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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523134" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Crazed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Spring again hath started on the course<br>Wherein she seeketh Summer thro' the Earth.<br>I will arise and go upon my way.<br>It may be that the leaves of Autumn hid<br>His footsteps from me; it may be the snows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'He is not dead. There was no funeral;<br>I wore no weeds. He must be in the Earth.<br>Oh where is he, that I may come to him<br>And he may charm the fever of my brain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Oh Spring, I hope that thou wilt be my friend.<br>Thro' the long weary Summer I toiled sore;<br>Having much sorrow of the envious woods<br>And groves that burgeoned round me where I came,<br>And when I would have seen him, shut him in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Also the Honeysuckle and wild bine<br>Being in love did hide him from my sight;<br>The Ash-tree bent above him; vicious weeds<br>Withheld me; Willows in the River-wind<br>Hissed at me, by the twilight, waving wands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Also, for I have told thee, oh dear Spring,<br>Thou knowest after I had sunk outworn<br>In the late summer gloom till Autumn came,<br>I looked up in the light of burning Woods<br>And entered on my wayfare when I saw<br>Gold on the ground and glory in the trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'And all my further journey thou dost know;<br>My toils and outcries as the lusty world<br>Grew thin to winter; and my ceaseless feet<br>In vales and on stark hills, till the first snow<br>Fell, and the large rain of the latter leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I hope that thou wilt be my friend, oh Spring,<br>And give me service of thy winds and streams.<br>It needs must be that he will hear thy voice,<br>For thou art much as I was when he woo'd<br>And won me long ago beside the Dee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'If he should bend above you, oh ye streams,<br>And anywhere you look up into eyes<br>And think the star of love hath found her mate<br>And know, because of day, they are not stars;<br>Oh streams, they are the eyes of my beloved!<br>Oh murmur as I murmured once of old,<br>And he will stay beside you, oh ye streams,<br>And I shall clasp him when my day is come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Likewise I charge thee, west wind, zephyr wind,<br>If thou shalt hear a voice more sweet than thine<br>About a sunset rosetree deep in June,<br>Sweeter than thine, oh wind, when thou dost leap<br>Into the tree with passion, putting by<br>The maiden leaves that ruffle round their dame,<br>And singest and art silent,-having dropt<br>In pleasure on the bosom of the rose,-<br>Oh wind, it is the voice of my beloved;<br>Wake, wake, and bear me to the voice, oh wind!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Moreover, I do think that the spring birds<br>Will be my willing servants. Wheresoe'er<br>There mourns a hen-bird that hath lost her mate<br>Her will I tell my sorrow-weeping hers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'And if it be a Lark whereto I speak,<br>She shall be ware of how my Love went up<br>Sole singing to the cloud; and evermore<br>I hear his song, but him I cannot see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'And if it be a female Nightingale<br>That pineth in the depth of silent woods,<br>I also will complain to her that night<br>Is still. And of the creeping of the winds<br>And of the sullen trees, and of the lone<br>Dumb Dark. And of the listening of the stars.<br>What have we done, what have we done, oh Night?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Therefore, oh Love, the summer trees shall be<br>My watch-towers. Wheresoe'er thou liest bound<br>I will be there. For ere the spring be past<br>I will have preached my dolour through the land,<br>And not a bird but shall have all my woe.<br>-And whatsoever hath my woe hath me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I charge you, oh ye flowers fresh from the dead,<br>Declare if ye have seen him. You pale flowers,<br>Why do you quake and hang the head like me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'You pallid flowers, why do ye watch the dust<br>And tremble? Ah, you met him in your caves,<br>And shrank out shuddering on the wintry air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Snowdrops, you need not gaze upon the ground,<br>Fear not. He will not follow ye; for then<br>I should be happy who am doomed to woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Only I bid ye say that he is there,<br>That I may know my grief is to be borne,<br>And all my Fate is but the common lot.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She sat down on a bank of Primroses,<br>Swayed to and fro, as in a wind of Thought<br>That moaned about her, murmuring alow,<br>'The common lot, oh for the common lot.