Have you not noted, in some family Where two were born of a first marriage-bed, How still they own their gracious bond, though fed And nursed on the forgotten breast and knee?-- How to their father's children they shall be In act and thought of one goodwill; but each Shall for the other have, in silence speech, And in a word complete community? Even so, when first I saw you, seemed it, love, That among souls allied to mine was yet One nearer kindred than life hinted of. O born with me somewhere that men forget, And though in years of sight and sound unmet, Known for my soul's birth-partner well enough! A DAY OF LOVE Those envied places which do know her well, And are so scornful of this lonely place, Even now for once are emptied of her grace: Nowhere but here she is: and while Love's spell From his predominant presence doth compel All alien hours, an outworn populace, The hours of Love fill full the echoing space With sweet confederate music favourable. Now many memories make solicitous The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit With quivering fire, the words take wing from it; As here between our kisses we sit thus Speaking of things remembered, and so sit Speechless while things forgotten call to us. BEAUTY'S PAGEANT What dawn-pulse at the heart of heaven, or last Incarnate flower of culminating day,-- What marshalled marvels on the skirts of May, Or song full-quired, sweet June's encomiast; What glory of change by nature's hand amass'd Can vie with all those moods of varying grace Which o'er one loveliest woman's form and face Within this hour, within this room, have pass'd? Love's very vesture and elect disguise Was each fine movement,--wonder new-begot Of lily or swan or swan-stemmed galiot; Joy to his sight who now the sadlier sighs, Parted again; and sorrow yet for eyes Unborn that read these words and saw her not. GENIUS IN BEAUTY Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call Of Homer's or of Dante's heart sublime,-- Not Michael's hand furrowing the zones of time,-- Is more with compassed mysteries musical; Nay, not in Spring's or Summer's sweet footfall More gathered gifts exuberant Life bequeathes* Than doth this sovereign face, whose love-spell breathes Even from its shadowed contour on the wall. As many men are poets in their youth, But for one sweet-strung soul the wires prolong Even through all change the indomitable song; So in likewise the envenomed years, whose tooth Rends shallower grace with ruin void of ruth, Upon this beauty's power shall wreak no wrong. *[sic] SILENT NOON