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We never heard her speak in haste:

Her tones were sweet,
And modulated just so much

As it was meet :
Her heart sat silent through the noise

And concourse of the street.
There was no hurry in her hands,

No hurry in her feet;
There was no bliss drew nigh to her,

That she might run to greet.
You should have wept her yesterday,

Wasting upon her bed :
But wherefore should you weep to-day

That she is dead?
Lo, we who love weep not to-day,

But crown her royal head.

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1 a fur much esteemed in ancient times

THE LOWEST PLACE

Summer or Winter for aught I can say ;
So unrecorded did it slip away,

So blind was I to see and to foresee,

So dull to mark the budding of my tree That would not blossom yet for many a

May.
If only I could recollect it, such

A day of days! I let it come and go

As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; It seemed to mean so little, meant so much; If only now I could recall that touch, First touch of hand in hand Did one but

know!

Give me the lowest place: not that I dare Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast

died That I might live and share

Thy glory by Thy side.

IO

Give me the lowest place: or if for me
That lowest place too high, make one more

low
Where I may sit and see
My God and love Thee so.

8

REMEMBER

JAMES THOMSON (1834–1882)

FROM THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the

hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,

You tell me of our future that you planned:

Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while

9 And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

As I came through the desert thus it was,
As I came through the desert : All was black,
In heaven no single star, on earth no track;
A brooding hush without a stir or note,
The air so thick it clotted in my throat;
And thus for hours; then some enormous things
Swooped past with savage cries and clanking
wings:

But I strode on austere;
No hope could have no fear. 176

a

REST

As I came through the desert thus it was,
As I came through the desert: Eyes of fire
Glared at me throbbing with a starved desire;
The hoarse and heavy and carnivorous breath
Was hot upon me from deep jaws of death;
Sharp claws, swift talons, fleshless fingers cold
Plucked at me from the bushes, tried to hold:

But I strode on austere;
No hope could have no fear. 185

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching,

Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for

mirth With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of

sighs. She hath no questions, she hath no replies, Hushed in and curtained with a blessed

dearth Of all that irked her from the hour of birth; With stillness that is almost Paradise. Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth

her, Silence more musical than any song; Even her very heart has ceased to stir: Until the morning of Eternity Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be; And when she wakes she will not think it

long

As I came through the desert thus it was,
As I came through the desert : Lo you, there,
That hillock burning with a brazen glare;
Those myriad dusky flames with points a-glow
Which writhed and hissed and darted to and

fro; A Sabbath of the Serpents, heaped pell-mell For Devil's roll-call and some fête of Hell :

Yet I strode on austere;
No hope could have no fear. 194

IO

As I came through the desert thus it was,
As I came through the desert: Meteors ran
And crossed their javelins on the black sky-

span;

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12

Give a man a girl he can love,

would beset him at the same moment, always As I, O my Love, love thee;

with this desperate certitude fixed in his spirit : And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate, Among all the expressions in the world, all At home, on land, on sea.

forms and turns of expression, there is but one one form, one mode

- to express what I

want to say." ART

The one word for the one thing, the one

thought, amid the multitude of words, terms, II

that might just do: the problem of style was If you have a carrier-dove

there ! — the unique word, phrase, sentence, That can fly over land and sea;

paragraph, essay, or song, absolutely proper And a message for your Love,

to the single mental presentation or vision “Lady, I love but thee!”

4

within. In that perfect justice, over and

above the many contingent and removable And this dove will never stir

beauties with which beautiful style may But straight from her to you,

charm us, but which it can exist without, And straight from you to her;

independent of them yet dexterously availing As you know an she knows too. 8 itself of them, omnipresent in good work, in

function at every point, from single epithets Will you first ensure, 0

sage,

to the rhythm of a whole book, lay the Your dove that never tires

specific, indispensable, very intellectual, With your message in a cage,

beauty of literature, the possibility of which Though a cage of golden wires ?

constitutes it a fine art.

One seems to detect the influence of a philoOr will you fling your dove:

sophic idea there, the idea of a natural econ"Fly, darling, without rest,

omy, of some preëxistent adaptation, between Over land and sea to my Love,

a relative, somewhere in the world of thought, And fold your wings in her breast ?" 16 and its correlative, somewhere in the world of

language — both alike, rather, somewhere in

the mind of the artist, desiderative, expectant, WALTER PATER (1839-1894) inventive--meeting each other with the readi

ness of “soul and body reunited,” in Blake's! FROM STYLE

rapturous design; and, in fact, Flaubert was fond of giving his theory philosophical expression.

“There are no beautiful thoughts,” he What, then, did Flaubert' understand by would say, “without beautiful forms, and beauty, in the art he pursued with so much conversely. As it is impossible to extract fervour, with so much self-command? Let us

from a physical body the qualities which hear a sympathetic commentator :

really constitute it -- colour, extension, and “Possessed of an absolute belief that there the like without reducing it to a hollow exists but one

way of expressing one thing, one abstraction, in a word, without destroying it; word to call it by, one adjective to qualify, just so it is impossible to detach the form one verb to animate it, he gave himself to from the idea, for the idea only exists by superhuman labour for the discovery, in every virtue of the form." phrase, of that word, that verb, that epithet. All the recognised flowers, the removable In this way, he believed in some mysterious ornaments of literature (including harmony harmony of expression, and when a true word and ease in reading aloud, very carefully conseemed to him to lack euphony still went on sidered by him) counted certainly; for these seeking another, with invincible patience, cer- too are part of the actual value of what one tain that he had not yet got hold of the unique says. But still, after all, with Flaubert, the word. ... A thousand preoccupations search, the unwearied research, was not for

the smooth, or winsome, or forcible word, as · Gustave Flaubert (1821-80), a French novelist, noted for his ideas on the art of writing.

1 William Blake, poet and engraver

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