Books by Robert Seymour

Quotes by Robert Seymour
For beauty being the best of all we know
Sums up the unsearchable and secret aims
Of nature.
As night is withdrawn
From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May,
Dream, while the innumerable choir of day
Welcome the dawn.
I will not let thee go.
I hold thee by too many bands:
Thou sayest farewell, and lo!
I have thee by the hands,
And will not let thee go.
The broad cloud-driving moon in the clear sky
Lifts o’er the firs her shining shield,
And in her tranquil light
Sleep falls on forest and field.
See! sleep hath fallen: the trees are asleep:
The night is come. The land is wrapt in sleep.
I love all beauteous things,
I seek and adore them.
I live on hope and that I think do all
Who come into this world.
Scatter the clouds that hide
The face of heaven, and show
Where sweet peace doth abide,
Where Truth and Beauty grow.
Awake! the land is scattered with light, and see,
Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree.
My delight and thy delight
Walking, like two angels white,
In the gardens of the night.
To-morrow it seem
Like the empty words of a dream
Remembered on waking.
And now impatiently despairest, see
How nought is changed: Joy's wisdom is attired
Splended for others' eyes if not for thee:
Not love or beauty or youth from earth is fled:
If they delite thee not, 'tis thou art dead.
When men were all asleep the snow came flying‚
In large white flakes falling on the city brown‚
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying‚
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.
And Reason kens he herits in
A haunted house. Tenants unknown
Assert their squalid lease of sin
With earlier title than his own.
On such a night, when Air has loosed
Its guardian grasp on blood and brain,
Old terrors then of god or ghost
Creep from their caves to life again.
Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid
A million buds but stay their blossoming
And trustful birds have built their nests amid
The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing
Till one soft shower from the south shall bid
And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of Spring.
The evening darkens over
After a day so bright,
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,
It leaps in the sky.
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees.
When first we met we did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master.
Surely thy body is thy mind,
For in thy face is nought to find,
Only thy soft unchristened smile,
That shadows neither love nor guile.
When Death to either shall come—
I pray it be first to me.
Angels’ song, comforting
as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderly
to his sorrowful flock.
The constellated sounds
ran sprinkling on earth’s floor
As the dark vault above
with stars was spangled o’er.
Perfect little body‚ without fault or stain on thee‚
With promise of strength and manhood full and fair!
Why hast thou nothing in thy face?
Thou idol of the human race,
Thou tyrant of the human heart,
The flower of lovely youth that art.
Behind the western bars
The shrouded day retreats,
And unperceived the stars
Steal to their sovran seats.

And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.
The storm is over, the land hushes to rest:
The tyrannous wind, its strength fordone,
Is fallen back in the west.
Robert Seymour's Biography
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