XII.

And say to Robert a kind word, and tell him not to fret; There's many worthier than I, would make him happy

yet.

If I had lived—I cannot tell

I might have been his

wife;

But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire

of life.

XIII.

O look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. And there I move no longer now, and there his light

Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine.

XIV.

O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is

done

The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the

sun

For ever and for ever with those just souls and true — And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado?

XV.

For ever and for ever, all in a blessed home

And there to wait a little while till you and Effie

come

To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your

breast

And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary

are at rest.

THE LOTOS-EATERS.

I.

"COURAGE!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land,
In which it seemed always afternoon.

All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.

II.

A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;

And some thro' wavering lights and shadows brokę, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.

They saw the gleaming river seaward flow

From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,

Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

III.

The charmed sunset linger'd low adown

In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale

Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale ;

A land where all things always seem'd the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,

The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

IV.

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave

To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave

On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,

His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake,

And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

V.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more;
And all at once they sang, "Our island home

Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."