Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: TERRA INCOGNITA, by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: TERRA INCOGNITA, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: How sweet it is to sit beside her
Last Line: Cold, unspotted, let her go!
Alternate Author Name(s): Meredith, Owen; Lytton, 1st Earl Of; Lytton, Robert
Subject(s): France; Love - Unrequited; Travel; Journeys; Trips


HOW sweet it is to sit beside her,
When the hour brings nought that's better!
All day in my thoughts to hide her,
And, with fancies free from fetter,
Half remember, half forget her.
Just to find her out by times
In my mind, among sweet fancies
Laid away:
In the fall of mournful rhymes;
In a dream of distant climes;
In the sights a lonely man sees
At the dropping of the day;
Grave or gay.
As a maiden sometimes locks
With old letters, whose contents
Tears have faded,
In an old worm-eaten box,
Some sweet packet of faint scents,
Silken-braided;
And forgets it:
Careless, so I hide
In my life her love, --
Fancies on each side,
Memories heaped above: --
There it lies, unspied:
Nothing frets it.
On a sudden, when
Deed, or word, or glance,
Brings me back again
To the old romance,
With what rapture then, --
When, in its completeness,
Once my heart hath found it,
By each sense detected,
Steals on me the sweetness
Of the air around it,
Where it lies neglected!
Shall I break the charm of this
In a single minute?
For some chance with fuller bliss
Proffered in it?
Secrets unsealed by a kiss,
Could I win it!
'T is so sweet to linger near her,
Idly so!
Never reckoning, while I hear her
Whispering low,
If each whisper will make clearer
Bliss or woe;
Never roused to hope or fear her
Yes or No!
What if, seeking something more
Than before,
All that's given I displace --
Calm and grace --
Nothing ever can restore,
As of yore,
That old quiet face!
Quiet skies in quiet lakes,
No wind wakes,
All their beauty double:
But a single pebble breaks
Lake and sky to trouble;
Then dissolves the foam it makes
In a bubble.
With the pebble in my hand,
Here, upon the brink, I stand;
Meanwhile, standing on the brink,
Let me think!
Not for her sake, but for mine,
Let those eyes unquestioned shine,
Half divine:
Let no hand disturb the rare
Smoothness of that lustrous hair
Anywhere:
Let that white breast never break
Its calm motion -- sleep or wake --
For my sake.
Not for her sake, but for mine,
All I might have, I resign.
Should I glow
To the hue -- the fragrance fine --
The mere first sight of the wine,
If I drained the goblet low?
Who can know?
With her beauty like the snow,
Let her go! Shall I repine
That no idle breath of mine
Melts it? No! 'T is better so.
All the same, as she came,
With her beauty like the snow,
Cold, unspotted, let her go!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net