555 556 557 558 'Do You REMEMBER ME?' 'Do you remember me? or are you proud?' Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimm'd crowd, Ianthe said, and looked into my eyes. 'A yes, a yes, to both: for Memory Where you but once have been must ever be, FOR AN EPITAPH AT FIESOLE Lo! where the four mimosas blend their shade For ere he slept he saw them planted here By her his soul had ever held most dear, And he had lived enough when he had dried her tear. ON LUCRETIA BORGIA'S HAIR BORGIA, thou once wert almost too august ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY I STROVE With none; for none was worth my strife, I warmed both hands before the fire of life, 559 TO MY NINTH DECADE To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; 560 561 562 DEATH STANDS ABOVE ME DEATH stands above me, whispering low ON LIVING TOO LONG Is it not better at an early hour In its calm cell to rest the weary head, While birds are singing and while blooms the bower, THOMAS HOOD [1798-1845] FAIR INES O SAW ye not fair Ines? O turn again, fair Ines, For fear the Moon should shine alone, And stars unrivall'd bright; And blessed will the lover be That walks beneath their light, And breathes the love against thy cheek Would I had been, fair Ines, That gallant cavalier, Who rode so gaily by thy side, That he should cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear? I saw thee, lovely Ines, It would have been a beauteous dream,— Alas, alas! fair Ines, She went away with song, With Music waiting on her steps, But some were sad, and felt no mirth, In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell, To her you've loved so long. Farewell, farewell, fair Ines! So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before, Alas for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shore! The smile that bless'd one lover's heart Has broken many more! Loop up her tresses Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Alas! for the rarity O! it was pitiful! Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly Feelings had changed: Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: |