K. H. D Cecil.

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K. H. D.








Once more fair Spring unfolds her heavenly face,
And joy and happiness every heart pervade ;
Moon with stars renews her divine embrace,
And Nature smiles, with greenest beauty graced.
Nor He blends not His heart with ours, Who made,
For faithless man's delight, each lovely thing,
Bright as His own brightness, of light and shade.
And me doth Spring a bliss sublimer bring,
For in my heart is love, and in my soul sweet Spring.

This Spring is mine and thine and theirs who know

The bliss supreme of unembarrassed love,

I^hat in its even course can give and show

Far other joys that mortals know not of,

Save those whom Muse inspires to woo the grove.

With Spring's return I too return to thee,

For thou art sweet and gentle as a dove ;

And I too in thy love as bold could be

As I am now, when other loves are to 1 en from me.

When o' the past and present I sometimes think,

What I am now, and what I once had been,

And smell in that mood the past wintry stink,

How sweet "am now" sounds to how sad " had been " >

For thou, sweet friend, hast lifted up the screen,

A nd showered in my path warm sunshine bright.

Thou showed to me what I had yet not seen,

What time thy hand split the dark thick-spun night,

And thou gav' st light to dark, to sorrow love's delight.



What I had been ! oh, let me think what I
Am now, when, happy in thy love of me,
My heart is no more stifid with inward sigh ;
I am myself what I should wish to be,
So loving and so loved, so close to thee,
Two blossoms of the kindred plant that seem
T:cin-born, eternal as eternity :
Such love as might ideal lovers dream
On an embalming night, and catch in morn its beam.

What thoughts, what fears, what hopes had once been mine
Thoughts and hopes and fears, unfulfilled, unknown;
Fears that had in them something of divine,
W^hen on this plenteous earth I moved alone,
Nor, though planting, my barren hands had grown
A garden of flowers rich with the voice of Song;
Nor time was ripe, nor were the seeds yet sown.
I Jled from the tumult of the kindred throng,
Alone, apart, and did all to myself belong.

Thoughts like these were mine, such fears and such hopes,

When once i?i sleep a vision did unfold,

A vision that conies and as soon elopes,

That something with a mystery foretold

I knew not what ; yet my weak heart grew bold,

A nd my soul beheld a new world more fair,

Wherein a dweller I was bound to hold

My stand till death, and unpartaken share

Its sorrows and its joys, and anxious toiling care.

A nd Beauty ideal and ideal Love,

Earliest comrades of my pilgrimage lone,

From first were mine, with amplest charms to move

My heart to music which was all its own ;

A nd I a soul descried to music prone.

Which first I poured in thy attentive ear,

Whose breath was with the blending breezes blown ;

This was the voice thy heart leaped up to hear,

Wherein it lay impressed the same from year to year.


On fairest visions I fed my dreaming soul.

And lovely things of divine fairness born,

A nd pensive passions too fiery to control ;

And taught my young pen to paint and adorn

The evening s calm and beauty of the morn ;

Yet in my heart and mind there was no calm,

For oft my heart with fretful thoughts was torn,

And pined and craved for some untasted balm

To cure its inward pain with its unfailing charm.

Mine too in Fancy's wide domain to roam

A mad wanderer, and traverse through the field

Of Poesy, with heart fickle as the foam,

And bound like Nature 1 s solitary child,

While voice of song my lonely way beguiled;

Yet love was none, nor the lustre of it shown ;

Love of a kindred soul had yet not smiled.

Thick o'er my eyes a heavy veil was thrown,

And my heart sighed and sobbed, until it was withdrawn.

Within my heart there was a blank and void,
Which Love's sweet presence serene did yet not fill,
Whose absence had my holy peace destroyed ;
A nd oft I sobbed and groaned and hoped, and still
Despaired, and trusted to the heave?ily will.
Oh, what hot tears I wept, and wailed aloud,
I knew not why, some want my heart did feel.
Fretful as a child in its new-wrapped shroud,
I was wandering through sunshine like a lonely cloud.

Till thou, sweet friend, with thy spring- sweetness came,

And poured it in my wintry cup, and thou

A nd I became one person and one name ;

As e'en this hour serene can show me now

That thou the same mark bearest on thy brow

Of that spontaneous love which thou didst first

Bring to my heart, when cares had laid it low,

To glut with thy gift its long-lurking thirst

For love and happiness, when with drear sorrow curst.


This was of my life the springliest spring,
Full woven with all flowers by a hand of might ;
When thou with thy love sudden bliss didst bring,
And I had amplest of my heart's delight,
A nd my sad soul ceased with itself to fight.
How from a heavenly dream I o?tce awoke,
One serenest morn of a dreariest night,
That cleared from my sight the long mist of smoke,
And opened out the light of love, when my slumber broke.

