Why did I fear to let thee stay A broken flower, Rosaline ? I thought not, when my dagger strook, The past all pleading in one look I did not know when thou wast dead; A blackbird whistling overhead Thrilled through my brain; I would have fled, But dared not leave thee, Rosaline ! A low, low moan, a light twig stirred By the upspringing of a bird, A drip of blood, were all I heard,— Then deathly stillness, Rosaline! The sun rolled down, and very soon, Like a great fire, the awful moon Rose, stained with blood, and then a swoon Crept chilly o'er me, Rosaline The stars came out; and, one by one, Each angel from his silver throne Looked down and saw what I had done : I dared not hide me, Rosaline! I crouched; I feared thy corpse would cry I waited with a maddened grin But no voice came, and then it seemed, That, if the very corpse had screamed, Through the dark stillness, Rosaline! Dreams of old quiet glimmered by, And faces loved in infancy Came and looked on me mournfully, Till my heart melted, Rosaline! I saw my mother's dying bed, I heard her bless me, and I shed Cool tears, but, lo! the ghastly dead And then, amid the silent night, I screamed with horrible delight, From me like snow, and only all Thine eyes are shut: they never more To tell the secret o'er and o'er Thou couldst not smother, Rosaline! Thine eyes are shut; they will not shine With happy tears, or, through the vine That hid thy casement, beam on mine, Sunful with gladness, Rosaline Thy voice I never more shall hear, That, ere it trembled in mine ear, 'Twixt me and memory, Rosaline! Why wilt thou haunt me with thine eyes, Wherein such blessed memories, Such pitying forgiveness lies, Than hate more bitter, Rosaline? Woe 's me! I know that love so high As thine, true soul, could never die, 1841. ALLEGRA. I WOULD more natures were like thine, That never casts a glance before,— Thou Hebe, who thy heart's bright wine So lavishly to all dost pour, That we who drink forget to pine, And can but dream of bliss in store. Thou canst not see a shade in life; With sunward instinct thou dost rise, And, leaving clouds below at strife, Gazest undazzled at the skies, With all their blazing splendours rife, A songful lark with eagle's eyes. |