English

Where love once was, let there be no hate:
Though they that went as one by night and day
Go now alone,
Where love once was, let there be no hate.

The seeds we planted together
Came to rich harvest,
And our hearts are as bins brimming with the golden plenty:
Into our loneliness we carry granaries of old love ...

And though the time has come when we cannot sow our acres together
And our souls need diverse fields,
And a tilling apart,
Let us go separate ways with a blessing each for each,
And gentle parting,

Once I freed myself of my duties to tasks and people and went down to the cleansing sea …
The air was like wine to my spirit,
The sky bathed my eyes with infinity,
The sun followed me, casting golden snares on the tide,
And the ocean—masses of molten surfaces, faintly grey-blue—sang to my heart …

Then I found myself, all here in body and brain, and all there on the shore:
Content to be myself: free, and strong, and enlarged:
Then I knew the depths of myself were the depths of space,

It was as if myself sat down beside me,
And at last I could speak out to my dear friend,
And tell him, day after day, of the things that were reshaping me.

He was not afraid to hear my deepest secrets:
He was not shocked at my coarseness and trivialities:
He was prepared for my hours of weakness,—and exaltation.
Neither did he judge me by any one moment;
He knew it as a fragment of the impulse that bore me forward.

Yes, these songs were for myself.
But when they were finished, other selves desired them.

Who hath a Iewel excellent and rare,
In a triumphant maner will it weare ;
Letting all see, who view his noble dresse
Lively pourtrayd in Him is noblenesse;
In you a Iewel of high estimate,
Admired Lord, nay of excessive rate,
Making these nobles who the same possesse,

Ever resplendeth, and your happines
Vertues brave Iewel , 'tis indeed to weare ,
Rightly which to your honour doth adhere,
Ever so let that Iewel thine appeare.

PICTURE FIRST.

MIRIAM .

Fair Miriam's was an ancient manse
Upon the open plain:
It looked to ocean's dim expanse,
Saw miles of meadow pasture dance
Beside the breezy main.

A porch, with woodbines overgrown,
Faced eastward to the shore;
While Autumn's sun, through foliage brown,
'Twixt leaf and lattice flickered down
To tesselate the floor.

There walked fair Miriam; — as she stept
A rustle thrilled the air;

To raise Money with the Dead.

I.

'Tis no uncommon Thing, we know.
To move the Living-Race;
But by an Art, divinely rare !
The Dead must now give Place.

II.

Right Master T** L * R , root 'em up,
One Hole will well suffice;
What! single Graves for mould'ring Clay!
Parsons are now Ground wise.

III.

We want more Room, the Church's too small —
This our Whisler 's Plea;
But entre noas his dirty Soul,
Grasps at fresh Burial Fee.
IV.

Upon a certain charitable Divine , who, upon a pious Pretence of enlarging his Church, rooted up the Dead in order to effect this salutary Purpose .

I.

By living Means, most griping Elves,
Scrape precious Pelf to Chest;
But this Divine more subtle grown,
Won't let the Dead take Rest.

II.

Mount but to C — ft — n 's tow'ring Hill,
My weeping Friends, behold,
The pious T* Y ** R brings to Light

Blind as the song of birds,
Feeling its way into the heart, —
Or as a thought ere it hath words, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as a little stream
A dainty hand might guide apart,
Or Love — young Love's delicious dream, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as a slender bark,
Where summer's varying breezes start —
Or blossoms blowing in the dark, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as the Hope, Desire
Leads from the bosom's crowded mart,
Deluded Hope, that soon must tire, —
As blind thou art: —

She came as comes the summer wind,
A gust of beauty to my heart;
Then swept away, but left behind
Emotions which shall not depart.

Unheralded she came and went,
Like music in the silent night;
Which, when the burthened air is spent,
Bequeaths to memory its delight;

Or, like the sudden April bow
That spans the violet-waking rain:
She bade those blessed flowers to grow
Which may not fall or fade again.

Far sweeter than all things most sweet,
And fairer than all things most fair,

Ever may England in it those retaine,
Duly regarding, that a most Stout vaine,
Warding the poore from wrong and violence,
Admiredly possest with Innocence,
Rightly indeed may a Stout ward befriend him,
Duly his countrey it at all times sending.

Stout ward are you Sir, therewith all indu'd,
Vertuously by manly fortitude:
Tend then for ever, as a most Stout ward ,
That nation which hath nourisht you, it guard.
O let your Stoutnesse it so bravely tend,
None may exceed your Nation to befriend.