And this:—
"Spring afternoons, when delicate shadows fall
Pencilled upon the grass; high summer morns
When white light rains upon the quiet sea
And corn-fields flush with ripeness"
And this:—
"Present and silent and unchangeable
As a celestial portent."
Lastly, the best lyric in the poem:—
"The world is great: the birds all fly from me,
The stars are golden fruit upon a tree
All out of reach: my little sister went,
And I am lonely.
"The world is great: I tried to mount the hill
Above the pines, where the light lies so still,
But it rose higher: little Lisa went,
And I am lonely.
"The world is great: the wind comes rushing by,
I wonder where it comes from; sea-birds cry
And hurt my heart; my little sister went,
And I am lonely.
"The world is great: the people laugh and talk.
And make loud holiday: how fast they walk!
I'm lame, they push me: little Lisa went,
And I am lonely."
Besides the want of spontaneity and simplicity in the verse, there are other points which make us feel, with whatever reluctance to admit the thing we undoubtingly see, that in "The Spanish Gypsy" something is wanting, and in that something everything that endears a poem as a poem. The writing has the diffuseness of literature rather than the condensation of poetry; and, admirable as some of it is, we wish it away: at the lowest, we say to ourselves, if a poet had had
