The pains of an unquiet mind, That ever seeks what it can never find, Which is to youth a hope-a dark belief- To that which nothing natural can heal; The unseen wound which makes us poets when we feel. Then let me dream !—of love?—oh, yes ! Of love and thee! what can I less What less than fondly brood On such a radiant form as thine, That surely hath subdued Full many a spirit less on fire than mine! For Love and Beauty, long ago, Their faiths have plighted; That as in Heaven they have been still united, So they below, For weal and woe, Will evermore unite, And be on earth the parents of Delight. And now in very truth I find, With thy soft beauties love so intertwin'd, That I will openly declare, To see and not to love a thing so fair, Were to break faith with joy, And to be old, whilst I am yet a boy. It was indeed a rich delight, Delicate maid, to see thee move, With gentle bend before my sight, Ideal of a poet's love— So fair-so fancifully fair, Almost, methought, thou wert a thing of air; Some creature faery bright, With beamy locks, and face of light, And silver-woven drapery of haze, One of the shapes which, in his gifted hour, The poet, as he lies at gaze, Athwart the sun slow sweeping radiantly, Or art thou but a creature Whose place is in the brain, The fairest in a train Of many forms, that come from fairy land, Or art thou a creation That many know in part, A sudden revelation Of treasures in the heart? A new joy found in a hidden nook, The only place in which we did not look? Or art thou a form that had fled, Sought for in vain ? Or art thou a life that was dead, Wept for in pain, Sought for in faintness and dread? O comfortable vision! O blessed recognition! Love gave his dear one into Memory's keeping, Love sought his dear one, wandering and weeping, Love lost his dear one, yet He could not die! For whom he made moan;— He knows her by a sign-a look-a lost expression, Thou art not any thing to me, In air, or earth, or sea; Nor any thought of sea, or earth, or air, That art so clear and white-so visionary fair! Or utterly deface and ruin, So delicate a thought! For once I lost myself in dreams unholy, Catching my whispers gently as they fell, As warm and true as any heart could fashion, But all unmeet for thee to hear, That hast thy realm so far above The region of an earthly love! I bade her tell it thee in murmurs sweet, But she was mute; She would not babble of an earthly suit: The spell of all thy beauties had been broken; The glorious thing that thou hadst been before. So did I in my hour of folly, I will not stoop thee to an earthly level! To thy undoing! But I will woo thee as may best beseem, Thou shalt visit, with me, on joyous wing, If thy pleasure lies In the azure skies, Thou shalt soar up on high, Far into the sky, Upon the wild fire, With a spirit of joy that never can tire. Now swift with a swoop like a hawk we will fly, Now float on the warm air quietly. We will mix with a host of spirits with fair and wond'rous faces, And laugh with them in their glee, and join in their rapturous races. And all the while, what thing soe'er betide, A gentle maid, thou shalt in me confide, Laughing with thee, bright form, loud laughing at thy side. There's joy in the ocean, The lover believes it! No pillow So soft as the soft heaving billow, No pleasure So sweet as the song and the measure That ocean will sing to us, love, as we lie; Tho' his voice be rough, He'll sing us to sleep when we've laugh'd long enough. Then haste thee, bright maiden, quick haste thee to me; We'll away, love, away, to the great ocean sea. Come in a robe of softest green, And coral beads array'd; Thy long hairs flowing loose without a braid, An ocean maid! Away, love, away, We'll live in a smooth, green, glassy cave, And a watery floor A house that needs not any door Or window to let in the day; But thro' the lucent wave a green light makes its way. We'll live in a soft-echoing cave, Made by the avenued wave; As an avenue long and green and gay, Except a point where its long sides blend. A sweet half sleep, A soothing slumber not too deep, We might, but oh! we would not be without it! It will be sweet to soothe our very glee; Our hearts and eyes to close In the soft rapture of a felt repose. The moon shall glisten thro' the clear green wave And we will slumber in our ocean cave. Or if so wild a scheme Shall haply seem Less suited to thy gentler mood; We'll live together in a distant wood, That no one knows, A pleasant spot where many a streamlet flows, And many a wild flower grows. Oh, not a wood-call it a woody vale! |