The sexes sprung from shame and pride, Blow'd in the morn; in evening died; But Mercy chang'd death into sleep; The sexes rose to work and weep. Thou, Mother of my mortal part, With cruelty didst mould my heart, And with false self-deceiving tears Didst bind my nostrils, eyes, and ears; Didst close my tongue in senseless clay, And me to mortal life betray: The death of Jesus set me free: Then what have I to do with thee? 55.  ; , - , ? , ; - . ! ! , . . ! - , ? . . 56. THE SCHOOLBOY I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me. O! what sweet company. But to go to school in a summer morn, O! it drives all joy away; Under a cruel eye outworn, The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay. Ah! then at times I drooping sit, And spend many an anxious hour, Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning's bower, Worn thro' with the dreary shower. How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring? O! father and mother, if buds are nipp'd And blossoms blown away, And if the tender plants are stripp'd Of their joy in the springing day, By sorrow and care's dismay, How shall the summer arise in joy, Or the summer fruits appear? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, Or bless the mellowing year, When the blasts of winter appear? 56.  . . -. . - ? , , , . . , . , , ? , ? . ! , - , ? ? . ? . . 57. THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD Youth of delight, come hither, And see the opening morn, Image of truth new-born. Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason, Dark disputes and artful teasing. Folly is an endless maze, Tangled roots perplex her ways. How many have fallen there! They stumble all night over bones of the dead, And feel they know not what but care, And wish to lead others, when they should be led. 57.  , ! , . , . . . , . , , . . . FROM "THE ROSSETTI MANUSCRIPT" (1789-1793) x x x 58. Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart; Trembling, cold, in ghastly tears, Ah! she doth depart. Soon as she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.  " " (1789-1793) x x x 58. . , , . , , . , , . , , , , . . . x x x 59. I saw a Chapel all of gold That none did dare to enter in, And many weeping stood without, Weeping, mourning, worshipping. I saw a Serpent rise between The white pillars of the door, And he forc'd and forc'd and forc'd; Down the golden hinges tore, And along the pavement sweet, Set with pearls and rubies bright, All his shining length he drew, Till upon the altar white Vomiting his poison out On the Bread and on the Wine. So I turn'd into a sty, And laid me down among the swine. x x x 59. - , . , , - , , , , . , , , - , , , . , . . . x x x 60. I asked a thief to steal me a peach. He turned up his eyes. I ask'd a lithe lady to lie her down: Holy and meek, she cries. As soon as I went An Angel came: He wink'd at the thief, And smil'd at the dame; And without one word said Had a peach from the tree, And still as a maid Enjoy'd the lady. x x x 60. . . - . , , , , , . . . x x x 61. I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing: 'Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.' Thus he sang all day Over the new-mown hay, Till the sun went down, And haycocks looked brown. I heard a Devil curse Over the heath and the furze: 'Mercy could be no more If there was nobody poor, 'And Pity no more could be, If all were as happy as we.' At his curse the sun went down, And the heavens gave a frown. [Down pour'd the heavy rain Over the new reap'd grain; And Misery's increase Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.] x x x 61. , - : ", , !" , , - , . , , : " , . , , - !" , , . , - , , . . . 62. A CRADLE SONG Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, Dreaming o'er the joys of night; Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet Babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles. As thy softest limbs I feel, Smiles as of the morning steal O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast Where thy little heart does rest. O! the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep. When thy little heart does wake Then the dreadful lightnings break, From thy cheek and from thy eye, O'er the youthful harvests nigh. Infant wiles and infant smiles Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles. 62.  ! ! , ! - , - . , . , , . , , . , . . . . , . . . - . - - . . . x x x 63. I fear'd the fury of my wind Would blight all blossoms fair and true; And my sun it shin'd and shin'd, And my wind it never blew. But a blossom fair or true Was not found on any tree; For all blossoms grew and grew Fruitless, false, tho' fair to see. x x x 63. : . , . , - , . . . 64. INFANT SORROW i My mother groan'd, my father wept; Into the dangerous world I leapt, Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. ii Struggling in my father's hands, Striving against my swaddling-bands, Bound and weary, I thought best To sulk upon my mother's breast, iii When I saw that rage was vain, And to sulk would nothing gain, Turning many a trick and wile I began to soothe and smile, iv And I sooth'd day after day, Till upon the ground I stray; And I smil'd night after night, Seeking only for delight, v And I saw before me shine Clusters of the wand'ring vine; And, beyond, a Myrtle-tree Stretch'd its blossoms out to me. vi But a Priest with holy look, In his hands a holy book, Pronounced curses on his head Who the fruits or blossoms shed vii I beheld the Priest by night; He embrac'd my Myrtle bright: I beheld the Priest by day, Where beneath my vines he lay. viii Like a serpent in the day Underneath my vines he lay: Like a serpent in the night He embrac'd my Myrtle bright. ix So I smote him, and his gore Stain'd the roots my Myrtle bore; But the time of youth is fled, And grey hairs are on my head. 64. - . . . , , . , , . , - , : - . : , . , , ; , . , , ... , , , . . . x x x 65. Thou hast a lap full of seed, And this is a fine country. Why dost thou not cast thy seed, And live in it merrily? Shall I cast it on the sand And turn it into fruitful land? For on no other ground Can I sow my seed, Without tearing up Some stinking weed. x x x 65.- , . ? - . . , ! . . 66. IN A MIRTLE SHADE Why should I be bound to thee, my lovely mirtle tree? Love, free love, cannot be bound To any tree that grows on ground. O, how sick & weary I Underneath my mirtle lie, Like to dung upon the ground Underneath my mirtle bound. Oft my mirtle sign'd in vain To behold my heavy chain; Oft my father saw us sigh, And laugh'd at our simplicity. So I smote him & his gore Stain'd the roots my mirtle bore. But the time of youth is fled, And grey hairs are on my head. 66.  , ? - - ? . , . , . : , : . : . , , , . - . . . 67. TO NOBODADDY Why art thou silent and invisible, Father of Jealousy? Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds From every searching eye? Why darkness and obscurity In all thy words and laws, That none dare eat the fruit but from The wily Serpent's jaws? Or is it because secrecy gains females' loud applause? 67. ,  , , ? ? , , , ? ? . . 68. THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG As I wander'd the forest, The green leaves among, I heard a Wild Flower Singing a song. 'I slept in the earth In the silent night, I murmur'd my fears And I felt delight. 'In the morning I went, As rosy as morn, To seek for new joy; But I met with scorn.' 68.  : - , , . , , , . . . x x x 69. lapwing! thou fliest around the heath, Nor seest the net that is spread beneath. Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields? They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields. x x x 69. ! . . : , ! . . 70. SOFT SNOW I walked abroad on a snowy day: I ask'd the soft Snow with me to play: She play'd and she melted in all her prime; And the Winter call'd it a dreadful crime. 70.  . - ! - . - ... , . . . 71. MERLIN'S PROPHECY The harvest shall flourish in wintry weather When two Virginities meet together: The king and the priest must be tied in a tether Before two Virgins can meet together. 71.  , - , . , . . . 72. DAY The sun arises in the East, Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold; Swords and spears and wrath increas'd All around his bosom roll'd, Crown'd with warlike fires and raging desires. 72.  . , - ! . . - , . . . x x x 73. Why should I care for the men of Thames, Or the cheating waves of charter'd streams; Or shrink at the little blasts of fear That the hireling blows into my ear? Tho' born on the cheating banks of Thames, Tho' his waters bathed my infant limbs, The Ohio shall wash his stains from me: I was born a slave, but I go to be free 73.  , - , - , , ? , ? , , , ! , . . . x x x 74. Abstinence sows sand all over The ruddy limbs and flaming hair, But Desire gratified Plants fruits of life and beauty there. x x x 74. . . . . x x x 75. If you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe; But if once you let the ripe moment go You can never wipe off the tears of woe. x x x 75. , . , , - : . . . x x x 76. He who bends to himself a Joy Doth the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the Joy as it flies Lives in Eternity's sunrise. 