Lady Jane Wilde Poems

Thou reck’nest seven Heavens; I but one:
And thou art it, Beloved! Voice and hand,
And eye and mouth, are but the angel band
Who minister around that highest throne
...

Air Guniver roam'd in the sunset light,
Through wood and wold,
In sweet dreams of love, but her heart was bright
As proven gold.
...

My love lay there,
In the shadow of my hair,
As my glossy raven tresses downard flow;
And dark as midnight’s cloud,
The fell o’er him like a shroud:
Ah! does he now remember it or no?
...

God give us grace, each in his place,
To keep from sin and sinning:
Our souls we sell for gifts from Hell,
That are not worth the winning.
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A raven on a branch is sitting;
By him comes another flitting
Brother, where so quickly flying?
Hast thou scented dead or dying?
...

The soul is ever clinging unto form;
Action, not abstract thought, alone can warm
The great heart of Humanity—in life’s fierce storm
Pass they the Lyrist by.
...

The Priest of Beauty, the Anointed One,
Through the wide world passes the Poet on.
All that is noble by his word is crown’d,
But on his brow th’ Acanthus wreath is bound.
...

Spring's sweet odours from the meadow
Fling their fragrance far and wide,
And the tall trees cast the shadow
Of the winter's gloom aside;
...

Too soon, alas! too soon I plunged into the world with tone and clang,
And they scarcely comprehended what the Poet wildly sang.
Not the spirit‐glance deep gazing into nature's inmost soul,
Not the mystic aspirations that the Poet's words unroll.
...

Who art thou, glorious Form, flashing by me,
So beautiful, so Godlike—wilt thou fly me?
Why o’er thy face and bosom fall thy tresses streaming?
And why the airy pinions on thy white feet gleaming?
...