SEVEN TIMES FIVE.-WIDOWHOOD I SLEEP and rest, my heart makes moan Before I am well awake; "Let me bleed! O let me alone, Since I must not break!" For children wake, though fathers sleep With a stone at foot and at head: O sleepless God, forever keep, Keep both living and dead! I lift mine eyes, and what to see I have not wished it to mourn with me,- Oh, what anear but golden brooms, But a waste of reedy rills! Oh, what afar but the fine glooms On the rare blue hills! I shall not die, but live forlore,— Oh, to meet thee, my love, once more! No more to hear, no more to see! I should know it how faint soe'er, I could be content! Or once between the gates of gold, Songs of Seven SEVEN TIMES SIX.-GIVING IN MARRIAGE To bear, to nurse, to rear, To watch, and then to lose: To bear, to nurse, to rear, To watch and then to lose: This have I done when God drew near To hear, to heed, to wed, And with thy lord depart In tears, that he, as soon as shed, Will let no longer smart, To hear, to heed, to wed, This while thou didst I smiled, For now it was not God who said, "Mother, give ME thy child." O fond, O fool, and blind! To God I gave with tears; But when a man like grace would find, My soul put by her fears, O fond, O fool, and blind! God guards in happier spheres; That man will guard where he did bind Is hope for unknown years. To hear, to heed, to wed, Fair lot that maidens choose, Thy mother's tenderest words are said, Thy face no more she views; Thy mother's lot, my dear, She doth in naught accuse; Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, To love, and then to lose. SEVEN TIMES SEVEN.-LONGING FOR HOME A SONG of a boat: There was once a boat on a billow: Lightly she rocked to her port remote, 413 And the foam was white in her wake like snow, And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow, And bent like a wand of willow. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat I marked her course till a dancing mote, She faded out on the moonlit foam, And I stayed behind in the dear-loved home; I pray you hear my song of a boat My boat you shall find none fairer afloat, In river or port. Long I looked out for the lad she bore, On the open desolate sea, And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, For he came not back to me A song of a nest: There was once a nest in a hollow: Ah me! Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed, Vetches leaned over it purple, and dim, With buttercup buds to follow. I pray you hear my song of a nest, For it is not long: You shall never light in a summer quest The bushes among Shall never light on a prouder sitter, A fairer nestful, nor ever know A softer sound than their tender twitter, I had a nestful once of my own, Ah, happy, happy I! Right dearly I loved them; but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly Songs of Seven Oh, one after one they flew away Far up to the heavenly blue, I pray you what is the nest to me, And what is the shore where I stood to see Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Can I call that home where my nest was set, Nay, but the port where my sailor went, There is the home where my thoughts are sent, The only home for me— Ah me! 415 Jean Ingelow [1820-1897] LOOKING BACKWARD THE RETREAT HAPPY those early days, when I Before I taught my tongue to wound But felt through all this fleshly dress O how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track! In that state I came, return. Henry Vaughan [1622-1695] |