It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy. T. Hood CCXXV THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS FT in the stilly night OFF Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so link'd together I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted. Whose lights are fled Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. T. Moore RA CCXXVI INVOCATION ARELY, rarely, comest thou, Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day How shall ever one like me All but those who need thee not. As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismay'd; Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear. Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure ;- Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. I love all that thou lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves drest And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn I love snow and all the forms I love waves, and winds, and storms, Which is Nature's, and may be I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What diff'rence? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less. I love Love- though he has wings, And above all other things, Spirit, I love thee Thou art love and life! O come! Make once more my heart thy home! P. B. Shelley CCXXVII STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES 'HE sun is warm, the sky is clear, THE The waves are dancing fast and bright, Like many a voice of one delight— I see the Deep's untrampled floor Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown: The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Arises from its measured motion How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, And walk'd with inward glory crown'd— Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. Yet now despair itself is mild And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. P. B. Shelley CCXXVIII THE SCHOLAR MY days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, My never failing friends are they, With them I take delight in weal And while I understand and feel My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude. My thoughts are with the Dead; with them Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with an humble mind. |