The Triumph of Music, and Other Lyrics

WHY?

Why smile high stars the happier after rain?Why is strong love the stronger after pain?Ai me! ai me! thou wotest not nor I!Why sings the wild swan heavenliest when it dies?Why spake the dumb lips sweetest that we prizeFor maddening memories? O why! O why!Why are dead kisses dearer when they're dead?Why are dead faces lovelier vanished?And why this heart-ache? None can answer why!

FROM UNBELIEF TO BELIEF

Why come ye here to sigh that I,Who with crossed wrists so peaceless lieBefore ye, am at rest, at rest!For that the pistons of my bloodNo more in this machinery thud?And on these eyes, that once were blestWith magnetism of fire, are prestThin, damp, pale eyelids for a sheath,Whereon the bony claw of DeathHath set his coins of unseen lead,Stamped with the image of his head?Why come ye here to weep for one,Who is forgotten when he's goneFrom ye and burthened with this restYour God hath given him! unsoughtOf any prayers, whiles yet he wrought, —And with what sacrifices bought!Low, sweet communion mouth to mouthOf thoughts that dewed eternal droughtOf Life's bald barrenness, – a jest,An irony hath grown confessedWhen he's at rest! when he's at rest!Why come ye, fools! – ye lie! ye lie!Rashly! the grave, for such as I,Hath naught that lies as near this restAs your high Heaven lies near your Hell!I see why now that it is wellThat men but know the husk-like shell,Which like a fruit the being kept,That swinked and sported, woke and slept;From which that stern essential stept,That ichor-veined inhabitantWho makes me all myself, in allMy moods the "I" original,That holds one orbit like a star,Distinct, to which a similarThere never was, and be there can't.And as it is, it is the bestThat Death hath my poor body dressedIn such fair semblance of a rest,Which soothes the hearts of those distressed;But, God! unto the dead the jestOf this his rest, of this his rest!

THE KING

A blown white bubble buoyed zenith-ward,Up from the tremulous East the round moon swungMist-murky, and the unsocial stars that thronged,Hot with the drought, thick down the empty West,Winked thirstily; no wind to rouse the leaves,That o'er the glaring road lolled palpitant,Withered and whitened of the weary dustFrom iron hoofs of that gay fellowshipOf knights which gat at morn the king disguised;Whose mind was, "in the lists to joust and beAn equal mid unequals, man with man:"Who from the towers of Edric passed, whereinSome nights he'd sojourned, till one morn a hornSang at dim portals, musical with dew,Wild echoes of wild woodlands and the hunt,Clear herald of the staunchest of his knights;And they to the great jousts at CamelotRode pounding off, a noise of steel and steeds.Thick in the stagnant moat the lilies layGhastly and rotting; hoarse with rusty chainsThe drawbridge hung before the barbed grate;And far above along lone battlements,His armor moon-drenched, one great sentinelClanked drowsily, and it was late in June,She at her lattice, lawny night-robed, leanedDreaming of somewhat dear, and happy smiledFrom glorious eyes; a face like gracious nights,One silent brilliancy of steadfast starsInnumerable and delicate through the dusk:Long, loosened loops and coils of sensuous hairRolled turbulence down naked neck and throat,That shamed the moonshine with a rival sheen.One stooped above her till his nostrils drankRich, faint perfumes that blossomed in her hair,And 'round her waist hooped one strong arm and drewHer mightily to him; soft burying deepIn crushed fresh linen warm with flesh his arm,Searched all her eyes until his own were druggedMad with their fire, quick one hungry kiss,Like anger bruised fierce on her breathless lips,Whispered, "And lov'st but one? and he?""Sweet, sweet my lord, thou wotest well!" and thenFrom love's stern beauty writhen into hate'sGnarled hideousness, he haled her sweet, white faceBack, back by its large braids of plenteous hairTill her full bosom's clamorous speechlessnessStiff on the moon burst white, low mocked and laughed,"The King, I wot, adulteress!" and a bladeGlanced thin as ice plunged hard, hard in her heart.