me ‘twixt my mother’s grave,
(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby’s (God it save!)
Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
And now my spinning is all done.
6
A stone upon my heart and head,
But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,
“This sinner was a loving one —
And now her spinning is all done.”
7
And let the door ajar remain,
In case he should pass by anon;
And leave the wheel out very plain, —
That HE, when passing in the sun,
May see the spinning is all done.
CHANGE UPON CHANGE.
Five months ago the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.
Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
Complete Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning Page 65