Robert Williams Buchanan

Tho' the world could turn from you, This, at least, I learn from you: Beauty and Truth, tho' never found, are worthy to be sought, The singer, upward-springing, Is grander than his singing, And tranquil self-sufficing joy illumes the dark …

I, who loved and knew you, In the city that slew you, Still hunger on, and thirst, and climb, proud-hearted and alone:Serpent-fears enfold me, Syren-visions hold me, And, like a wave, I gather strength, and gathering strength, I moan;

Upward my face I turn to you, I long for you, I yearn to you, The spectral vision trances me to utt'rance wild and weak; It is not that I mourn you, To mourn you were to scorn you, For you are one step nearer to the beauty singers seek.

Lo, the book I hold here, In the city cold here !I hold it with a gentle hand and love it as I may; Lo, the weary moments! Lo, the icy comments! And lo, false Fortune's knife of gold swift-lifted up to slay!Has the strife no ending? Has …

All that is beautiful shall abide, All that is base shall die.

Then glory grew on earth and heaven, Full glory of full day!

Along the melting shores of earth An emerald flame there ran, Forest and field grew bright, and mirth Gladdened the flocks of man.

And whosoe’er loves mortals most Shall conquer Death the best, Yea, whosoe’er grows beautiful Shall grow divinely blest.

But whosoe’er shall conquer Death, Tho’ mortal man he be, Shall in his season rise again, And live, with thee, and me!

Yet only thro’ the strength of Death A god shall fall or rise

So hath he hunted down the gods As well as human things!

O Balder, he who fashion’d us, And bade us live and move, Shall weave for Death’s sad heavenly hair Immortal flowers of love.

Their hearts and sentiments were free, their appetites were hearty.

Even on the white English crags A few strong spirits, in a race that binds Its body in chains and calls them Liberty, And calls each fresh link Progress, stood erect With faces pale that hunger'd to the light.

Believing hath a core of unbelieving.

I ask no more from mortals Than your beautiful face implies,— The beauty the artist beholding Interprets and sanctifies. Who says that men have fallen, That life is wretched and rough?

Full of a sweet indifference.

I saw the starry Tree Eternity Put forth the blossom Time.