Into their mother's bosom, sweet and soft, Nature's pure tears which have no bitterness ;- They spread themselves into the loveliness Hang like moist clouds :—or, where high branches kiss, Make a green space among the silent bowers, Surrounded by the columns and the towers All overwrought with branch-like traceries` Odours and gleams and murmurs, which the lute Stirs as it sails, now grave and now acute, Wakening the leaves and waves, ere it has past One tone, which never can recur, has cast, One accent never to return again. The world is full of Woodmen who expel THE TOWER OF FAMINE. AMID the desolation of a city, Which was the cradle, and is now the grave Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of oblivion's wave, For bread, and gold, and blood: pain, linked to guilt, Until its vital oil is spent or spilt: There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers Of solitary wealth; the tempest-proof Are by its presence dimmed-they stand aloof, And are withdrawn-so that the world is bare, Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror L EVENING. PONTE A MARE, PISA. THE sun is set; the swallows are asleep; There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town. Within the surface of the fleeting river The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immovably unquiet, and for ever It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the ... You, being changed, will find it then as now. The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut Which the keen evening star is shining through. AND, like a dying lady, lean and pale, 1820. WHEN soft winds and sunny skies Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey. 1821. Poems of Pure Nature. PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. LISTEN, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine, It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar, Heard in its raging ebb and flow By the captives pent in the cave below. Is a mighty mountain dim and grey, Which between the earth and sky doth lay; And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm. |