New Poems

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SINCE THOU HAST GIVEN ME THIS GOOD HOPE, O GOD

SINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God, That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod And the great woods embower me, and white dawn And purple even sweetly lead me on From day to day, and night to night, O God, My life shall no wise miss the light of love; But ever climbing, climb above Man's one poor star, man's supine lands, Into the azure steadfastness of death, My life shall no wise lack the light of love, My hands not lack the loving touch of hands; But day by day, while yet I draw my breath, And day by day, unto my last of years, I shall be one that has a perfect friend. Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears, And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.

GOD GAVE TO ME A CHILD IN PART

GOD gave to me a child in part, Yet wholly gave the father's heart: Child of my soul, O whither now, Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?

You came, you went, and no man wist; Hapless, my child, no breast you kist; On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb, Nor knew the kindly feel of home.

My voice may reach you, O my dear- A father's voice perhaps the child may hear; And, pitying, you may turn your view On that poor father whom you never knew.

Alas! alone he sits, who then, Immortal among mortal men, Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through With your dear mother wondered over you.

OVER THE LAND IS APRIL

OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring? Over the high, brown mountain, Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway, love, and byway The snows succeed the rose. Over the high, brown mountain The wind of winter blows. Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring? Over the high, brown mountain I sound the song of spring, I throw the flowers of spring. Do you hear the song of spring? Hear you the songs of spring?

LIGHT AS THE LINNET ON MY WAY I START

LIGHT as the linnet on my way I start, For all my pack I bear a chartered heart. Forth on the world without a guide or chart, Content to know, through all man's varying fates, The eternal woman by the wayside waits.

COME, HERE IS ADIEU TO THE CITY

COME, here is adieu to the city And hurrah for the country again. The broad road lies before me Watered with last night's rain. The timbered country woos me With many a high and bough; And again in the shining fallows The ploughman follows the plough.

The whole year's sweat and study, And the whole year's sowing time, Comes now to the perfect harvest, And ripens now into rhyme. For we that sow in the Autumn, We reap our grain in the Spring, And we that go sowing and weeping Return to reap and sing.

IT BLOWS A SNOWING GALE

IT blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year; The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier. The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro, A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane. Autumn leaves and rain, The passion of the gale.

NE SIT ANCILLAE TIBI AMOR PUDOR

THERE'S just a twinkle in your eye That seems to say I MIGHT, if I Were only bold enough to try An arm about your waist. I hear, too, as you come and go, That pretty nervous laugh, you know; And then your cap is always so Coquettishly displaced.

Your cap! the word's profanely said. That little top-knot, white and red, That quaintly crowns your graceful head, No bigger than a flower, Is set with such a witching art, Is so provocatively smart, I'd like to wear it on my heart, An order for an hour!

O graceful housemaid, tall and fair, I love your shy imperial air, And always loiter on the stair When you are going by. A strict reserve the fates demand; But, when to let you pass I stand, Sometimes by chance I touch your hand And sometimes catch your eye.

New Poems Page 21

Robert Louis Stevenson

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Robert Louis Stevenson
Classic Literature Library

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