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But, if the steadfast commandment of Nature
Wills that remembrance should always decay-
If the loved form and the deep-cherished feature
Must, when unseen, from the soul fade away-

Me let no half-effaced memories cumber !
Fled, fled at once, be all vestige of thee!
Deep be the darkness, and still be the slumber-
Dead be the past and its phantoms to me !

Then, when we meet, and thy look strays towards me,
Scanning my face and the changes wrought there,
Who, let me say, is this stranger regards me,
With the grey eyes, and the lovely brown hair?

Matthew Arnold.

CCLXV.

LOVE'S FAREWELL.

A LEAVE-TAKING.

LET us go hence, my songs; she will not hear;
Let us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,
And over all things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as all we love her;
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear.

Let us rise up and part; she will not know.

Let us go seaward as the great winds go,

Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?
There is no help, for all these things are so,

And all the world is bitter as a tear,

And how these things are, though ye strive to show,

She would not know.

Let us go home and hence; she will not weep.
We gave her many dreams and days to keep,

Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not

grow,

Saying, "If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap."

All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow;
And we that sowed, though all we fell in sleep,
She would not weep.

Let us go hence and rest; she will not love.
She shall not hear us if we sing thereof,

Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep.
Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough.

Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep;

And though she saw all heaven in flower above,
She would not love.

Let us give up, go down; she will not care-
Though all the stars made gold of all the air,
And the sea moving saw before it move
One moon-flower making all the foam-flowers fair ;
Though all these waves went over us, and drove,
Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair,
She would not care.

Let us go hence, go home; she will not see.
Sing all once more together; surely she,
She too, remembering days and words that were,
Will turn a little towards us, sighing; but we,

We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not

been there.

Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me,

She would not see.

Algernon Charles Swinburne.

CCLXVI.

LOVE'S FAREWELL.

LONG DEAR, LONG DEAD.

KNEEL not and leave me : mirth is in its grave.

True friend, sweet words were ours, sweet words de

cay.

Believe, the perfume once this violet gave

Lives, lives no more, though mute tears answer Nay.”

Break off delay!

Dead, love is dead! Ay, cancelled is his due.
We say he mocks repose-we cannot tell-
Close up his eyes and crown his head with rue,
Say in his ear, Sweet Love, farewell! farewell!
A last, low knell.

Forbear to move him. Peace, why should we stay?
Go back no more to listen for his tread.

Resume our old calm face of every day :
Not all our kneeling turns that sacred head
Long dear, long dead!

Go with no tear-drop; Love has died before :
Stay, being foolish; being wise, begone.
Let severed ways estrange thy weak heart more ;
Go, unregretful, and refrain thy moan;

Depart alone.

John Leicester Warren.

CCLXVII.

LOVE'S FAREWELL.

THE LAST KISS.

LOVE of love, and light of light,

Love has limit of delight;

Dream and dream, sweet child, again;

Here is no unrest.

Love hath set our moist lips fast;
Kiss one kiss, the longest last;
What tho' weeping-ripe, my girl?
Smile thro' rainy eyes.

Summer from the bough has past,
And the shreds of autumn cast:
What, dear heart, if love be low
Under foot as soon?

We have had a tender suit ;

Lovely words are breath and mute,
Stilled with tears in richest noon,
Gathered to the dead.

Kiss and touch my hand, and part:
Sighs are farewells of the heart.

Dream a moment in thy joy,

Wake a world of tears.

John Leicester Warren.

CCLXVIII.

LOVE PARTED.

FAIR is the night, and fair the day,
Now April is forgot of May,
Now into June May falls away;
Fair day, fair night, O give me back
The like that all fair things did lack
Except my love, except my sweet!

Blow back, O wind! thou art not kind,
Though thou art sweet; thou hast no mind
Her hair about my sweet to wind;
O flowery sward, though thou art bright,
I praise thee not for thy delight;
Thou hast not kissed her silver feet.

Thou know'st her not, O rustling tree;
What dost thou then to shadow me,
Whose shade her breast shall never see?
O flowers, in vain ye bow adown!
Ye have not felt her odorous gown
Brush past your heads my lips to meet.

Flow on, great river-thou mayst deem
That far away, a summer stream,
Thou sawest her limbs amidst thee gleam,
And kissed her foot, and kissed her knee;
Yet get thee swift unto the sea!
With nought of true thou wilt me greet.

And thou that men call by my name,
O helpless one, hast thou no shame
That thou must even look the same,
As while agone, as while agone,
When thou and she were left alone,
And hands, and lips, and tears did meet ?

Grow weak and pine, lay down to die,
O body in thy misery,

Because short time and sweet goes by;
O foolish heart, how weak thou art!
Break, break, because thou needs must part
From thine own love, from thine own sweet.
William Morris.

CCLXIX.

LOVE'S LOSSES.

A TRINKET made like a heart, dear,

Of red gold, bright and fine, Was given me for a keepsake,

Given to me for mine.

And another heart, warm and tender,

As true as a heart could be ;

And every throb that stirred it
Was always and all for me.

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