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Dressing their hair with the white sea

flower;

And holding them back by their flowing

locks

I would kiss them often under the sea, And kiss them again till they kiss'd me Laughingly, laughingly;

And then we would wander away, away To the pale-green sea-groves straight and high,

Chasing each other merrily.

III.

There would be neither moon nor star; But the wave would make music above us afar

Low thunder and light in the magic night

Neither moon nor star.

We would call aloud in the dreamy dells, Call to each other and whoop and cry

All night, merrily, merrily; They would pelt me with starry spangles and shells,

Laughing and clapping their hands be

tween,

All night, merrily, merrily :

But I would throw to them back in mine
Turkis and agate and almondine :
Then leaping out upon them unseen
I would kiss them often under the sea,
And kiss them again till they kiss'd me

Laughingly, laughingly.

Oh! what a happy life were mine
Under the hollow-hung ocean green!
Soft are the moss-beds under the sea;
We would live merrily, merrily.

Combing her hair
Under the sea,

In a golden curl

With a comb of pearl,

On a throne?

II.

I would be a mermaid fair;

I would sing to myself the whole of the

day;

With a comb of pearl I would comb my

hair;

And still as I comb'd I would sing and

say,

'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?' I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall

Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around,

And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone

With a shrill inner sound,

Over the throne

In the midst of the hall;

Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in

at the gate

With his large calm eyes for the love of

me.

And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality

Die in their hearts for the love of me.

We would run to and fro, and hide and

seek,

On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson

shells,

Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call, and shriek,

And adown the steep like a wave I would leap

From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells;

For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list,

Of the bold merry mermen under the

sea;

They would sue me, and woo me, and

flatter me,

In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry

me,

Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea;
Then all the dry pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned,

and soft

Would lean out from the hollow sphere of

the sea,

All looking down for the love of me.

ADELINE.

I.

MYSTERY of mysteries,

Faintly smiling Adeline,
Scarce of earth nor all divine,

Nor unhappy, nor at rest,

But beyond expression fair
With thy floating flaxen hair;

Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes
Take the heart from out my breast.
Wherefore those dim looks of thine,
Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?

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?

Encircles all the heart, and feedeth The senses with a still delight

Of dainty sorrow without sound, Like the tender amber round, Which the moon about her spreadeth, Moving thro' a fleecy night.

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.

MARGARET.

II.

You love, remaining peacefully,

To hear the murmur of the strife, But enter not the toil of life. Your spirit is the calmed sea,

Laid by the tumult of the fight. You are the evening star, alway

Remaining betwixt dark and bright: Lull'd echoes of laborious day

Come to you, gleams of mellow light
Float by you on the verge of night.

III.

What can it matter, Margaret,

What songs below the waning stars The lion-heart, Plantagenet,

Sang looking thro' his prison bars? Exquisite Margaret, who can tell The last wild thought of Chatelet, Just ere the falling axe did part The burning brain from the true heart, Even in her sight he loved so well?

I.

O SWEET pale Margaret,

O rare pale Margaret,

What lit your eyes with tearful power,
Like moonlight on a falling shower?
Who lent you, love, your mortal dower
Of pensive thought and aspect pale,
Your melancholy sweet and frail
As perfume of the cuckoo-flower?
From the westward-winding flood,
From the evening-lighted wood,

From all things outward you have

won

A tearful grace, as tho' you stood

Between the rainbow and the sun. The very smile before you speak,

That dimples your transparent cheek,

IV.

A fairy shield your Genius made

And gave you on your natal day. Your sorrow, only sorrow's shade,

Keeps real sorrow far away.
You move not in such solitudes,

You are not less divine,
But more human in your moods,

Than your twin-sister, Adeline.
Your hair is darker, and your eyes

Touch'd with a somewhat darker hue,
And less aërially blue,

But ever trembling thro' the dew
Of dainty-woeful sympathies.