Much is to learn and much to forget But the time will come-at last it will Why your hair was amber I shall divine, And your mouth of your own geranium's red— And what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, Gain'd me the gains of various men, Ransack'd the ages, spoil'd the climes; I loved you, Evelyn, all the while; My heart seem'd full as it could hold— There was place and to spare for the frank young smile And the red young mouth and the hair's young gold. So hush! I will give you this leaf to keep; See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand. There, that is our secret! go to sleep; You will wake, and remember, and understand. ROBERT BROWNING. CHANGES. WHOM first we love, you know, we seldom wed, Much must be borne which it is hard to bear; My little boy begins to babble now Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer. But when he sleeps and smiles upon my knee, Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago; Who might have been . . . ah, what I dare not think! We are all changed. God judges for us best. But blame us women not, if some appear Too cold at times; and some too gay and light. Some griefs gnaw deep. Some woes are hard to bear. Who knows the past? and who can judge us right? Ah, were we judged by what we might have been, And not by what we are—too apt to fall! My little child-he sleeps and smiles between These thoughts and me. In Heaven we shall know all ! ROBERT BULWER LYTTON. WHAT IS HE BUZZING IN MY EARS? WHAT is he buzzing in my ears? Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears? Ah, reverend sir, not I. What I viewed there once, what I view again, On the table's edge, is a suburb lane, That lane sloped, much as the bottles do, O'er the garden-wall. Is the curtain blue To mine, it serves for the old June weather, And that farthest bottle, labelled "Ether," At a terrace somewhat near its stopper, A girl-I know, sir, it's improper; My poor mind's out of tune. Only there was a way—you crept Eyes in the house-two eyes except. They styled their house "The Lodge." What right had a lounger up their lane? With the good wall's help their eyes might strain Yet never catch her and me together, By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether"- And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas! How sad and bad and mad it was! But then, how it was sweet! ROBERT BROWNING. HIGHLAND MARY. YE banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; |