168
BELATED.
With sudden echo seemed to fill.
Repeated on each side I heard
In soft rebuke my thoughtless word,
"Belated!"
No! ah, never yet
The smallest reckoning was set
Too slow, too fast, by Nature's hand.
Her hours appointed faithful stand.
Her million doors wide-open stay.
Love cannot lose nor leave his way,
Comes not too soon, comes not too late.
Twin-Flowers and hearts their lovers wait.
Repeated on each side I heard
In soft rebuke my thoughtless word,
"Belated!"
No! ah, never yet
The smallest reckoning was set
Too slow, too fast, by Nature's hand.
Her hours appointed faithful stand.
Her million doors wide-open stay.
Love cannot lose nor leave his way,
Comes not too soon, comes not too late.
Twin-Flowers and hearts their lovers wait.
TO AN UNKNOWN LADY.
There lived a lady who was lovelier
Than anything that my poor skill may paint,—
Though I would follow round the world till faint
I fell, for just one little look at her.
Who said she seemed like this or that did err:
Like her dear self she was, alone,—no taint
From touch of mortal or of earth; blest saint
Serene, with many a faithful worshipper!
There is no poet's poesy would not,
When laid against the whiteness of her meek,
Proud, solemn face, make there a pitiful blot.
It is so strange that I can never speak
Of her without a tear. O, I forgot!
This surely may fall blameless on that cheek!
Than anything that my poor skill may paint,—
Though I would follow round the world till faint
I fell, for just one little look at her.
Who said she seemed like this or that did err:
Like her dear self she was, alone,—no taint
From touch of mortal or of earth; blest saint
Serene, with many a faithful worshipper!
There is no poet's poesy would not,
When laid against the whiteness of her meek,
Proud, solemn face, make there a pitiful blot.
It is so strange that I can never speak
Of her without a tear. O, I forgot!
This surely may fall blameless on that cheek!
From The Riddle of Lovers, Scribner's Monthly for June, 1873.
KNOW a lady-no, I do not knowHer face, her voice; I do not know her name:
And yet such sudden, subtle knowledge came
To me of her one day, that I am slow
To think that if I met her I should go
