Her manners, when they call me lord, Remind me 't is by courtesy ; Not with her least consent of will, Which would my proud affection hurt, But by the noble style that still Imputes an unattained desert; Because her gay and lofty brows, When all is won which hope can ask, Reflect a light of hopeless snows That bright in virgin ether bask; Because, though free of the outer court I am, this Temple keeps its shrine Sacred to Heaven; because in short, She's not and never can be mine. IF I WERE DEAD (1862) 20 25 30 Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye Who north or south, on east or western land, Native to noble sounds, say truth for truth, Freedom for freedom, love for love, and (1877) Remember me when I am gone away, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labor you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. (1862) CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY (1831-1884) COMPANIONS A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER I know not of what we pondered 15 |