Poems (Hardy)/Sonnets of a lover
SONNETS OF A LOVER
I
I KNOW not, O God, what chrism shall be mine,
Of loss, thorn-crowned, or love supreme and whole;
But let it be that I may bear my soul
Blameless though afraid before that divine
Ark, where 'mid angels' wings thou didst enshrine
The Nobler Love. Take Thou of thought control
Until upon my breast the sacred stole
Of Love's investiture may fitly shine.
Thou dost instruct me; light is not withheld;
I would exalt myself to that I know,
For her whom I shall choose; for her would rise
Above myself; for her would haste, compelled
To holiest heights of being, there to go
Comrade of stars, frequenter of the skies.
Of loss, thorn-crowned, or love supreme and whole;
But let it be that I may bear my soul
Blameless though afraid before that divine
Ark, where 'mid angels' wings thou didst enshrine
The Nobler Love. Take Thou of thought control
Until upon my breast the sacred stole
Of Love's investiture may fitly shine.
Thou dost instruct me; light is not withheld;
I would exalt myself to that I know,
For her whom I shall choose; for her would rise
Above myself; for her would haste, compelled
To holiest heights of being, there to go
Comrade of stars, frequenter of the skies.
II
Could you let my heart speak, O lady fair,
And tell how, ever exalting love and you,
It has uplifted life and led it through
The lowlands, up the high and sunlit stair
Of duty,—oh, if you could, you might care
A little for this rose,—love's blossoming true,—
Sprung by the path where you have brushed the dew
In passing; and a little I might share
The thought thus wakened, and a little cherish
This rose, that wistful rears its tender head
Looking to Love's domain; there would it shrine
Its joyous boughs about our home, nor perish
Though thou and I were numbered with the dead,
Though there thy heart lay buried low with mine.
And tell how, ever exalting love and you,
It has uplifted life and led it through
The lowlands, up the high and sunlit stair
Of duty,—oh, if you could, you might care
A little for this rose,—love's blossoming true,—
Sprung by the path where you have brushed the dew
In passing; and a little I might share
The thought thus wakened, and a little cherish
This rose, that wistful rears its tender head
Looking to Love's domain; there would it shrine
Its joyous boughs about our home, nor perish
Though thou and I were numbered with the dead,
Though there thy heart lay buried low with mine.
III
A bird sings in the garden of my heart,
And all day long I hear its carol clear;
At night it folds its gentle wings so near,
Its tender pulsings stir my blood and start
The tears within my eyes to think love's art
Should stay her wings with me and make so dear
The rude wild bowers of my demesne, nor fear
But she should find her spirit's counterpart.
All day I go resolved and thinking how
To make more sweet for her that garden place;
How I will pluck away the weeds, the rose
Of love to plant there for her nesting-bough;
How I will school my heart to every grace
That it may be her home, her one repose.
And all day long I hear its carol clear;
At night it folds its gentle wings so near,
Its tender pulsings stir my blood and start
The tears within my eyes to think love's art
Should stay her wings with me and make so dear
The rude wild bowers of my demesne, nor fear
But she should find her spirit's counterpart.
All day I go resolved and thinking how
To make more sweet for her that garden place;
How I will pluck away the weeds, the rose
Of love to plant there for her nesting-bough;
How I will school my heart to every grace
That it may be her home, her one repose.
IV
As Dante's soul uplifted, whiter grew
When thinking Beatrice's prayer would be
For his ennobling, so mine turns to thee,
My heart's astronomer, to find the clue
To guiding stars yet hidden from my view,
But risen to thine. The clouded orbs I see
Through mists of earth, barely suffice to me
To show the devious path I still pursue.
Could I conspire with the archangel there
Before thy heart's flame-guarded paradise!
Fear not, sweet spirit; I should walk unshod
Its ways, and kneeling where thou kneel'st at prayer,
If I should hear my faltered name, arise
Assured of life, of love, of thee, of God.
