Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
Solitude and the LilyRichard Henry Hengist Horne (18021884)
The Lily:
I
And see myself in my own dream,—
Heaven passing, while I do not pass.
Something divine pertains to me,
Or I to it;—reality
Escapes me on this liquid glass.
The changeful clouds that float or poise on high,
Emblem earth’s night and day of history;
Renew’d for ever, evermore to die.
Thy life-dream is thy fleeting loveliness;
But mine is concentrated consciousness,
A life apart from pleasure or distress.
The grandeur of the Whole
Absorbs my soul,
While my caves sigh o’er human littleness.
Ah, Solitude,
Of marble Silence fit abode!
I do prefer my fading face,
My loss of loveliness and grace,
With cloud-dreams ever in my view;
Also the hope that other eyes
May share my rapture in the skies,
And, if illusion, feel it true.