Part 31

A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld, -- The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.

But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies, -- Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies.

XI.

THE LOVERS.

The rose did caper on her cheek, Her bodice rose and fell, Her pretty speech, like drunken men, Did stagger pitiful.

Her fingers fumbled at her work, -- Her needle would not go; What ailed so smart a little maid It puzzled me to know,

Till opposite I spied a cheek That bore another rose; Just opposite, another speech That like the drunkard goes;

A vest that, like the bodice, danced To the immortal tune, -- Till those two troubled little clocks Ticked softly into one.

XII.

In lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down, Whose bonnets touch the firmament, Whose sandals touch the town, --

Meek at whose everlasting feet A myriad daisies play. Which, sir, are you, and which am I, Upon an August day?

XIII.

The moon is distant from the sea, And yet with amber hands She leads him, docile as a boy, Along appointed sands.

He never misses a degree; Obedient to her eye, He comes just so far toward the town, Just so far goes away.

Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand, And mine the distant sea, -- Obedient to the least command Thine eyes impose on me.

XIV.

He put the belt around my life, -- I heard the buckle snap, And turned away, imperial, My lifetime folding up Deliberate, as a duke would do A kingdom's title-deed, -- Henceforth a dedicated sort, A member of the cloud.

Yet not too far to come at call, And do the little toils That make the circuit of the rest, And deal occasional smiles To lives that stoop to notice mine And kindly ask it in, -- Whose invitation, knew you not For whom I must decline?

XV.

THE LOST JEWEL.

I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep."

I woke and chid my honest fingers, -- The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.

XVI.

What if I say I shall not wait? What if I burst the fleshly gate And pass, escaped, to thee? What if I file this mortal off, See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, -- And wade in liberty?

They cannot take us any more, -- Dungeons may call, and guns implore; Unmeaning now, to me, As laughter was an hour ago, Or laces, or a travelling show, Or who died yesterday!

III. NATURE.

MOTHER NATURE.

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, -- Her admonition mild