With a half-glance upon the sky At night he said, 'The wanderings Of this most intricate Universe
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be,
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar,
Dedication These to His Memory--since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Ah God! the petty fools of rhyme That shriek and sweat in pigmy wars Before the stony face of Time,
Now first we stand and understand, And sunder false from true, And handle boldly with the hand,
When will the stream be aweary of flowing Under my eye? When will the wind be aweary of blowing
This thing, that thing is the rage, Helter-skelter runs the age; Minds on this round earth of ours
We move, the wheel must always move, Nor always on the plain, And if we move to such a goal
Deep on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour goes;
Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will,
In her ear he whispers gaily, 'If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily,
When the dumb Hour, clothed in black, Brings the Dreams about my bed, Call me not so often back,
Once more the gate behind me falls; Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?'
ON THE HILL. The lights and shadows fly! Yonder it brightens and darkens down on the plain.
Revered, beloved'O you that hold A nobler office upon earth Than arms, or power of brain, or birth
1851 Farewell, Macready, since to-night we part; Full-handed thunders often have confessed