Robert Browning - The Complete Poems of Robert Browning - 22 Poetry Collections in One Edition

“Myself, yet yearn … as if that chestnut, think,

“Should yearn for this first larch-bloom crisp and pink,

“Or those pale fragrant tears where zephyrs stanch

“March wounds along the fretted pinetree branch!

“Will and the means to show will, great and small,

“Material, spiritual, — abjure them all

“Save any so distinct, they may be left

“To amuse, not tempt become! and, thus bereft,

“Just as I first was fashioned would I be!

“Nor, moon, is it Apollo now, but me

“Thou visitest to comfort and befriend!

“Swim thou into my heart, and there an end,

“Since I possess thee! — nay, thus shut mine eyes

“And know, quite know, by this heart’s fall and rise,

“When thou dost bury thee in clouds, and when

“Out-standest: wherefore practise upon men

“To make that plainer to myself?”

Slide here

Over a sweet and solitary year

Wasted; or simply notice change in him —

How eyes, once with exploring bright, grew dim

And satiate with receiving. Some distress

Was caused, too, by a sort of consciousness

Under the imbecility, — nought kept

That down; he slept, but was aware he slept,

So, frustrated: as who brainsick made pact

Erst with the overhanging cataract

To deafen him, yet still distinguished plain

His own blood’s measured clicking at his brain.

To finish. One declining Autumn day —

Few birds about the heaven chill and grey,

No wind that cared trouble the tacit woods —

He sauntered home complacently, their moods

According, his and nature’s. Every spark

Of Mantua life was trodden out; so dark

The embers, that the Troubadour, who sung

Hundreds of songs, forgot, its trick his tongue,

Its craft his brain, how either brought to pass

Singing at all; that faculty might class

With any of Apollo’s now. The year

Began to find its early promise sere

As well. Thus beauty vanishes; thus stone

Outlingers flesh: nature’s and his youth gone,

They left the world to you, and wished you joy.

When, stopping his benevolent employ,

A presage shuddered through the welkin; harsh

The earth’s remonstrance followed. ‘T was the marsh

Gone of a sudden. Mincio, in its place,

Laughed, a broad water, in next morning’s face,

And, where the mists broke up immense and white

I’ the steady wind, burned like a spilth of light

Out of the crashing of a myriad stars.

And here was nature, bound by the same bars

Of fate with him!

”No! youth once gone is gone:

“Deeds, let escape, are never to be done.

“Leaf-fall and grass-spring for the year; for us —

“Oh forfeit I unalterably thus

“My chance? nor two lives wait me, this to spend,

“Learning save that? Nature has time, may mend

“Mistake, she knows occasion will recur;

“Landslip or seabreach, how affects it her

“With her magnificent resources? — I

“Must perish once and perish utterly.

“Not any strollings now at even-close

“Down the field-path, Sordello! by thorn-rows

“Alive with lamp-flies, swimming spots of fire

“And dew, outlining the black cypress’ spire

“She waits you at, Elys, who heard you first

“Woo her, the snow-month through, but ere she durst

“Answer ‘t was April. Linden-flower-time-long

“Her eyes were on the ground; ‘t is July, strong

“Now; and because white dust-clouds overwhelm

“The woodside, here or by the village elm

“That holds the moon, she meets you, somewhat pale,

“But letting you lift up her coarse flax veil

“And whisper (the damp little hand in yours)

“Of love, heart’s love, your heart’s love that endures

“Till death. Tush! No mad mixing with the rout

“Of haggard ribalds wandering about

“The hot torchlit wine-scented island-house

“Where Friedrich holds his wickedest carouse,

“Parading, — to the gay Palermitans,

“Soft Messinese, dusk Saracenic clans

“Nuocera holds, — those tall grave dazzling Norse,

“High-cheeked, lank-haired, toothed whiter than the morse,

“Queens of the caves of jet stalactites,

“He sent his barks to fetch through icy seas,

“The blind night seas without a saving star,

“And here in snowy birdskin robes they are,

“Sordello! — here, mollitious alcoves gilt

“Superb as Byzant domes that devils built!

“ — Ah, Byzant, there again! no chance to go

“Ever like august cheery Dandolo,

“Worshipping hearts about him for a wall,

“Conducted, blind eyes, hundred years and all,

“Through vanquished Byzant where friends note for him

“What pillar, marble massive, sardius slim,

“‘T were fittest he transport to Venice’ Square —

“Flattered and promised life to touch them there

“Soon, by those fervid sons of senators!

“No more lifes, deaths, loves, hatreds, peaces, wars!

“Ah, fragments of a whole ordained to be,

“Points in the life I waited! what are ye

“But roundels of a ladder which appeared

“Awhile the very platform it was reared

“To lift me on? — that happiness I find

“Proofs of my faith in, even in the blind

“Instinct which bade forego you all unless

“Ye led me past yourselves. Ay, happiness

“Awaited me; the way life should be used

“Was to acquire, and deeds like you conduced

“To teach it by a self-revealment, deemed

“Life’s very use, so long! Whatever seemed

“Progress to that, was pleasure; aught that stayed

“My reaching it — no pleasure. I have laid

“The ladder down; I climb not; still, aloft

“The platform stretches! Blisses strong and soft,

“I dared not entertain, elude me; yet

“Never of what they promised could I get

“A glimpse till now! The common sort, the crowd,

“Exist, perceive; with Being are endowed,

“However slight, distinct from what they See,

“However bounded; Happiness must be,

“To feed the first by gleanings from the last,

“Attain its qualities, and slow or fast

“Become what they behold; such peace-in-strife,

“By transmutation, is the Use of Life,

“The Alien turning Native to the soul

“Or body — which instructs me; I am whole

“There and demand a Palma; had the world

“Been from my soul to a like distance hurled,

“‘T were Happiness to make it one with me:

“Whereas I must, ere I begin to Be,

“Include a world, in flesh, I comprehend

“In spirit now; and this done, what ‘s to blend

“With? Nought is Alien in the world — my Will

“Owns all already; yet can turn it — still

“Less — Native, since my Means to correspond

“With Will are so unworthy, ‘t was my bond

“To tread the very joys that tantalize

“Most now, into a grave, never to rise.

“I die then! Will the rest agree to die?

“Next Age or no? Shall its Sordello try

“Clue after clue, and catch at last the clue

“I miss? — that ‘s underneath my finger too,

“Twice, thrice a day, perhaps, — some yearning traced

“Deeper, some petty consequence embraced

“Closer! Why fled I Mantua, then? — complained

“So much my Will was fettered, yet remained

“Content within a tether half the range

“I could assign it? — able to exchange

“My ignorance (I felt) for knowledge, and

“Idle because I could thus understand —

“Could e’en have penetrated to its core

“Our mortal mystery, yet — fool — forbore,