GOOD oars, for Arnold’s sake By Laleham lightly bound, And near the bank, O soft, Darling swan! Let not the o’erweary wake From this his natal ground, But where he slumbered oft, Slumber on.
BETWEEN the wet trees and the sorry steeple, Keep, Time, in dark Soho, what once was Hazlitt, Seeker of Truth, and finder oft of Beauty;
Beauty ’s a sinking light, ah, none too faithful; But Truth, who leaves so here her spent pursuer, Forgets not her great pawn: herself shall claim it.
Therefore sleep safe, thou dear and battling spirit, Safe also on our earth, begetting ever Some one love worth the ages and the nations!
Nothing falls under to thine eyes eternal. Sleep safe in dark Soho: the stars are shining, Titian and Wordsworth live; the People marches.
KEEP holy watch with silence, prayer, and fasting Till morning break, and all the bugles play; Unto the One aware from everlasting Dear are the winners: thou art more than they.
Forth from this peace on manhood’s way thou goest, Flushed with resolve, and radiant in mail; Blessing supreme for men unborn thou sowest, O knight elect! O soul ordained to fail!
LET thoughts go hence as from a mountain spring, Of the great dust of battle clean and whole, And the wild birds that have no nest nor goal Fold in a young man’s breast their trancèd wing; For thou art made of purest Light, a thing Art gave, beyond her own devout control; And Light upon thy seeing, suffering soul Hath wrought a sign for many journeying; Our sign. As up a wayside, after rain, When the blown beeches purple all the height And clouds sink to the sea-marge, suddenly The autumn sun (how soft, how solemn-bright!) Moves to the vacant dial, so is lain God’s meaning Hand, thou chosen, upon thee.
APRIL is sad, as if the end she knew. The maple’s misty red, the willow’s gold Face-deep in nimble water, seem to hold In hope’s own weather their autumnal hue. There is no wind, no star, no sense of dew, But the thin vapors gird the mountain old, And the moon, risen before the west is cold, Pale with compassion slopes into the blue. Under the shining dark the day hath passed Shining; so even of thee was home bereaved, Thou dear and pensive spirit! overcast Hardly at all, but drawn from light to light, Who in the doubtful hour, and unperceived, Rebuked adoring hearts with change and flight.