ADDITIONAL POEMS 289 I strove with none, for none was worth my strife ; Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art ; I warmed both hands before the fire of life ; It sinks, and I am ready to depart. W. S. LANDOR. 290 ROSE AYLMER Ah what the form divine ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. May weep, but never see, W. S. LANDOR. 5 291 THE MAID'S LAMENT I feel I am alone. Alas ! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, 5 And wearied all my thought To vex myself and him : I now would give My love, could he but live Who lately lived for me, and, when he found 'Twas vain, in holy ground 10 He hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath And this lorn bosom burns And waking me to weep Wept he as bitter tears. 20 Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, 25 Ind, 0, pray too for me! W. S. LANDOR. 292 TO ROBERT BROWNING There is delight in singing, tho' none hear Beside the singer : and there is delight In praising, tho' the praiser sit alone And see the praised far off him, far above. Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's, 5 Therefore on him no speech ! and brief for thee, Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale, No man hath walked along our roads with step So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue So varied in discourse. But warmer climes 10 Give brighter plumage, stronger wing : the breeze Of Alpine heights thou playest with, borne on Beyond Sorrento and Amalfi, where The Siren waits thee, singing song for song. W. S. LANDOR. 293 Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak Four not exempt from pride some future day. Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek Over my open volume you will say, • This man loved me!' then rise and trip away. W. S. LANDOR. 294 To see me write your name upon You think you're writing upon stone !! 5 W. S. LANDOR. 295 Thy solitary way? 5 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly seen against the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink 10 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side ? There is a Power whose care 15 Lone wandering, but not lost. 20 All day thy wings have fanned, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end ; Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest, And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven 25 Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, 31 Will lead my steps aright. W. C. BRYANT. 296 RONDEAU Jumping from the chair she sat in ; Sweets into your list, put that in ! 5 297 But the valley sheep are fatter ; To carry off the latter, 5 And killed the men who held it. |