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THE CLOUD. Dark and dismal as the tomb
To the wretch condemn’d to die, So yon cloud with sickly gloom
Overspreads the cheerful sky. While the shadows which it traces
Thus obscure this lower scene,
All is sunny and serene.
Let us take the comfort given
THE OPEN WINDOW. The old house by the lindens
Stood silent in the shade, And in the gravell’d pathway
The light and shadow play’d.
Wide open to the air;
They were no longer there.
Was standing by the door ;
Who would return no more.
They walk'd not under the lindens,
They play'd not in the hall;
Were hanging over all.
With sweet familiar tone;
Will be heard in dreams alone.
He could not understand
CHARITY. The secret that doth make a flower a flower So frames it that to bloom is to be sweet, And to receive to give. No soil so sterile, and no living lot So poor, but it hath somewhat still to spare In bounteous odours. Charitable they Who, be their having more or less, so have 'I'bat less is more than need, and more is less Than the great heart's goodwill.
THE CHILD AND THE LILY. INNOCENT Child and snow-white flower! Well are ye pair'd in your opening hour, Thus should the pure and the lovely meet, Stainless with stainless, and sweet with sweet. White, as those leaves just blown apart, Are the pliant folds of thy own young heart; Guilty passion and cankering care Ne'er yet have left their traces there.
Artless one! though thou gazest now
THE PASSING BELL. As slow and solemn yonder deepening knell Tolls through the sullen evening's shadowy gloom, Alone and pensive in my silent room, On man and on mortality I dwell. And as the harbinger of death I hear, Frequent and full, much do I love to muse On life's distempered scenes of hope and fear, And passion varying her chameleon hues, And man pursuing pleasure's empty shade Till death dissolves the vision. So the child In youth's gay morn with wondering pleasure guiled, As with the shining ice well pleased he play'd; Nor as he grasps the crystal in his play, Heeds how the faithless bauble melts away.
Southey. THE SHIP. STATELY yon vessel sails adown the tide,
To some far distant land adventurous bound, The sailors' busy cries, from side to side,
Pealing among the echoing rocks, resound;
Joyful they enter on their ocean way;
And know no care beyond the present day.
Who sorrows for a child or husband there? Who, at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer ? So may her voice be heard, and heaven be kind, Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
DURING A TEMPEST.
Safe sbeltered as I am, I almost fear
What were it now to toss upon the waves,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves ?
And in the dread of death to think of her
DEC A Y.
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
TIME NEGLECTED. The lapse of time and rivers is the same; Both speed their journey with a restless stream. The silent pace with which they steal away No wealth can bribe, no prayer persuade to stay ; Alike irrevocable both when past, And a rude ocean swallows both at last. Though each resemble each in every part, A difference strikes at length the musing heart: Streams never flow in vain ; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty round! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected, leaves a drcary waste behind.