English

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze
But is the echo of some voice beloved:
Its pines have human tones; its billows wear
The color and the sparkle of dear eyes.
Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands
That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful
Because of something lovelier than themselves,
Which breathes within them, and will never die.—
Haunted,—but not with any spectral gloom;
Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

These blossoms, gathered in familiar paths,
With dear companions now passed out of sight,

I SAT to-day beneath the pine
And saw the long lake shine.
The wind was weary, and the day
Sank languidly away
Behind the forest's purple rim:
The sun was fair for me, I lived for him!

I did not miss you. All was sweet,
Sky, earth, and soul complete
In harmony, which could afford
No more, nor spoil the chord.
Could I be blest, and you afar,
Were other I, or you, than what we are?

The sifted silver of the night
Rained down a strange delight;
The moon's moist beams on meadows made

Not here; my roses bear too many thorns;
My gold has in it too much of alloy;
The purple of my robe too oft adorns
An aching soul; my sweets too often cloy.

Not now: the present has too much of pain—
Too much, alas, of mingled hope and fear;
I set my loss too often 'gainst my gain;
I shall be satisfied not now, not here.

But there! but then! in heaven! when I wake
In His dear likeness who for me once died!
Oh, fount of bliss! in thee once let me slake
My lifelong thirst—I shall be satisfied!

The fishmonger—oh, call him back!
But he has vanished in the hail.

After the shower at Pa-shang,
I see an evening line of wildgeese,
The limp-hanging leaves of a foreign tree,
A lantern's cold gleam, lonely in the night,
An empty garden, white with dew,
The ruined wall of a neighbouring monastery.
… I have taken my ease here long enough.
What am I waiting for, I wonder.

Dear, when I did from you remove,
I left my joy, but not my love;
That never can depart.
It neither higher can ascend,
Nor lower bend.
Fixed in the centre of my heart,
As in his place,
And lodgëd so, how can it change,
Or you grow strange?
Those are earth's properties and base.
Each where, as the bodies divine,
Heaven's lights and you to me will shine.

Among the places old and new
That I have wished to travel to
Is that compounded Tear and Smile
Which people call the Emerald Isle.
And of the prospect I shall find
I have a picture in my mind—
Of moor and meadow, glen and bog,
Of hill and wood, and sea and fog,
And all that fancy understands
By “hollow lands and hilly lands.”

These Irish landscapes I can see
When Lady Gregory talks to me.
The quiet of the lakes and skies
Is in her deep and tranquil eyes;
The dreams of a poetic race

Come down in thy profoundest gloom,
Without one vagrant fire-fly's light,
Beneath thine ebon arch entomb
Earth, from the gaze of heaven, O Night!
A deed of darkness must be done,
Put out the moon, hold back the sun.

Are these the criminals, that flee
Like deeper shadows through the shade?
A flickering lamp, from tree to tree,
Betrays their path along the glade,
Led by a Negro;—now they stand,
Two trembling women, hand in hand.

A grave, an open grave, appears;
O'er this in agony they bend,

Her face as beautye dressed it is butte love
Rouged and whytened in the name of Adam
That his pure eye unveiled forever Eve
Eternal Eve to Immortall Adam
Haire unknotted slipps her backe's fulle cradle
Fullforwarde brestlings straine andde bloome quikly
Thyghflowered wet wombstemmed rosemouthe in the grate
Stainless orcharde of her bellye her hippes
Half-sunkene ivorye moonnes eclectic knees
Eclipse opaquely leaneing towers fromme whiche
Her feete arche the delicate earthe she walkes
Her arms her elbowes perfect snare Eve

Bless my good ship, protecting pow'r of grace!
And o'er the winds, the waves, the destin'd coast,
Breathe benign spirit!—Let thy radiant host
Spread their angelic shields!
Before us, the bright bulwark let them place,
And fly beside us, through their azure fields!

O calm the voice of winter's storm!
Rule the wrath of angry seas!
The fury of the rending blast appease,
Nor let its rage fair ocean's face deform!
O check the biting wind of spring,
And, from before our course,
Arrest the fury of its wing,