My Heart and I And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, But when I speak-thou dost not say And now I feel, as well I may, If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, I still might press thy silent heart, I do not think, where'er thou art, And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart Yet there was round thee such a dawn As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore! 1083 Charles Wolfe [1791-1823] MY HEART AND I ENOUGH! We're tired, my heart and I. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason's knife, You see we're tired, my heart and I. As if such colors could not fly. We walked too straight for fortune's end, We loved too true to keep a friend; At last we're tired, my heart and I. How tired we feel, my heart and I! Our voice which thrilled you so, will let You sleep; our tears are only wet: What do we here, my heart and I? So tired, so tired, my heart and I! It was not thus in that old time When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime To watch the sunset from the sky. "Dear love, you're looking tired," he said: I, smiling at him, shook my head. 'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I. So tired, so tired, my heart and I! Though now none takes me on his arm Tired out we are, my heart and I. Yet who complains? My heart and I? Rosalind's Scroll Disdain them, break them, throw them by! 1085 Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861] ROSALIND'S SCROLL From The Poet's Vow" I LEFT thee last, a child at heart, Look on me with thine own calm look: No look of thine can change this smile, I tell thee that my poor scorned heart But out, alas! these words are writ Adown whose cheeks the proofs of life, I have prayed for thee with bursting sob I have prayed for thee with silent lips Go to! I pray for thee no more: I charge thee, by the living's prayer, To wring from out thy soul a cry Which God shall hear and bless! Lest Heaven's own palm droop in my hand, A saint companionless. Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861] LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary, Where we sat side by side On a bright May mornin' long ago, The place is little changed, Mary, And your breath, warm on my cheek: 'Tis but a step down yonder lane, And the little church stands near- Lament of the Irish Emigrant 1087 But the graveyard lies between, Mary, And my step might break your restFor I've laid you, darling, down to sleep, With your baby on your breast. I'm very lonely now, Mary, For the poor make no new friends; And you were all I had, Mary, Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary, When the trust in God had left my soul, I thank you for the patient smile I bless you for the pleasant word, When your heart was sad and soreOh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary, Where grief can't reach you more! I'm biddin' you a long farewell, In the land I'm goin' to: They say there's bread and work for all, And the sun shines always there, But I'll not forget old Ireland, Were it fifty times as fair! |