Who hardly knew me living, let them

come,

I am their father; but she must not come, For my dead face would vex her after-life. And now there is but one of all my blood Who will embrace me in the world-to-be : This hair is his : she cut it off and gave it, And I have borne it with me all these years,

And thought to bear it with me to my grave;

But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,

My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,

Take, give her this, for it may comfort

her:

It will moreover be a token to her, That I am he.'

He ceased; and Miriam Lane Made such a voluble answer promising all, That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her

Repeating all he wish'd, and once again She promised.

Then the third night after this, While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,

And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,

There came so loud a calling of the sea, That all the houses in the haven rang. He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad

Crying with a loud voice 'A sail! a sail! I am saved;' and so fell back and spoke

no more.

So past the strong heroic soul away. And when they buried him the little port Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.

THE BROOK.

HERE, by this brook, we parted; I to the East

And he for Italy-too late-too late : One whom the strong sons of the world despise ;

For lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share,

And mellow metres more than cent for cent;

Nor could he understand how money breeds,

Thought it a dead thing; yet himself could make

The thing that is not as the thing that is.

O had he lived! In our schoolbooks we say,

Of those that held their heads above the crowd,

They flourish'd then or then; but life in him

Could scarce be said to flourish, only

touch'd

On such a time as goes before the leaf, When all the wood stands in a mist of

green,

And nothing perfect: yet the brook he loved,

For which, in branding summers of Bengal,

Or ev'n the sweet half-English Neilgherry

air

I panted, seems, as I re-listen to it, Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,

To me that loved him; for 'O brook,' he

says,

'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his

rhyme,

'Whence come you?' and the brook, why

not? replies.