ΤΟ SAINTED Juliet! dearest name! I love thee, and live; and yet Love unreturned is like the fragrant flame My heart is lighted at thine eyes, Changed into fire, and blown about with sighs. SONG I I' The glooming light Of middle night So cold and white, Worn Sorrow sits by the moaning wave; Beside her are laid Her mattock and spade, For she hath half delved her own deep grave. The white clouds drizzle: her hair falls loose; She maketh her moan: She cannot speak; she can only weep; For she will not hope. The thick snow falls on her flake by flake, The dull wave mourns down the slope, The world will not change, and her heart will not break. SONG I The lintwhite and the throstlecock Have voices sweet and clear; All in the bloomed May. Seasons flower and fade; II When we laugh, and our mirth Pleasaunce fathers pain— Madness laugheth loud: Eyes are worn away III All is change, woe or weal; Larks in heaven's cope Be not all forlorn: Let us weep, in hope— Ah! welaway! NOTHING WILL DIE Reprinted without any important alteration among the Juvenilia in 1871 and onward. No change made except that "through" is spelt "thro'," and in the last line "and" is substituted for "all". When will the stream be aweary of flowing When will the wind be aweary of blowing When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? Never, oh! never, nothing will die? The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die. Nothing will die; All things will change 'Tis the world's winter; Through and through, Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be filled with life anew. The world was never made; It will change, but it will not fade. So let the wind range; For even and morn Through eternity. Nothing was born; Nothing will die; All things will change. ALL THINGS WILL DIE Reprinted among Juvenilia in 1873 and onward, without alteration. Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing Under my eye; Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing Over the sky. One after another the white clouds are fleeting; Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating Full merrily; Yet all things must die. The stream will cease to flow; All things must die. Spring will come never more. Death waits at the door. See! our friends are all forsaking In the dark we must lie. Hark! death is calling While I speak to ye, The jaw is falling, The red cheek paling, The strong limbs failing; Ice with the warm blood mixing ; The eyeballs fixing. Nine times goes the passing bell: Ye merry souls, farewell. The old earth Had a birth, As all men know, Long ago. And the old earth must die. So let the warm winds range, And the blue wave beat the shore; For even and morn Ye will never see |