Oh, how angelic was that love supreme,
Love long felt at heart, yet not breathed in word,
That well had been a dreaming poet's theme,
Till I could know wherefore thy blood so stirred !
I thence full-falling on thy bosom heard
The mystic working of heart's inmost core,
Whose meaning had thy lips so long deferred.
Then did thy heart in mine its secret pour,
And la sharp arrow felt, never felt before.

Therefore, since love profound and bliss have been

The itoblest portion of our life so blest,

Where Sun shines bright and leaves no cloud between,

Take thou this book of Song, and keep it prest,

Since thou and I are one, to thy sweet breast,

That thee the keeping it may keep the same,

(A sure relief when thou art sore opprest}

And thou and I for ever be one name,

And all my joys and sorrows thine, my fame thy fame !

Therefore, friend more dear than the coming child
To its expectant mother, or sudden rain
To starving soil that smiles, as first thou smiled
On my cold heart, and cleaved its inward pain,
Take thou these songs, though of a feeble strain,
And though their infant tone be far from pure,
For their voice once hushed will not speak again.
O therefore take, and pray they may endure
Beyond the grave, that I may of their fate be sure.


Would I could give for thy dear sake yet more,

That thou may' st prize thy first-and-last-made choice,

And mine in thy own heart more music pour,

And in its core the echo of my voice,

That thou mayst hear it, and thy soul rejoice!

Drink we from cup of love, O yet more drink,

So that when my immortal soul doth poise

Between the unseen world's and this world* s brink,

The voice that once thou heardst may in thy heart yet ring.



To My Only Beloved . I

The Promise of Life 5

Dedicated to My Mother 7

Invocation to the Ideal Poetess ....... 14

England's Glory and Immortality , .16

Fairies and the Ideal 18

A Ballad in Reverence of Death 20

A Glorious Night 22

The Vanished Vision of Love 23

The Lovers 24

Hymn to the Dear Hill 34

Life and Death 38

Virtue's Lament .......... 39

My Lucy's Love .......... 42

Desires 43

Freedom ........... 44

Chatterton 45

The Universal Hymn . . . . . . . . 51

Intimations ........... 56

The Meeting-Day of Poets in Heaven 58

The Lasting Impressions of Nature . . . . . .61

Spring 64

Friendship 66



The Morning Song of the Sun 68

A Vision Beyond the Sea 70

Hymn to the Goddess of Poesy 73

The Immortal Land ......... 76

Listening to an Invisible Bird ....... 79

To My Felicia 82

The Man and the World 82

The Secrets 85

Keats 86

In Love of Death 88

Beloved's Mourning 89

Nightingale 90

The Rose that Died for her Sister 91

The Lover's Song of Joy on his Return Home 93

Lines Written on Leaving the Hill of 94

The Passing of a Strange Soul 99

Moon loo

A Song of Misery .......... 104

Winter and Spring Song ........ 105

In Memoriam : R. H. W 1 1 1

To Elizabeth Browning 115

To Shelley 118

The Ideal Lover's Ideal Found ! 119

The Singing 124

A Voice Unheard Before . . . . . . . 125

The Solitary Lover of Man and Nature . . . . . .125

A Song 132

The Voice that Called out '' Come, Come " . . . . .132

The Poet's Soul 133

Victoria 135

On Looking at Shelley's Face in a Photograph of the Poet . . 141

The Golden Stairs 141

The Ideal Poet 142

Sister and Brother 146

The Man of the World 149



In Memoriam : M. H. W 150

Invocation ........ 153

A Vision of My Mother 154

What is It? 155


Nature Never Melancholy . . . . . . .156

The Precocious Child . . 162

An Ode to the Morn .164

What Is and What Should Be 166

A Sacred Ode 170

Across the Sunset . . . . . . . . - 1 ?!

