Infelix
Where is the promise of my years;
Once written on my brow?
Ere errors, agonies and fears . . .
Where is the promise of my years;
Once written on my brow?
Ere errors, agonies and fears . . .
Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
. . .
Piping down the valleys wild
Piping songs of pleasant glee
On a cloud I saw a child. . . .
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be . . .
Come when the nights are bright with stars
Or come when the moon is mellow;
Come when the sun his golden bars . . .
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
“Whose heart-strings are a lute”;
None sing so wildly well . . .
It sifts from Leaden Sieves -
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool . . .
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells . . .
Pavement slipp’ry, people sneezing,
Lords in ermine, beggars freezing;
Titled gluttons dainties carving, . . .
Joy of my life, full oft for loving you
I bless my lot, that was so lucky placed:
But then the more your own mishap I rue, . . .