Willow whiten, aspen quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott.
_From "The Lady of Shalott."_
How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half-dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each other's whispered speech;
Eating the Lotos day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heaped over with a mound of grass--
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!
_From "The Lotos-Eaters."_
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little.
_From "Ulysses."_
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow! Set the wild echoes flying!
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes--dying, dying, dying.
_Song from "The Princess."_
Henceforth thou hast a helper, me, that know
The woman's cause is man's; they rise or sink
Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free:
For she that out of Lethe scales with man
The shining steps of Nature, shares with man
His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal,
Stays all the fair young planet in her hands--
If she be small, slight-natured, miserable,
How shall men grow?
_From "The Princess."_
Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands:
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
_From "Locksley Hall."_
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new,
That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do.
_From "Locksley Hall."_
This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.
_From "Locksley Hall."_
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.
* * * * *
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark.
_From "Crossing the Bar."_
O love! O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
_From "Fatima."_
God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
* * * * *
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
_From poem "To J.S."_
That tower of strength
Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
_From "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington."_
The old order changeth, yielding place to new;
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
_From "The Passing of Arthur."_
Howe'er it be, it seems to me
'T is only noble to be good;
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.
_From "Lady Clara Vere de Vere."_
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies;
A lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright;
But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
_From "The Grandmother."_
And on her lover's arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old.
_From "The Day-Dream."_
There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.
_From "In Memoriam."_