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thus spake she, and behold a gust of grief<br>Smote her. As when at night the dreaming wind<br>Starts up enraged, and shakes the Trees and sleeps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Oh early Rain, oh passion of strong crying,<br>Say, dost thou weep, oh Rain, for him or me?<br>Alas, thou also goest to the Earth<br>And enterest as one brought home by fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Rude with much woe, with expectation wild,<br>So dashest thou the doors and art not seen.<br>Whose burial did they speak of in the skies?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I would that there were any grass-green grave<br>Where I might stand and say, 'Here lies my Love;'<br>And sigh, and look down to him, thro' the Earth.<br>And look up, thro' the clearing skies, and smile.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then the Day passed from bearing up the Heavens,<br>The sky descended on the Mountain tops<br>Unclouded; and the stars embower'd the Night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Darkness did flood the Valley; flooding her.<br>And when the face of her great grief was hid,<br>Her callow heart, that like a nestling bird<br>Clamoured, sank down with plaintive pipe and slow.<br>Her cry was like a strange fowl in the dark:<br>'Alas Night,' said she; then like a faint ghost,<br>As tho' the owl did hoot upon the hills,<br>'Alas Night.' On the murky silence came<br>Her voice like a white sea-mew on the waste<br>Of the dark deep; a-sudden seen and lost<br>Upon the barren expanse of mid-seas<br>Black with the Thunder. 'Alas Night,' said she,<br>'Alas Night.' Then the stagnant season lay<br>From hill to hill. But when the waning Moon<br>Rose, she began with hasty step to run<br>The wintry mead; a wounded bird that seeks<br>To hide its head when all the trees are bare.<br>Silent,-for all her strength did bear her dread-<br>Silent, save when with bursting heart she cried,<br>Like one who wrestles in the dark with fiends,<br>'Alas Night.' With a dim wild voice of fear<br>As though she saw her sorrow by the moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The morning dawns: and earlier than the Lark<br>She murmureth, sadder than the Nightingale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I would I could believe me in that sleep<br>When on our bridal morn I thought him dead,<br>And dreamed and shrieked and woke upon his breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Oh God, I cannot think that I am blind;<br>I think I see the beauty of the world.<br>Perchance but I am blind, and he is near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Even as I felt his arm before I woke,<br>And clinging to his bosom called on him,<br>And wept, and knew and knew not it was he.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I do thank God I think that I am blind.<br>There is a darkness thick about my heart<br>And all I seem to see is as a dream;<br>My lids have closed, and have shut in the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Oh Love, I pray thee take me by the hand;<br>I stretch my hand, oh Love, and quake with dread;<br>I thrust it, and I know not where. Ah me,<br>What shall not seize the dark hand of the blind?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'How know I, being blind, I am on Earth?<br>I am in Hell, in Hell, oh Love! I feel<br>There is a burning gulph before my feet!<br>I dare not stir-and at my back the fiends!<br>I wind my arms, my arms that demons scorch,<br>Round this poor breast, and all that thou shouldst save<br>From rapine. Husband, I cry out from Hell;<br>There is a gulph. They seize my flesh.' (She shrieked.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I will sink down here where I stand. All round<br>How know I but the burning pit doth yawn?<br>Here will I shrink and shrink to no more space<br>Than my feet cover.' (She wept.) 'So much up<br>My mortal touch makes honest. Oh my Life,<br>My Lord, my Husband! Fool that cryest in vain!<br>Ah Angel! What hast thou to do with Hell?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'And yet I do not ask thee, oh my Love,<br>To lead me to thee where thou art in Heaven.<br>Only I would that thou shouldst be my star,<br>And whatsoever Fate thy beams dispense<br>I am content. It shall be good to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'But tho' I may not see thee, oh my Love,<br>Yea, though mine eyes return and miss thee still,<br>And thou shouldst take another shape than thine,<br>Have pity on my lot, and lead me hence<br>Where I may think of thee. To the old fields<br>And wonted valleys where we once were blest.<br>Oh Love, all day I hear them, out of sight,<br>The far Home where the Past abideth yet<br>Beside the stream that prates of other days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'My Punishment is more than I can bear.<br>My sorrow groweth big unto my time.<br>Oh Love, I would that I were mad. Oh Love,<br>I do not ask that thou shouldst change my Fate,<br>I will endure; but oh my Life, my Lord,<br>Being as thou art a thronèd saint in Heaven,<br>If thou wouldst touch me and enchant my sense,<br>And daze the anguish of my heart with dreams.<br>And change the stop of grief; and turn my soul<br>A little devious from the daily march<br>Of Reason, and the path of conscious woe<br>And all the truth of Life! Better, oh Love,<br>In fond delusion to be twice betrayed,<br>Than know so well and bitterly as I.