76.  , . - ! . . 77. RICHES The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury. 77.  , , . . 78. AN ANSWER TO THE PARSON Why of the sheep do you not learn peace? Because I don't want you to shear my fleece. 78.  - , !.. - , , ! . . x x x 79. Soft deceit & idleness These are beauties sweetest dress. x x x 79. - . . . x x x 80. "Let the Brothels of Paris be opened With many an alluring dance To awake the Pestilence thro' the city," Said the beautiful Queen of France. The King awoke on his couch of gold, As soon as he heard these tidings told: "Arise & come, both fife & drum, And the Famine shall eat both crust & crumb." Then he swore a great & solemn Oath: "To kill the people I am loth, But if they rebel, they must go to hell: They shall have a Priest & a passing bell." Then old Nobodaddy aloft Farted & belch'd & cough'd, And said, "I love hanging & drawing & quartering Every bit as well as war & slaughtering. Damn praying & singing, Unless they will bring in The blood of ten thousand by fighting or swinging." The Queen of France just touched this Globe, And the Pestilence darted from her robe; But our good Queen quite grows to the ground, And a great many suckers grow all around. Fayette beside King Lewis stood; He saw him sign his hand; And soon he saw the famine rage About the fruitful land. Fayette beheld the Queen to smile And wink her lovely eye; And soon he saw the pestilence From street to street to fly. Fayette beheld the King & Queen In tears & iron bound; But mute Fayette wept tear for tear, And guarded them around. Fayette, Fayette, thou'rt bought & sold, And sold is thy happy morrow; Thou gavest the tears of Pity away In exchange for the tears of sorrow. Who will exchange his own fire side For the steps of another's door? Who will exchange his wheaten loaf For the links of a dungeon floor? O, who would smile on the wintry seas, & Pity the stormy roar? Or who will exchange his new born child For the dog at the wintry door? x x x 80. " , ! , ", - . , , : ", , , !" : " , - !" , : " , , , . , !" , - . - . - , . - , . - , . , , : . ? ? ? , ? . . (1800-1803) x x x i 81. My Spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way; My Emanation far within Weeps incessantly for my sin. ii 'A fathomless and boundless deep, There we wander, there we weep; On the hungry craving wind My Spectre follows thee behind. iii 'He scents thy footsteps in the snow, Wheresoever thou dost go, Thro' the wintry hail and rain. When wilt thou return again? iv 'Dost thou not in pride and scorn Fill with tempests all my morn, And with jealousies and fears Fill my pleasant nights with tears? v 'Seven of my sweet loves thy knife Has bereaved of their life. Their marble tombs I built with tears, And with cold and shuddering fears. vi 'Seven more loves weep night and day Round the tombs where my loves lay, And seven more loves attend each night Around my couch with torches bright. vii 'And seven more loves in my bed Crown with wine my mournful head, Pitying and forgiving all Thy transgressions great and small. viii 'When wilt thou return and view My loves, and them to life renew? When wilt thou return and live? When wilt thou pity as I forgive?' a ['O'er my sins thou sit and moan: Hast thou no sins of thy own? O'er my sins thou sit and weep, And lull thy own sins fast asleep.] b ['What transgressions I commit Are for thy transgressions fit. They thy harlots, thou their slave; And my bed becomes their grave.] ix 'Never, never, I return: Still for victory I burn. Living, thee alone I'll have; And when dead I'll be thy grave. x 'Thro' the Heaven and Earth and Hell Thou shalt never, never quell: I will fly and thou pursue: Night and morn the flight renew.' ['Poor, pale, pitiable form That I follow in a storm; Iron tears and groans of lead Bind around my aching head.] xi 'Till I turn from Female love And root up the Infernal Grove, I shall never worthy be To step into Eternity. xii 'And, to end thy cruel mocks, Annihilate thee on the rocks, And another form create To be subservient to my fate. xiii 'Let us agree to give up love, And root up the Infernal Grove; Then shall we return and see The worlds of happy Eternity. xiv 'And throughout all Eternity I forgive you, you forgive me. As our dear Redeemer said: "This the Wine, and this the Bread."' (1800-1803) 81.  , , , , , . " , , - . - , , - , . ? , , , ? ? , ?