STANZAS TO 1. THOUGH the day of my destiny 's over, The faults which so many could find; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, And the love which my spirit hath painted 2. Then when nature around me is smiling, Because it reminds me of thine; And when winds are at war with the ocean, If their billows excite an emotion It is that they bear me from thee. 3. Though the rock of my last hope is shiver'd, ough I feel that my soul is deliver'd To pain-it shall not be its slave. ere is many a pang to pursue me: They may crush, but they shall not contemney may torture, but shall not subdue meTis of thee that I think-not of them. ough human, thou didst not deceive me, Though woman, thou didst not forsake, ough loved, thou forborest to grieve me, Though slander'd, thou never could'st shake,ough trusted, thou didst not disclaim me, Though parted, it was not to fly, ough watchful, 'twas not to defame me, Nor, mute, that the world might belie. t I blame not the world, nor despise it, 6. From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd, It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee, DARKNESS. I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Of this their desolation; and all hearts And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings-the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, re burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, ppy were those who dwelt within the eye hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Er funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up mad disquietude on the dull sky, pall of a past world; and then again ncurses cast them down upon the dust, gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds - terrified, did flutter on the ground, And War, which for a moment was no more, Of famine fed upon all entrails-men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand And they were enemies; they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame |