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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto X.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Preludes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I Frost in Harvest <br>The lover who, across a gulf<br>Of ceremony, views his Love,<br>And dares not yet address herself,<br>Pays worship to her stolen glove.<br>The gulf o'erleapt, the lover wed,<br>It happens oft, (let truth be told),<br>The halo leaves the sacred head,<br>Respect grows lax, and worship cold,<br>And all love's May-day promising,<br>Like song of birds before they pair,<br>Or flush of flowers in boastful Spring,<br>Dies out, and leaves the Summer bare<br>Yet should a man, it seems to me,<br>Honour what honourable is,<br>For some more honourable plea<br>Than only that it is not his.<br>The gentle wife, who decks his board<br>And makes his day to have no night,<br>Whose wishes wait upon her lord,<br>Who finds her own in his delight, <br>Is she another now than she<br>Who, mistress of her maiden charms,<br>At his wild prayer, incredibly<br>Committed them to his proud arms?<br>Unless her choice of him's a slur<br>Which makes her proper credit dim,<br>He never enough can honour her<br>Who past all speech has honour'd him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II Felicity <br>To marry her and take her home!<br>The poet, painting pureness, tells<br>Of lilies; figures power by Rome;<br>And each thing shows by something else!<br>But through the songs of poets look,<br>And who so lucky to have found<br>In universal nature's book<br>A likeness for a life so crown'd!<br>Here they speak best who best express<br>Their inability to speak,<br>And none are strong, but who confess<br>With happy skill that they are weak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III Marriage Indissoluble <br>‘In heaven none marry.’ Grant the most<br>Which may by this dark word be meant,<br>Who shall forbid the eternal boast<br>‘I kiss'd, and kiss'd with her consent!’<br>If here, to Love, past favour is<br>A present boast, delight, and chain,<br>What lacks of honour, bond, and bliss,<br>Where Now and Then are no more twain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Epitaph. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>‘At Church, in twelve hours more, we meet!<br>‘This, Dearest, is our last farewell.’<br>‘Oh, Felix, do you love me?’ ‘Sweet,<br>‘Why do you ask?’ ‘I cannot tell.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II<br>And was it no vain fantasy<br>That raised me from the earth with pride?<br>Should I to-morrow verily<br>Be Bridegroom, and Honoria Bride?<br>Should I, in simple fact, henceforth<br>Live unconditionally lord<br>Of her whose smile for brightest worth<br>Seem'd all too bountiful reward?<br>Incredible life's promise seem'd,<br>Or, credible, for life too great;<br>Love his own deity blasphemed,<br>And doff'd at last his heavenly state.<br>What law, if man could mount so high,<br>To further insolence set bars,<br>And kept the chaste moon in the sky,<br>And bade him not tread out the stars!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Patience and hope had parted truce,<br>And, sun-like, Love obscured his ray<br>With dazzling mists, driven up profuse<br>Before his own triumphant way.<br>I thought with prayer how Jacob paid<br>The patient price of Rachel; then, <br>Of that calm grace Tobias said,<br>And Sarah's innocent ‘Amen.’<br>Without avail! O'erwhelming wealth,<br>The wondrous gift of God so near,<br>Which should have been delight and health<br>Made heart and spirit sick and sere.<br>Until at last the soul of love,<br>That recks not of its own delight,<br>Awoke and bade the mists remove,<br>And then once more I breathed aright;<br>And I rehears'd my marriage vow,<br>And swore her welfare to prefer<br>To all things, and for aye as now<br>To live, not for myself, but her.<br>Forth, from the glittering spirit's peace<br>And gaiety ineffable,<br>Stream'd to the heart delight and ease,<br>As from an overflowing well;<br>And, orderly deriving thence<br>Its pleasure perfect and allow'd,<br>Bright with the spirit shone the sense,<br>As with the sun a fleecy cloud.<br>If now to part with her could make,<br>Her pleasure greater, sorrow less,<br>I for my epitaph would take<br>‘To serve seem'd more than to possess.’<br>And I perceiv'd, (the vision sweet<br>Dimming with happy dew mine eyes),<br>That love and joy are torches lit<br>From altar-fires of sacrifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV<br>Across the sky the daylight crept,<br>And birds grew garrulous in the grove,<br>And on my marriage-morn I slept<br>A soft sleep, undisturb'd by love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Coventry+Patmore">Coventry Patmore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359175" data-title="The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto X. de Coventry Patmore" data-description="Preludes.

I Frost in Harvest 
The lover who, across a gulf
Of ceremony, views his Love,
And dares not yet address herself,
Pays worship to her stolen glove.
The gulf o'erleapt, the lover wed,
It happens oft, (let truth be told),
The halo leaves t..."></div>
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