III.

Whilome thou camest with the morning (mist,

And with the evening cloud, Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open (breast

Those peerless flowers which in the rudest (wind

Never grow sere,

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

The light of thy great presence; and the cope Of the half-attain'd futurity,

Tho' deep not fathomless,

Was cloven with the million stars which (tremble

O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy. Small thought was there of life's distress; For sure she deem'd no mist of earth could (dull

Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and beau(tiful:

Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,
Listening the lordly music flowing from
The illimitable years.

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

IV.

Come forth, I charge thee, arise.
Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes!
Thou comest noth with shows of flaunting
(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 polars 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!

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

Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung (cloud.

V.

Large dowries doth the raptured eye
To the young spirit present
When first she is wed;
And like a bride of old

In triumph led,

With music and sweet showers
Of festal flowers,

Unto the dwelling she must sway.
Well hast thou done, great artist Memory,
In setting round thy first experiment

With royal frame-work of wrought gold, Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay, And foremost in thy various gallery

Place it, where sweetest sunlight falls
Upon the storied walls;

For the discovery

And newness of thine art so pleased thee, That all which thou hast drawn of fairest

Or boldest since, but lightly weighs
With thee unto the love thou bearest
The first-born of thy genius. Artist-like,
Ever retiring thou dost gaze

On the prime labour of thine early days:
No matter what the sketch might be;
Whether the high field on the bushless Pike,
Or even a sand-built ridge

Of heaped hills that mound the sea,
Overblown with murmurs harsh,
Or even a lowly cottage whence we see
Stretch'd wide and wild the waste enor-
(mous marsh,

Where from the frequent bridge,
Like emblems of infinity,

The trenched waters run from sky to sky;
Or a garden bower'd close

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,

II.

Whence that aery bloom of thine,
Like a lily which the sun
Looks thro' in his sad decline,
And a rose-bush leans upon,
Thou that faintly smilest still,
As a Naiad in a well,
Looking at the set of day,
Or a phantom two hours old
Of a maiden past away,
Ere the placid lips be cold?
Wherefore those faint smiles of thine,
Spiritual Adeline?

III.

What hope or fear or joy is thine?
Who talketh with thee, Adeline?
For sure thou art not all alone:
Do beating hearts of salient springs
Keep measure with thine own?"

Hast thou heard the butterflies
What they say betwixt their wings?
Or in stillest evenings
With what voice the violet woos
To his heart the silver dews?
Or when little airs arise,
How the merry bluebell rings

To the mosses underneath? Hast thou look'd upon the breath Of the lilies at sunrise? Wherefore that faint smile of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline?

IV.

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind,
Some spirit of a crimson rose
In love with thee forgets to close
His curtains, wasting odorous sighs
All night long on darkness blind.
What aileth thee? whom waitest thou
With thy soften'd, shadow'd brow,

And those dew-lit eyes of thine,
Thou faint smiler, Adeline?

V.

Lovest thou the doleful wind

When thou gazest at the skies? Doth the low-tongued Orient Wander from the side of the morn, Dripping with Sabæan spice On thy pillow, lowly bent

With melodious airs lovelorn, Breathing Light against thy face, While his locks a-drooping twined Round thy neck in subtle ring Make a carcanet of rays,

And ye talk together still,

In the language wherewith Spring Letters cowslips on the hill? Hence that look and smile of thine, Spiritual Adeline.

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
Blew his own praises in his eyes,
And stood aloof from other minds
In impotence of fancied power.
With lips depress'd as he were meek,
Himself unto himself he sold:
Upon himself himself did feed:
Quiet, dispassionate, and cold,
And other than his form of creed,
With chisell'd features clear and sleek.

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

And vagrant melodies the winds which bore
Them earthward till they lit;
Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field flower,
Then fruitful wit

Cleaving,took root,and springing forth anew
Where'er they fell, behold,

Like to the mother plant in semblance,grew
A flower all gold.

And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling
The winged shafts of truth,

To throng with stately blooms the breath(ing spring

Of Hope and Youth.

So many minds did gird their orbs with (beams,

Tho' one did fling the fire.

Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire.

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the (world

Like one great garden show'd, And thro' the wreaths of floating dark up(curl'd,

Rare sunrise flow'd.

And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise Her beautiful bold brow,

When rites and forms before his burning eyes
Melted like snow.

There was no blood upon her maiden robes
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,

He saw thro' his own soul.

The marvel of the everlasting will,

An open scroll,

Before him lay: with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame:

The viewless arrows of his thoughts were (headed

And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man,

Making earth wonder,

So was their meaning to her words. No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd,

But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world.

THE POET'S MIND.

I.

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, 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.
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.

In the heart of the garden the merry bird (chants,

you came in.

It would fall to the ground if 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 sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in.

THE SEA-FAIRIES.

SLOW Sail'd the weary mariners and saw, Betwixt the green brink and the running (foam,

Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest To little harps of gold; and while they (mused,

Whispering to each other half in fear,

Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea.

(away? fly no more.

Whither away from the high green field, (and the happy blossoming shore?

Day and night to the billow the fountain (calls:

Down shower the gambolling waterfalls
From wandering over the lea:

Out of the live-green heart of the dells
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,
And thick with white bells the clover-hill
(swells

High over the full-toned sea:

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.

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 evening
(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.