Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow Like little clouds sun-fringed, are thine, Ever varying Madeline. Thy smile and frown are not aloof From one another, Each to each is dearest brother; Hues of the silken sheeny woof Thou art perfect in love-lore, Ever varying Madeline. A subtle, sudden flame, By veering passion fann'd, About thee breaks and dances; When I would kiss thy hand, The flush of anger'd shame O'erflows thy calmer glances, And o'er black brows drops down A sudden-curved frown: But when I turn away, Thou, willing me to stay, Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest; All my bounding heart entanglest Then in madness and in bliss, Thy taper fingers amorously, A sudden-curved frown. SONG. THE OWL. WHEN cats run home and light is come, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits, When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay: Alone and warming his five wits, The white owl in the belfry sits. SECOND SONG. TO THE SAME. THY tuwhits are lull'd I wot, Thy tuwhoos of yesternight, So took echo with delight, That her voice untuneful grown, I would mock thy chaunt anew; Not a whit of thy tuwhoo, Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, With a lengthen❜d loud halloo, Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. I. WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow'd back with me The forward-flowing tide of time; And many a sheeny summer-morn, |