Eternal Grandeurs . . 174

The Old Bard's Complaints 178

The Poet and the Poet's Fame 181

Sunset Beauties and Hour of Contemplation . . . . 184

Skylark 186

An Ode to the Fallen Muse 188

The Effect of Nature ' . . .193

The Lover's Desires 193

Where is the Giving ? 194

A Desire for the Sea 195

Heart's Secret Cravings 196

A Dirge 198

To a Bird flying Earthward from the Skies 199

The Inexpressible . . . . . . . . . .201

Sweet Maid of my Ideal Love ....... 202

A Solemn Invocation ......... 203

The Spirit of Love .......... 206

Boyhood 218

Is there no God ? 220

Lines Written on a Moonlight Night at the Lovely Hill . 224

Lines Written on the Hill 227

The Poetic Grandfather and the Grandchild 230



Secrets Revealed after Death 232

A Vision of the Prophet 233

The Divine Lovers 235

To the Virtuous Lady whose Sole Delight was Chastity and Poesy 237

Dejection Consoled 238

The Poetess of the Wood 240

The Soul to the Flesh 242

The Call 243

" Break, Break, O Weeping Heart ! " 244

The Hating Lover to the Hated Beloved 245

On Looking into Shelley's Eyes in a Photograph of the Poet . 246

For Three Things am I Born 247

Disappointment 248

My Love's Influence 250

A Lament and an Advice 251

" Wilt Thou Love Me as I Love Thee ?" 252

41 Sleep, Sleep, Sleep " 253

The Infant's Death 254

To Jealousy 255

The Indescribable 257


Milton 259

Nightingale 259

Wordsworth .......... 260

Reflections 260

Rose 261

A Disappointment . . ' . . , . . . .261

Shakespeare 261

To the Deity 262

To the same 262

Fame 263

Love's Appeal to Love . 263

My Mother 264

Keats . . 264


SONNETS (cont.) :


Life and Death ......... 264

In continuation of the same . . . . . . . 265

Beauty Indestructible ........ 265

Joy Beyond Grief ......... 266

A Peep Beyond ......... 266

Love's Assurance 267

To My Father .......... 267

Lost Love 268

To- 268

To my Friend ........ 268

To my Silent Friend 269

To my Absent Friend . ...... 269

Time's Eternity ......... 270

To Sir Henry Irving ........ 270



O LOVE that art, and art to be,

love whose breath is in my breath,
And even in the breath of death,
Breathe but for me, and live in me

1 love but thee but thee adore ;

And more thou canst not take from me ;

For all is given unto thee,

None but thy God can love thee more.

The worship of my heart and soul
To thee I pledged with Love's own troth ;
My heart is boiling like the broth,
And all my thoughts for ever roll

To one sweet thought the thought of thee.
My thoughts are waves, thy heart the shore,
Whereon they break for evermore
With Love's sweet, silent agony.

Thou with thy love hast filled the blank"
In the fragrant garden of Love,
Wherein we stand and lift above
Our hearts in mutual prayer and thank.



I knew not yet what thou didst mean,
Although my eyes looked love on thee ;
I knew not yet if thou on me
Smiled with the smiles of love serene,

Till there, from thy unlying tongue,
Fell on my ears, " I love thee, love !
And all my inner passions move
To thee alone ; Love hath unstrung

His piercing bow within my heart,
And loosed my very soul to thine,
With therein something of divine,
That cannot wither, cannot part."


Thus spake thy love, and rilled my soul
With fragrance of a fadeless rose ;
And as the sun his splendour throws
On things he loves, not part, but whole,

So thou, my sun, with radiant beams
Purged off my soul with thy own light,
And woke it to some pure delight,
Which even at this moment seems

Some joy I could not hope to find,
Some dream the dreamer only dreams,
And finds not, as in sleep it seems,
Whose only home is heart and mind,

Some heaven of heav'ns, some paradise,
Which I, unworthy there to live,
Could hope and dare not to achieve,
More fit for spirits of the skies.


Ah me ! 'tis the excess of love
That makes its joy too much for me ;
Makes myself too little for thee,
And thee too much for me to love.


I know, and thou too knowest it,
That love can never dry or fade,
Nor hatred cloud it with its shade,
If soul have aught to do with it.

The love to which soul puts its flame

In mute abhorrence of the flesh ;

The love which counts as naught but trash

The love which, born of flesh, brings shame,

Hath sure in it the touch of God,
The seraph's word, the angel's heart,
Unbitten by a pain or smart,
To faith and faithfulness betrothed.

And if the light of this pure love
Clothe in its radiance undefiled
Thy soul and mine, and like the child,
Borrowing its breath from heav'ns above,

Keep thee and me for ever pure
In sameness of the heart and soul,
In union of the whole with whole,
And ever of each other sure,

What boon there were on mortal earth,
Oh, what boon more heavenly than this,
What purer joy, what mightier bliss,
What happier way to death from birth

That we should crave? if both were one,
And soul with soul, hand clasped in hand,
Together on Love's Parnassus stand,
Eternal as the lasting sun.


