Ere I saw her who clasp'd in her The espaliers and the standards all Are thine; the range of lawn and park; The unnetted black-hearts ripen dark, All thine, against the garden wall. Yet, tho' I spared thee all the spring. A golden bill! the silver tongue, Gold-mines of thought to lift the | That made thee famous once when And in the sultry garden-squares, Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse, I hear thee not at all, or hoarse As when a hawker hawks his wares. Take warning! he that will not sing While yon sun prospers in the blue, Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new, Caught in the frozen palms of Spring. THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR FULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing; Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, Old year, you must not die; He lieth still, he doth not move; And the New-year will take 'em away. us, Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go. He froth'd his bumpers to the brim; Old year, you shall not die; He was full of joke and jest, Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friend, And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend, Comes up to take his own. How hard he breathes! over the snow 'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands, before you die. What is it we can do for you? His face is growing sharp and thin. And waiteth at the door. And a new face at the door, my A new face at the door. TO J. S. [James Spedding] THE wind that beats the mountain blows More softly round the open wold, And gently comes the world to those That are cast in gentle mould. |