A FAREWELL.

FLOW

A FAREWELL.

LOW down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:

No more by thee my steps shall be,
Forever and forever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:

Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,
Forever and forever.

But here will sigh thine alder-tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee
Forever and forever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
Forever and forever.

67

H

THE BEGGAR MAID.

ER arms across her breast she laid;

She was more fair than words can say: Barefooted came the beggar maid

Before the King Cophetua.

In robe and crown the king stept down,
To meet and greet her on her way;
"It is no wonder," said the lords,

"She is more beautiful than day."

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen :
One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
One her dark hair and lovesome mien.

So sweet a face, such angel grace,

In all that land had never been:

Cophetua sware a royal oath :

64

This beggar maid shall be my queen!

M

OVE eastward, happy earth, and leave

Yon orange sunset waning slow;

From fringes of the faded eve,

O, happy planet, eastward go; Till over thy dark shoulder glow Thy silver sister-world, and rise

To glass herself in dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below.

Ah, bear me with thee, smoothly borne,
Dip forward under starry light,
And move me to my marriage-morn,
And round again to happy night.

THE SKIPPING-ROPE.

URE never yet was Antelope
could skip so lightly by.

Stand off, or else my skipping-rope
Will hit you in the eye.

How lightly whirls the skipping-rope !

How fairy-like you fly!

Go, get you gone, you muse and mope, –

I hate that silly sigh.

Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope,

Or tell me how to die.

There, take it, take my skipping-rope

And hang yourself thereby.

THE SAILOR-BOY.

71

H'

THE SAILOR-BOY.

E rose at dawn, and, fired with hope, Shot o'er the seething harbor-bar, And reach'd the ship and caught the rope, And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud,
He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
"O boy, tho' thou art young and proud,
I see the place where thou wilt lie.

"The sands and yeasty surges mix In caves about the dreary bay, And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,

And in thy heart the scrawl shall play."

"Fool," he answer'd, "death is sure

To those that stay and those that roam,

But I will nevermore endure

To sit with empty hands at home.

"My mother clings about my neck,

My sisters crying stay for shame';

My father raves of death and wreck,

They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

"God help me! save I take my part

Of danger on the roaring sea,

A devil rises in my heart,

Far worse than any death to me."