Of that sweet night it is the morn,
That lovely April night of spring,
When, conscious of the hidden thing
With whose hiding my heart was torn,


My heart, by might of Love subdued,
Too weak its passions to restrain,
And too bold longer to refrain,
In broken accents harsh and rude

Poured out its tale within thy heart,
And startled it with words most strange,
And thou didst glance for glance exchange,
Full looking up " No more to part ! "

" No more to part," my heart replied,
" For ever one in death and life,
Both one through life's most weary strife,"
And oh, I found thee by my side.


It was the time of full-blown spring,
When love, as equally full-blown,
Afraid lest it be overgrown,
And, like an over-nurtured thing,

Be killed by food it fed upon,
Passed down its stream within thy heart,
Wherefrom it nowhere could depart,
Though life itself were dead and gone.

Let that spring which hath given birth
To this our spring-like love supreme,
Mellow with every hallowed dream
Our mutual lot on mortal earth ;

And may the wintry footsteps cold
Not ever cross our blissful way,
Which spring keeps fresh from day to day
With leaves of love bedecked with gold ;

Nor clouds of hate may come between,
Our love to darken with their gloom ;
But let that love for ever bloom
Like one eternal sunshine green.


Though all leaves and flow'rs faded be,
And things of Nature born, be gone,
Our love for ever shall flow on
Like one vast and eternal sea.


When I, with more than kingly pride,
Crowned thee with more than royal crown
Of Love, over thy ringlets brown,
With joy I found thee by my side.

Then keep me ever by thy side,
Full fragrant with the breath of love,
Which death itself cannot remove,
Unconscious conqueror of my pride !

From thee, O love, I will not stray ;
My thoughts for thee will wander far,
As moon's thoughts wander for her star :
My love will keep no holiday.

Then be for ever what thou art,
Nor change, nor hate, nor coldness know ;
And I am thine, be weal or woe,
Loving and living in thy heart.
LONDON, April 27^, 1902.


THIS unto thee, since thou the task ordained,

Beloved ! I with many a hope commend !

Since but for thee I might have else refrained,

It is but fit for thee that thou shouldst lend

Thine ears to my song, though it be not meet

To tempt them with its voice, or charm thy soul.

Yet, beloved ! so gentle and so sweet,

Since the whole of mine hath mingled with thy whole,

Let Love, which bound us twain in one, and shed

A new light from Heaven all around our way,


Accept this song with blessings on my head,

Unworthy to survive another da)'.

I have not made this song to prove again,

Or to infer the warmth and strength of love.

The song I make is of a nobler strain :

Love prompts it, and Heaven inspires from above.

Therefore, O heart of heart, this unto thee,
With faithful pledges of a lasting love,
I offer with a secret ecstasy !
And if the thoughts therein thy soul can move
To something nobler than the common aims
Of common hearts, and higher raise thy mind,
I then might buy what Love but justly claims,
And leave a treasure in thy heart behind.

The promise given by thy lips and mine,

The blended promise of a golden life,

Illumined by the light of love divine,

Will yet be fulfilled in the future wife.

That promise sweet was sealed up in the kiss

When lips with lips their mute conference held,

Speaking joy, and portending future bliss.

Thy vow, " I will be true," my doubts dispelled,

Which like a mountain pressed against my heart,

And buried it beneath its awful force,

Which thou for good removed, " I will not part."

Our love, which sprang from the soul's intercourse,

And not from the desire of flesh for flesh,

Will shine like a star of eternal light,

And behind will leave nothing to abash

Thy soul or mine, but keep them ever bright

In its own radiance clothed. And Hope will tear,

Hope born of Love, which born for ever is,

The thickest veil of gloomiest despair,

And dream and feed upon the dawning bliss.

What, then, should a huge and tremendous world

Of dark-miened jealousy and scorn and hate

With all their bitter blows be 'gainst us hurled ?

These hostilities never can create

A change in us ; for ever still the same,

For ever and for ever, uninjured we


Will stand the war, glorying in the fame

Of faithful love, and care not what it be !

Where lesser and less certain hearts might yield

To the might of such crushing cannonade,

We shall, hand in hand, in the hostile field

Unshaken stand, cover'd 'neath the glorious shade

Of love ! Of love the loveless knows not aught,

Whose heart, imbued with vulgar thoughts, believes

That love is such a thing as could be bought

By gold or the glamour of luxuries.

The love that made my soul leap up to thine

Felt its own strength a thousandfold more sure

When thy sweet soul responded unto mine,

And shed its smiles benign for evermore.

The golden promise with its hidden sense,

Which I, first gazing in thy honest eyes,

Read in their silence speaking eloquence,

Love will maintain in its own paradise,

And keep for ever fresh and green like spring.

Thence are we free : let, then, betide what will,

Come hate or spite, or slander's thundering,

Love gave the promise, and Love keeps it still.


