Volume II Part 1 (1/2)

The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Volume II

POEMS

_THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET._

Can my affections find out nothing best, But still and still remove?

QUARLES.

I.

I plant a tree whose leaf The yew-tree leaf will suit: But when its shade is o'er you laid, Turn round and pluck the fruit.

Now reach my harp from off the wall Where s.h.i.+nes the sun aslant; The sun may s.h.i.+ne and we be cold!

O hearken, loving hearts and bold, Unto my wild romaunt.

Margret, Margret.

II.

Sitteth the fair ladye Close to the river side Which runneth on with a merry tone Her merry thoughts to guide: It runneth through the trees, It runneth by the hill, Nathless the lady's thoughts have found A way more pleasant still Margret, Margret.

III.

The night is in her hair And giveth shade to shade, And the pale moonlight on her forehead white Like a spirit's hand is laid; Her lips part with a smile Instead of speakings done: I ween, she thinketh of a voice, Albeit uttering none.

Margret, Margret.

IV.

All little birds do sit With heads beneath their wings: Nature doth seem in a mystic dream, Absorbed from her living things: That dream by that ladye Is certes unpartook, For she looketh to the high cold stars With a tender human look Margret, Margret.

V.

The lady's shadow lies Upon the running river; It lieth no less in its quietness, For that which resteth never: Most like a trusting heart Upon a pa.s.sing faith, Or as upon the course of life The steadfast doom of death.

Margret, Margret.

VI.

The lady doth not move, The lady doth not dream, Yet she seeth her shade no longer laid In rest upon the stream: It shaketh without wind, It parteth from the tide, It standeth upright in the cleft moonlight, It sitteth at her side.

Margret, Margret.

VII.

Look in its face, ladye, And keep thee from thy swound; With a spirit bold thy pulses hold And hear its voice's sound: For so will sound thy voice When thy face is to the wall, And such will be thy face, ladye, When the maidens work thy pall.

Margret, Margret.

VIII.