Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 139 pages of information about Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems.

Give me the lowest place:  not that I dare
  Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died
That I might live and share
  Thy glory by Thy side.

Give me the lowest place:  or if for me
  That lowest place too high, make one more low
Where I may sit and see
  My God and love Thee so.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 1848-69

DEATH’S CHILL BETWEEN

(Athenaeum, October 14, 1848)

Chide not; let me breathe a little,
  For I shall not mourn him long;
Though the life-cord was so brittle,
  The love-cord was very strong. 
I would wake a little space
Till I find a sleeping-place.

You can go,—­I shall not weep;
  You can go unto your rest. 
My heart-ache is all too deep,
  And too sore my throbbing breast. 10
Can sobs be, or angry tears,
Where are neither hopes nor fears?

Though with you I am alone
  And must be so everywhere,
I will make no useless moan,—­
  None shall say ‘She could not bear:’ 
While life lasts I will be strong,—­
But I shall not struggle long.

Listen, listen!  Everywhere
  A low voice is calling me, 20
And a step is on the stair,
  And one comes ye do not see,
Listen, listen!  Evermore
A dim hand knocks at the door.

Hear me; he is come again,—­
  My own dearest is come back. 
Bring him in from the cold rain;
  Bring wine, and let nothing lack. 
Thou and I will rest together,
Love, until the sunny weather. 30

I will shelter thee from harm,—­
  Hide thee from all heaviness. 
Come to me, and keep thee warm
  By my side in quietness. 
I will lull thee to thy sleep
With sweet songs:—­we will not weep.

Who hath talked of weeping?—­Yet
  There is something at my heart,
Gnawing, I would fain forget,
  And an aching and a smart. 40
—­Ah! my mother, ’tis in vain,
For he is not come again.

HEART’S CHILL BETWEEN

(Athenaeum, October 21, 1848)

I did not chide him, though I knew
  That he was false to me. 
Chide the exhaling of the dew,
  The ebbing of the sea,
The fading of a rosy hue,—­
  But not inconstancy.

Why strive for love when love is o’er? 
  Why bind a restive heart?—­
He never knew the pain I bore
  In saying:  ’We must part; 10
Let us be friends and nothing more.’ 
  —­Oh, woman’s shallow art!

But it is over, it is done,—­
  I hardly heed it now;
So many weary years have run
  Since then, I think not how
Things might have been,—­but greet each one
  With an unruffled brow.

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Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.