Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/31

 Smiling those smiles, which I may not return, Or frowning frowns of fierce triumphant malice, As angry claimants or expectants sure Of that I promised and may not perform, Look me in the face! O hide me, Mother Night!

Once more the wonted road I tread, Once more dark heavens above me spread, Upon the windy down I stand, My station whence the circling land Lies mapped and pictured wide below;— Such as it was, such e'en again, Long dreary bank, and breadth of plain By hedge or tree unbroken;—lo, A few grey woods can only show How vain their aid, and in the sense Of one unaltering impotence, Relieving not, meseems enhance The sovereign dulness of the expanse. Yet marks where human hand hath been, Bare house, unsheltered village, space Of ploughed and fenceless tilth between (Such aspect as methinks may be In some half-settled colony), From Nature vindicate the scene; A wide, and yet disheartening view, A melancholy world.

'Tis true, Most true; and yet, like those strange smiles By fervent hope or tender thought From distant happy regions brought, Rh