Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

I DON'T know thee, Sórrow,
Háve no wish to know thee,

Drooping líds and moist cheeks.

Yét methinks I 've seen thee -
Áh! I now remember –
Twice before I 've seen thee,
Dísmal, black - robed Sorrow.

First when on her deathbed
Láy my noble móther
And with failing breath breathed
Blessings on her children,

There beside the deathbed
f behéld thee, Sorrow,
Wring thy hánds in ánguish,
And the scálding tear shed.

Next I saw thee, Sorrow,
Sitting bý my Ann Jane's
Néw - made moúnd sepulchral
In the vále of Sárca.

Nó tear thén thy cheek wet,
Nór didst thoú thy hánds wring,
Bút beside the gráve sat'st
Gázing on the fresh earth;

Ón the fresh earth gazing
Mótionless as scúlptured
Moúrner in a church aisle,
Inside á tomb's railing.

Toó, too well, I know thee,
Súnk cheeked, réd eyed Sorrow;
Hié thee to the gráveyard,
Hére there 's nó place for thee.

TOURNAY (BELGIUM), Nov. 15, 1854.

AH! it 's háted dáybreak,
Ånd the dear dreams vanish,
Visions of the past time,
Fáces of the wéll loved.

Once again she has left me
Hére alóne to moúrn her,
Shé that báde me fárewell

Wáved her hand and said: – "James,
Hénceforth wé meet never
Bút in dreams and visions
óf the deep and dead night;

“Then we 'll sometimes meét, James,
As of old we met oft,
And while we 're together
Think we 've never párted."

Flý fly, háted dáylight!
Sweet night, come again quick!
Till again I meet her
Whó by dáylight néver

Meets me since we párted
In the vále of Sárca --
Would there were no dáylight,

Bút deep midnight ever!
TOURNAY (BELGIUM), Nov. 16, 1854.

I WOULD not believe it,
Though a thousand swóre it,
Thát the great and good God
Púnishes his creatures ;

Why did hé so make them -
Thát same great and good God --
With those powerful pássions
And that púny foresight?

Like the boiling láva,
Like the hówling témpest,
Like the rolling thúnder,
Like the flashing lightning,

Rúshing unexpected
Cómes the passion on them;

Whére 's the power to stáy it?

Áh, the hápless creatures !
Hów they ’re tórn and táttered
Bý the ráging pássions
Given them by the good God!

Stealthily creep on them,
Still it comes as súrely,
Thé insidious pássion;

Coils itself aboút them,
Squeezes bones and marrow,
With its fángs their flesh nips,
Spírts its vénom ón them.

Ảh the hapless creatures
Bitten, squeézed and poisoned
Bý the venomous pássions
Given them by the good God!

Hé it is I 'd púnish
Whó the pássions gáve them,
Nót the hápless creatures
Victims of the pássions.

Walking from FLEURUS to FONTAINE L’EVEQUE, HAINAULT (BELGIUM); Nov. 11, 1854.

Betrothed maiden sings.

WELCOME! welcome! welcome!
Pretty cléft-tailed swallow,
Twittering at my window
Júst before the súnrise.

Where hast been all winter,
Pretty cléft - tailed swallow,
În what pleásant wárm lands
Fár beyond the deep sea ?

Téll me hást thou seen him, My hardheárted truélove, Whó last aútumn léft me Ánd took shipping southward;

Fór the soúth took shipping
Ånd alone here left me
To watch fór him álways
Ánd look álways southward.

Yés yes, thoú hast seen him, Bring'st good tidings of him: Thát he 's well and happy; Thát he 's homeward coming;

« PredošláPokračovať »