When thinking Beatrice's prayer would be
For his ennobling, so mine turns to thee,
My heart's astronomer, to find the clue
To guiding stars yet hidden from my view,
But risen to thine. The clouded orbs I see
Through mists of earth, barely suffice to me
To show the devious path I still pursue.
Could I conspire with the archangel there
Before thy heart's flame-guarded paradise!
Fear not, sweet spirit; I should walk unshod
Its ways, and kneeling where thou kneel'st at prayer,
If I should hear my faltered name, arise
Assured of life, of love, of thee, of God.
V
Lady, thy goodness shone to me from far,
Long ere my soul beheld its luminous ray
Of high serenity athwart my way
As certain light from some invariable star.
So have I seen in desert paths the spar
Of dim white crystal gleaming in the gray
Of night; so have I known that reflex play
Imaged an orb whose lights eternal are.
Tranquil with hope, straight on I fare, and find
Clear ground before me, since one white star beams
Constant, though far, along the path I go.
Wherefore, to that benignant light I bind
Observance, till, O greatener of my dreams,
I come to thee, life's highest lore to know.
Long ere my soul beheld its luminous ray
Of high serenity athwart my way
As certain light from some invariable star.
So have I seen in desert paths the spar
Of dim white crystal gleaming in the gray
Of night; so have I known that reflex play
Imaged an orb whose lights eternal are.
Tranquil with hope, straight on I fare, and find
Clear ground before me, since one white star beams
Constant, though far, along the path I go.
Wherefore, to that benignant light I bind
Observance, till, O greatener of my dreams,
I come to thee, life's highest lore to know.
VI
WITH A TREE-CONFIDANT
Voiceless thou art not. Speak thy word to me!—
Forthrightness and strength and the patient ways
Of faith when stormy seasons bring amaze
And make the blood through backward gateways flee.
Prevent my soul's recession!—Not to thee,
O, not to thee, beneath these boughs I raise
This cry! Thy steadfastness my spirit stays
But builds not all my hope, thou friendly tree.
Father of love and life, take thought of me
These fateful days, that I my growth may grow
Skyward to thee, worldward where service lies,
Whether blow winds of cloudy destiny,
Or heaven's warm arch bend close and low,
Prefigured in my love's consenting eyes.
WITH A TREE-CONFIDANT
Voiceless thou art not. Speak thy word to me!—
Forthrightness and strength and the patient ways
Of faith when stormy seasons bring amaze
And make the blood through backward gateways flee.
Prevent my soul's recession!—Not to thee,
O, not to thee, beneath these boughs I raise
This cry! Thy steadfastness my spirit stays
But builds not all my hope, thou friendly tree.
Father of love and life, take thought of me
These fateful days, that I my growth may grow
Skyward to thee, worldward where service lies,
Whether blow winds of cloudy destiny,
Or heaven's warm arch bend close and low,
Prefigured in my love's consenting eyes.
VII
Wear inviolate vesture, O my soul,
When now thou enterest thought's removèd shrine.
Thou canst not be alone there; 'tis no longer thine
To shut the door and keep the key's control.
Unshared, thy table's daily bread and bowl
Had grown unsweet,—wanting the mystic sign
That makes of every common dish a meal divine,
The morsel that love shares more than the whole.
That this dear guest may stay to dwell with thee,
Make yet more fair thy house's garniture.
Her wings that nestle to thy happy breast
Must grow content, stronger by flight with thee
For higher heavens, whence higher still to lure
Thee on to love's eventual haven, rest.
When now thou enterest thought's removèd shrine.
Thou canst not be alone there; 'tis no longer thine
To shut the door and keep the key's control.
Unshared, thy table's daily bread and bowl
Had grown unsweet,—wanting the mystic sign
That makes of every common dish a meal divine,
The morsel that love shares more than the whole.
That this dear guest may stay to dwell with thee,
Make yet more fair thy house's garniture.
Her wings that nestle to thy happy breast
Must grow content, stronger by flight with thee
For higher heavens, whence higher still to lure
Thee on to love's eventual haven, rest.