THE fancy I had to-day, Fancy which turned a fear! 1 swam far out in the bay, Since waves laughed warm and clear. I lay and looked at the sun, The noon-sun looked at me : Between us two, no one Live creature, that I could see. Yes! There came floating by A handbreadth overhead! All of the sea my own, It owned the sky instead ; Both of us were alone. I never shall join its flight, For, naught buoys flesh in air. Can the insect feel the better For watching the uncouth play Of limbs that slip the fetter, Pretend as they were not clay ? Undoubtedly I rejoice That the air comports so well With a creature which had the choice Of the land once. Who can tell? Dreary, weary with the long day's work: Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone: Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk; When, in a moment, just a knock, call, cry, Half a pang and all a rapture, there again were we! "What, and is it really you again?" quoth I: "I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She. "Never mind, hie away from this old house Every crumbling brick embrowned with sin and shame! Quick, in its corners ere certain shapes arouse! Let them--every devil of the nightlay claim, Make and mend, or rap and rend, for me! Good-by! God be their guard from disturbance at their glee, Till, crash, comes down the carcass in a heap!" quoth I: 66 "Nay, but there's a decency required!" quoth She. Ah, but if you knew how time has dragged, days, nights! All the neighbor-talk with man and maid-such men! All the fuss and trouble of street-sounds, window-sights: All the worry of flapping door and echoing roof; and then, All the fancies .. Who were they had leave, dared try Darker arts that almost struck despair in me? If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I: "And was I so better off up there?” quoth She. "Help and get it over! Reunited to his wife (How draw up the paper lets the parish people know?) Lies M. or N., departed from this life, Day the this or that, month and year the so and so. What i' the way of final flourish? Prose, verse? Try! Affliction sore long time he bore, or, what is it to be? Till God did please to grant him ease. Do end!" quoth I: "I end with-Love is all, and Death is nought!" quoth She. 1872. HOUSE SHALL I sonnet-sing you about myself? Do I live in a house you would like to see? Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf? "Unlock my heart with a sonnetkey?" Invite the world, as my betters have done? "Take notice: this building remains on view, Its suites of reception every one, Its private apartment and bedroom too; "For a ticket, apply to the Publisher." No: thanking the public, I must decline. A peep through my window, if folk prefer; But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine! I have mixed with a crowd and heard free talk In a foreign land where an earthquake chanced And a house stood gaping, naught to balk Man's eye wherever he gazed or glanced. The whole of the frontage shaven sheer, The inside gaped: exposed to day, Right and wrong and common and queer, Bare, as the palm of your hand, it lay. The owner? Oh, he had been crushed, no doubt! "Odd tables and chairs for a man of wealth! What a parcel of musty old books about! He smoked,--no wonder he lost his health! NATURAL MAGIC ALL I can say is-I saw it! The room was as bare as your hand. swear, From the head to the foot of her-well, quite as bare! "No Ñautch shall cheat me," said I, taking my stand 66 At this bolt which I draw!" And this bolt-I withdraw it, And there laughs the lady, not bare, but embowered With-who knows what verdure, o'erfruited, o'erflowered? Impossible! Only-I saw it! All I can sing is-I feel it! This life was as blank as that room; I let you pass in here. Precaution, indeed? Walls, ceiling and floor,-not a chance for a weed! Wide opens the entrance: where 's cold now, where 's gloom? No May to sow seed here, no June to reveal it, Behold you enshrined in these blooms of your bringing, These fruits of your bearing-nay, birds of your winging! A fairy-tale! Only-I feel it! MAGICAL NATURE 1876. Of the snaky bough: and you grumble "Good! For it swells resolve, breeds hardihood; Dispatch it, then, in a single gulp!" So, down, with a wry face, goes at length The liquor stuff for strength. One pours your cup--sheer sweet, The fragrant fumes of a year condensed: Suspicion of all that 's ripe or rathe, Froin the bud on branch to the grass in swathe, "We suck mere milk of the seasons," saith A curl of each nostril--" dew, dispensed Nowise for nerving man to feat: Boys sip such honeyed sweet!" And thus who wants wine strong, Waves each sweet smell of the year away; Who likes to swoon as the sweets suffuse Some five or six are abroach: the rest Stand spigoted, fauceted. Try and test What yourselves call best of the very best! How comes it that still untouched they stand? Why don't you try tap, advance a stage With the rest in the cellarage? For see your cellarage! There are four big butts of Milton's brew. How comes it you make old drips and drops Do duty, and there devotion stops? Leave such an abyss of malt and hops Embellied in butts which bungs still glue? [rage! You hate your bard! A fig for your Free him from cellarage! "T is said I brew stiff drink, But the deuce a flavor of grape is there. |