Now sets the sun with a long farewell sigh
To breathe light and heat on the God-bless'd Land,
Where one, that seems so far and yet so nigh,
Lives for aye, and bestrides the golden sand ;
And bends with benediction down from high,
O'er my oblivious eyes, her blessing hand.

So guards the dear watch-hand from night to night,
Though the hand I see not by dark or light,
Save what the suns that set and suns that rise
On the azure and the horizon skies
Show of the image to my wandering eyes
Show what doth to my soul seem fair and bright.


Lo ! the evening heavens hang over the earth,
And the deep skies embrace the ocean's breast
With one word only on their golden crest,
One word only in fading grandeur drest,
For despair that sees not aught beyond death,
That death is gateway to a higher birth.

Behold ! the sun sinks in his western cave,
And slowly dies away the sobbing wave,
And hushed is its music in its ocean-grave.
Aye, even so declines the burning sun.
Of life, to God predestined to return,
When by the soul advised the earth to spurn.

Life is death, not death, death's life ; death will live
When all that lives is dead. And who would live
And not die, since to live is but to grieve ?
And who would grieve at death, since death is life,
Where all things with love infinite are rife
Where live no more nor pain nor grief nor strife ?

And must I live and grieve, from me to miss

Thee, mother ? dearest pledge of all my bliss !

The star whose womb was fraught with Heaven's own light,

Uneclipsed through each light-eclipsing night.

That now for all time thou hast crost the bar,

Now like a god thou watchest from afar ?

If grief be pure that grieves from inmost heart
For one, once so nigh, now for e'er apart,
Take to thy heart the offering of that grief,
This sad offering of all my griefs the chief !
And let thy face the morrow-rising sun
Beam forth, that doth across my vision run.

Nor is my grief not pure that grieves from heart
Of hearts, so thick with inward tears convuls'd.
For whom there's now no ceasing of the pulse,
Deny not this requiem, which is a part
Of my soul, that like star-abandoned sky,
So tries to find thee near, yet finds not nigh.

If tears be the measure of that large grief

That, like love's hot fire, where it burns, consumes,


Take this moisten'd wreath to thy sacred tomb,
This filial tear-embalm'd wreath, and give relief !
Of the white garland is suffused each leaf
With tears, as the shore with the wailing foam.

There with the parting sun, thy parted son
Low prays to send this fadeless memory's wreath
Take, and with the morn's messenger return
A word of thanks. Let his first-risen ray
Show what is never shown by night or day,
That I may hold my peace thy smile beneath.

Not shown by night, because the moon is hid !
Oh, I am blind ! beyond, afar, I see
In one peculiar star that opes its lid,
While all its sisters might in slumber be,
Thy face God in His Spirit doth transform,
Which fills my eyes and makes my bosom warm.

Not seldom on many a starless night,
Have I seen in Heaven one lingering light,
Pure and transcendent 'mong the starry crowd,
Beckoning through the uneclipsing cloud,
Like an eye peeping from th ; ethereal shroud,
Impressed with thy face for my heart's delight.

I have seen the face of the sun-bathed morn,
And oft have I beheld Heaven's eldest child,
What time he hath with love paternal smiled ;
And I have seen with eyes, with raptures wild,
Upon his shoulders hung thy face full-born,
Which God in His own splendour doth adorn !

I have seen thy light, mother ! I have seen
What other eyes have not ; and it hath been
To me a saviour who could intervene
For those dark sins which taint this life of mine ;
Nay more a comfort, and a guide divine,
My second god that on my soul doth shine.

Thee have I built a temple in my heart,

Where kneels my weeping soul, and hourly prays


To invoke thy aid in all its winding ways
Through the earth's tour, that calms awhile the smart,
Which like a worm must cling through lifelong days ;
For when I wake, O woe ! thou art apart.

Alas, woe still is me ! though Spring is come,
And smiles benediction around thy tomb,
Joy returns not with the returning Spring.
Thence, my mother ! thence waft .me on thy wing,
And find my soul, which e'er to thee shall cling,
A peaceful home in thy empyreal Home !

How shine the sun and moon ! but not for me,
O not for me ! O never, never more !
Whom joy joys not, but grief eternal feeds,
Nor fame delights, wrought of immortal deeds ;
For thou, mother, art driven from this shore,
And borne to the sea of Eternity.

To me nor joy remains, nor aught of bliss,

Me, thy poor son of misery and woe !

Whom death, though oft invoked, remains a foe,

Save that I bend at th' inner altar low,

And weep, and pray, and thy dear image kiss,

Rejoicing in the momentary bliss.

Me no more the sweet forest-songs delight,

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