So sweet even in their silence, on those eyes
That image sleep in death, upon that form
Yet safe from the worm's outrage, let no tear
Be shed-not even in thought. Nor, when those hues
Are gone, and those divinest lineaments,
Worn by the senseless wind, shall live alone
In the frail pauses of this feeble strain,
Let not high verse mourning the memory
Of that which is no more, or painting's woe,
Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery
Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence,
And all the shows o' the world, are frail and vain
To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade.
It is a woe "too deep for tears" when all
Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit,
Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves
Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans,
The passionate tumult of a clinging hope-
But pale despair and cold tranquillity,
Nature's vast frame, the web of human things,
Birth and the grave, that are not as they were.

EARLY POEMS.

1.

TO COLERIDGE.

Hi there are spirits in the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts with eyes as fair
As starbeams among twilight trees-
Such lovely ministers to meet

Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.

2. With mountain winds, and babbling springs, And moonlight seas, that are the voice Of these inexplicable things,

Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice When they did answer thee. But they Cast like a worthless boon thy love away.

3. And thou hast sought in starry eyes

Beams that were never meant for thine,
Another's wealth-tame sacrifice

To a fond faith! Still dost thou pine? Still dost thou hope that greeting hands, Voice, looks, or lips, may answer thy demands ↑

4. Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope
On the false earth's inconstancy?
Did thine own mind afford no scope

Of love or moving thoughts to thee-
That natural scenes or human smiles

Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles?

5. Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled

Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted;
The glory of the moon is dead;

Night's ghosts and dreams have now departed:
Thine own soul still is true to thee,

But changed to a foul fiend through misery.

6. This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever
Beside thee like thy shadow hangs,
Dream not to chase-the mad endeavour
Would scourge thee to severer pangs.
Be as thou art. Thy settled fate,
Dark as it is, all change would aggravate.

A

STANZAS-APRIL 1814.

WAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:

Away the gathering winds will call the darkness

soon,

And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.

Pause not the time is past! Every voices cries "Away!"

Tempt not with one last glance thy friend's ungentle mood:

Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:

Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;

Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,

And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth. The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around

thine head,

[thy feet: The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,

Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace, may meet.

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own

repose,

For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep; Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep. [toms flee Thou in the grave shalt rest-yet, till the phanWhich that house and heath and garden made dear

to thee erewhile,

Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free

From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.

1.

WE

MUTABILITY.

E are as clouds that veil the midnight moon ;
How restlessly they speed and gleam and
quiver,

Streaking the darkness radiantly! yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:
2. Or like forgotten lyres whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.

3. We rest-a dream has power to poison sleep;

We rise-one wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive, or reason, laugh or weep,
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away.

4. It is the same !-For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free;
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.

ON DEATH.

"There is no work nor device nor knowledge nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest."-ECCLESIASTES.

1.

HE pale, the cold, and the moony smile

ΤΗ

Which the meteor beam of a starless night

Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle

Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light