This first poem bit, Ianthe, has a special meaning to me, because my sister Beth once used it when referring to me. Imagine my interest, therefore, when I found that it was only a fragment of a longer poem Walter S. Landor wrote (hope you enjoy these selections!):
Ianthe
FROM you, Ianthe, little troubles
pass
Like little ripples down a sunny river;
Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,
Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.
Like little ripples down a sunny river;
Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,
Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.
‘DO you remember me? or are you
proud?’
Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,
Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes.
‘A yes, a yes to both: for Memory
Where you but once have been must ever be,
And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’
Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,
Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes.
‘A yes, a yes to both: for Memory
Where you but once have been must ever be,
And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’
Ianthe! You are Call’d to Cross
the Sea
Ianthe! you are call’d to cross
the sea!
A path forbidden me!
Remember, while the Sun his
blessing sheds
Upon the mountain-heads,
How often we have watcht him
laying down
His brow, and dropt our own
Against each other’s, and how
faint and short
And sliding the support!
What will succeed it now? Mine is
unblest,
Ianthe! nor will rest
But on the very thought that
swells with pain.
O bid me hope again!
O give me back what Earth, what
(without you)
Not Heaven itself can do—
One of the golden days that we
have past,
And let it be my last!
Or else the gift would be,
however sweet,
Fragile and incomplete.
Soon, O Ianthe! Life is O'er
Soon, O Ianthe! life is o’er,
And sooner beauty’s heavenly
smile:
Grant only (and I ask no more),
Let love remain that little
while.
Oh wow... I didn't know there was an entire poem written about "Ianthe!" That's really neat! Now I have to go unearth it for myself... ;-)
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