When rooted in the garden of the mind, Because they are the earliest of the year). Nor was the night thy shroud.

In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.

The eddying of her garments caught from thee

Pour round mine ears the livelong bleat Of the thick-fleeced sheep from wattled folds,

Upon the ridged wolds, When the first matin-song hath waken'd loud

Over the dark dewy earth forlorn,
What time the amber morn

cope

Of the half-attain'd futurity,

Tho' deep not fathomless,

cloud.

V.

vines

Unto mine inner eye,

Divinest Memory!

Thou wert not nursed by the waterfall Which ever sounds and shines

A pillar of white light upon the wall
Of purple cliffs, aloof descried :
Come from the woods that belt the gray
hill-side,

The seven elms, the poplars four
That stand beside my father's door,
And chiefly from the brook that loves
To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed sand,
Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves,
Drawing into his narrow earthen urn,

In every elbow and turn,
The filter'd tribute of the rough woodland,
O! hither lead thy feet!

With plaited alleys of the trailing rose, Long alleys falling down to twilight grots,

Or opening upon level plots

Of crowned lilies, standing near
Purple-spiked lavender :

Whither in after life retired
From brawling storms,
From weary wind,

With youthful fancy re-inspired,

We may hold converse with all forms Of the many-sided mind,

And those whom passion hath not blinded,
Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded.

My friend, with you to live alone,
Were how much better than to own
A crown, a sceptre, and a throne !

O strengthen me, enlighten me !
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.

And the breath

13

Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose.

Heavily hangs the broad sunflower
Over its grave i' the earth so chilly;
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.

A CHARACTER.

WITH a half-glance upon the sky
At night he said, 'The wanderings
Of this most intricate Universe
Teach me the nothingness of things.'
Yet could not all creation pierce
Beyond the bottom of his eye.

He spake of beauty: that the dull
Saw no divinity in grass,

Life in dead stones, or spirit in air;
Then looking as 'twere in a glass,

He smooth'd his chin and sleek'd his hair,
And said the earth was beautiful.

He spake of virtue: not the gods
More purely, when they wish to charm
Pallas and Juno sitting by :

And with a sweeping of the arm,
And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye,
Devolved his rounded periods.

Most delicately hour by hour
He canvass'd human mysteries,
And trod on silk, as if the winds

and ill,

He saw thro' his own soul.

The marvel of the everlasting will,

An open scroll,

Her beautiful bold brow,

When rites and forms before his burning

eyes

Melted like snow.

threaded

The secretest walks of fame : The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed

And wing'd with flame,

Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue,

And of so fierce a flight,

From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung,
Filling with light

Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes

And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame

WISDOM, a name to shake

All evil dreams of power-a sacred name. And when she spake,

Her words did gather thunder as they ran, And as the lightning to the thunder

VEX not thou the poet's mind
With thy shallow wit:
Vex not thou the poet's mind;

For thou canst not fathom it. Clear and bright it should be ever,

Bright as light, and clear as wind.

II.

Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear; All the place is holy ground; Hollow smile and frozen sneer

Come not here.

Holy water will I pour

Into every spicy flower

Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. The flowers would faint at your cruel

cheer.

In your eye there is death,
There is frost in your breath
Which would blight the plants.

Where you stand you cannot hear
From the groves within
The wild-bird's din.

15

chants.

It would fall to the ground if you came

in.

In the middle leaps a fountain
Like sheet lightning,
Ever brightening

With a low melodious thunder;
All day and all night it is ever drawn
From the brain of the purple mountain
Which stands in the distance yonder :
It springs on a level of bowery lawn,
And the mountain draws it from Heaven
above,

And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full,

You never would hear it; your ears are so dull;

So keep where you are: you are foul with

O hither, come hither and furl your sails,
Come hither to me and to me:
Hither, come hither and frolic and play;
Here it is only the mew that wails;
We will sing to you all the day:
Mariner, mariner, furl your sails,
For here are the blissful downs and dales,
And merrily, merrily carol the gales,
And the spangle dances in bight and bay,
And the rainbow forms and flies on the
land

Over the islands free;

And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand;

Hither, come hither and see;
And the rainbow hangs on the poising

wave,

And sweet is the colour of cove and cave, And sweet shall your welcome be :

O hither, come hither, and be our lords, For merry brides are we :

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words:

O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
With pleasure and love and jubilee :
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
When the sharp clear twang of the golden
chords

Runs up the ridged sea.

Who can light on as happy a shore
All the world o'er, all the world o'er?
Whither away? listen and stay: mariner,
mariner, fly no more.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

I.

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they!

II.

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

III.

Close the door, the shutters close,

Or thro' the windows we shall see The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark deserted house.

IV.

Come away: no more of mirth

Is here or merry-making sound. The house was builded of the earth, And shall fall again to ground.

V.

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious—

A great and distant city-have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!

THE DYING SWAN.

I.

THE plain was grassy, wild and bare, Wide, wild, and open to the air, Which had built up everywhere

An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,

And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day.
Ever the weary wind went on,

And took the reed-tops as it went.

II.

Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.

One willow over the river wept,
And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;
Above in the wind was the swallow,

Chasing itself at its own wild will, And far thro' the marish green and still

The tangled water-courses slept, Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.

III.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy

Hidden in sorrow at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach
stole

Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and
harps of gold,

And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd
Thro' the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the even-
ing star.

And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,

And the willow-branches hoar and dank, And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,

And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,

And the silvery marish - flowers that throng

The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.

A DIRGE.

I.

Now is done thy long day's work;
Fold thy palms across thy breast,
Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest.
Let them rave.

Shadows of the silver birk
Sweep the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.