If she but smile, the crystalcalm shall break In music, sweeter than it ever gave, As when a breeze breathes o'er some sleeping lake, And laughs in every wave.
"The Return of the Goddess" (1850), later published as the Preface to The Poet's Journal (1863); also in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 103.
Kilimandjaro (1852), Stanza 2; later published in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 73.
From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
"Bedouin Song" (1853), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 69.
They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang Annie Lawrie.
"The Song of the Camp" (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.
"A Thousand Years" (September 20, 1862), stanza 12; in The Poems (1866), p. 411.
The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.
"The Guests of Night" (1871), st. 2, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
All, wherein I have part, All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart, Breaks from the grasping brain.
Lo, what is left? I am bare As a new-born soul, — I am naught: My deeds are dust in air, My words are ghosts of thought. I ride through the night alone, Detached from the life that seemed, And the best I have felt or known Is less than the least I dreamed.
The Guests of Night (1871), st. 3 - 4, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
Once let the Angel blow! — A peal from the parted heaven, The first of seven! For the time is come that was foretold So long ago! As the avalanche gathers, huge and cold, From the down of the harmless snow, The years and the ages gather and hang Till the day when the word is spoken: When they that dwell in the end of time Are smitten alike for the early crime, As the vials of wrath are broken!
"Gabriel" in The Century: A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.
Yes, let the Angel blow! A peal from the parted heaven, The first of seven!— The warning, not yet the sign, of woe! That men arise And look about them with wakened eyes, Behold on their garments the dust and slime, Refrain, forbear, Accept the weight of a nobler care And take reproach from the fallen time!
"Gabriel" in The Century: A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.
The Poet's Journal (1863)
Thunder-spasms the waking be Into Life from Apathy: Life, not Death, is in the gale, — Let the coming Doom prevail!
First Evening, "A Symbol".
No visitors shall yonder valley find. Except the spirits of the rain and wind: Here you must bide, my friends, with me entombed In this dim crypt, where shelved around us lie The mummied authors.