This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
288
CATARINA TO CAMOENS.
Bring the red cloud from the sun!
While he sinketh, catch it—
That shall be a couch,—with one
Sidelong star to watch it,—
Fit for poet's finest Thought,
At the curfew-sounding,—
Things unseen being nearer brought
Than the seen, around him.

Poet's thought,—not poet's sigh!
'Las, they come together!
Cloudy walls divide and fly,
As in April weather!
Corridor and column proud,
Chamber bright to see—
Gone!—except that moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee!

Let them! Wipe such visionings
From the Fancy's cartel—
Love secures some fairer things
Dowered with his immortal!
Suns may darken,—heaven be bowed—
Still, unchanged shall be,—
Soul-deep,—here—that moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee!

Catalina to Camoens;
DYING IN HIS ABSENCE ABROAD, AND REFERRING TO
THE POEM IN WHICH HE RECORDED THE
SWEETNESS OF HER EYES.

On the door you will not enter,
I have gazed too long—adieu!
Hope withdraws her peradventure—
Death is near me,—and not you!