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, The light of thy great presence; and the Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung cope Of the half-attain'd futurity, Tho' deep not fathomless, cloud. V. Was cloven with the million stars which Large dowries doth the raptured eye Thou comest not with shows of flaunting That all which thou hast drawn of fairest 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 The seven elms, the poplars four In every elbow and turn, SONG A CHARACTER-THE POET. With plaited alleys of the trailing rose, Long alleys falling down to twilight grots, Or opening upon level plots Of crowned lilies, standing near Whither in after life retired With youthful fancy re-inspired, We may hold converse with all forms Of the many-sided mind, And those whom passion hath not blinded, My friend, with you to live alone, O strengthen me, enlighten me ! And the breath 13 Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily hangs the broad sunflower A CHARACTER. WITH a half-glance upon the sky He spake of beauty: that the dull Life in dead stones, or spirit in air; He smooth'd his chin and sleek'd his hair, He spake of virtue: not the gods And with a sweeping of the arm, Most delicately hour by hour Earthward he boweth the heavy Blew his own praises in his eyes, He saw thro' life and death, thro' good And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise 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. Before him lay with echoing feet he❘ There was no blood upon her maiden robes 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, 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 And vagrant melodies the winds which Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, VEX not thou the poet's mind For thou canst not fathom it. Clear and bright it should be ever, So many minds did gird their orbs with Flowing like a crystal river; 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. THE SEA-FAIRIES—THE DESERTED HOUSE. In your eye there is death, Where you stand you cannot hear 15 Down shower the gambolling waterfalls In the heart of the garden the merry bird High over the full-toned sea: chants. It would fall to the ground if you came in. In the middle leaps a fountain With a low melodious thunder; 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, Over the islands free; And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand; Hither, come hither and see; 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 Runs up the ridged sea. Who can light on as happy a shore THE DESERTED HOUSE. I. LIFE and Thought have gone away Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they! II. All within is dark as night: 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 But in a city glorious— A great and distant city-have bought 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. And loudly did lament. And took the reed-tops as it went. II. Some blue peaks in the distance rose, One willow over the river wept, 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 Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear; And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd 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, A DIRGE. I. Now is done thy long day's work; Shadows of the silver birk |