<br>Let me be mad.' (She wept upon her knees.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I will arise and seek thee. This is Heaven.<br>I sat upon a cloud. It bore me in.<br>It is not so, you Heavens! I am not dead.<br>Alas! there have been pangs as strong as Death.<br>It would be sweet to know that I am dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Even now I feel I am not of this world,<br>Which sayeth, day and night, 'For all but thee,'<br>And poureth its abundance night and day<br>And will not feed the hunger in my heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I tread upon a dream, myself a dream,<br>I cannot write my Being on the world,<br>The moss grows unrespective where I tread.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I cannot lift mine eyes to the sunshine,<br>Night is not for my slumber. Not for me<br>Sink down the dark inexorable hours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I would not keep or change the weary day;<br>I have no pleasure in the needless night,<br>And toss and wail that other lids may sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I am a very Leper in the Earth.<br>Her functions cast me out; her golden wheels<br>That harmless roll about unconscious Babes<br>Do crush me. My place knoweth me no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I think that I have died, oh you sweet Heavens.<br>I did not see the closing of the eyes.<br>Perchance there is one death for all of us<br>Whereof we cannot see the eyelids close.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Dear Love, I do beseech thee answer me.<br>Dear Love, I think men's eyes behold me not.<br>The air is heavy on these lips that strain<br>To cry; I do not warm the thing I touch;<br>The Lake gives back no image unto me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I see the Heavens as one who wakes at noon<br>From a deep sleep. Now shall we meet again!<br>The Country of the blest is hid from me<br>Like Morn behind the Hills. The Angel smiles.<br>I breathe thy name. He hurleth me from Heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Now of a truth I know thou art on Earth.<br>Break, break the chains that hold me back from thee.<br>I see the race of mortal men pass by;<br>The great wind of their going waves my hair;<br>I stretch my hands, I lay my cheek to them,<br>In love; they stir the down upon my cheek;<br>I cannot touch them, and they know not me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Oh God! I ask to live the saddest life!<br>I care not for it if I may but live!<br>I would not be among the dead, oh God!<br>I am not dead! oh God, I will not die!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So throbbed the trouble of this crazed heart.<br>So on the broken mirror of her mind<br>In bright disorder shone the shatter'd World.<br>So, out of tune, in sympathetic chords,<br>Her soul is musical to brooks and birds,<br>Winds, seasons, sunshine, flowers, and maundering trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Hear gently all the tale of her distress.<br>The heart that loved her loves not now yet lives.<br>What the eye sees and the ear hears-the hand<br>That wooing led her thro' the rosy paths<br>Of girlhood, and the lenten lanes of Love,<br>The brow whereon she trembled her first kiss,<br>The lips that had sole privilege of hers,<br>The eyes wherein she saw the Universe,<br>The bosom where she slept the sleep of joy,<br>The voice that made it sacred to her sleep<br>With lustral vows; that which doth walk the World<br>Man among Men, is near her now. But He<br>Who wandered with her thro' the ways of Youth,<br>Who won the tender freedom of the lip,<br>Who took her to the bosom dedicate<br>And chaste with vows, who in the perfect whole<br>Of gracious Manhood was the god that stood<br>In her young Heaven, round whom the subject stars<br>Circled: in whose dear train, where'er he passed<br>Thronged charmèd powers; at whose advancing feet<br>Upspringing happy seasons and sweet times<br>Made fond court carolling; who but moved to stir<br>All things submissive, which did magnify<br>And wane as ever with his changing will<br>She changed the centre of her infinite; He<br>In whom she worshipped Truth, and did obey<br>Goodness; in whose sufficient love she felt,<br>Fond Dreamer! the eternal smile of all<br>Angels and men; round whom, upon his neck,<br>Her thoughts did hang; whom lacking they fell down<br>Distract to the earth; He whom she loved, and who<br>Loved her of old,-in the long days before<br>Chaos, the empyrean days!-(Poor heart,<br>She phrased it so) is no more: and O God!<br>Thorough all Time, and that transfigured Time<br>We call Eternity, will be no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</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=523134" data-title="Crazed de Sydney Thompson Dobell" data-description="'The Spring again hath started on the course
Wherein she seeketh Summer thro' the Earth.
I will arise and go upon my way.
It may be that the leaves of Autumn hid
His footsteps from me; it may be the snows.


'He is not dead. There was no funeral;
..."></div>
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