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THE LAST MEMORY
When I am old, and think of the old days, And warm my hands before a little blaze, Having forgotten love, hope, fear, desire, I shall see, smiling out of the pale fire, One face, mysterious and exquisite; And I shall gaze, and ponder over it, Wondering, was it Leonardo wrought That stealthy ardency, where pa.s.sionate thought Burns inward, a revealing flame, and glows To the last ecstasy, which is repose?
Was it Bronzino, those Borghese eyes?
And, musing thus among my memories, O unforgotten! you will come to seem, As pictures do, remembered, some old dream.
And I shall think of you as something strange, And beautiful, and full of helpless change, Which I beheld and carried in my heart; But you, I loved, will have become a part Of the eternal mystery, and love Like a dim pain; and I shall bend above My little fire, and s.h.i.+ver, being cold, When you are no more young, and I am old.
Arthur Symons [1865-
"DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS"
Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She pa.s.sed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the gra.s.s grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
William Butler Yeats [1865-
ASHES OF LIFE
Love has gone and left me, and the days are all alike.
Eat I must, and sleep I will--and would that night were here!
But ah, to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again, with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me, and I don't know what to do; This or that or what you will is all the same to me; But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through-- There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me, and the neighbors knock and borrow, And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse.
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow There's this little street and this little house.
Edna St. Vincent Millay [1892-
A FAREWELL
Thou wilt not look on me?
Ah, well! the world is wide; The rivers still are rolling free, Song and the sword abide; And who sets forth to sail the sea Shall follow with the tide.
Thrall of my darkling day, I va.s.salage fulfil: Seeking the myrtle and the bay, (They thrive when hearts are chill!) The straitness of the narrowing way, The house where all is still.
Alice Brown [1857-
THE PARTED LOVERS
SONG From "Twelfth Night"
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true Love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty Sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty: Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
William Shakespeare [1564-1616]
"GO, LOVELY ROSE"
Go, lovely Rose-- Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Then die--that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
Edmund Waller [1606-1687]
