XXII.

TO A VOICE HEARD IN MOUNT AUBURN.

LIKE the low warblings of a leaf-hid bird,

Thy voice came to me through the screening trees,
Singing the simplest, long-known melodies;

I had no glimpse of thee, and yet I heard
And blest thee for each clearly-carolled word;

I longed to thank thee, and my heart would frame
Mary or Ruth, some sisterly, sweet name

For thee, yet could I not my lips have stirred;

I knew that thou wert lovely, that thine eyes

Were blue and downcast, and methought large tears,

Unknown to thee, up to their lids must rise
With half-sad memories of other years,

As to thyself alone thou sangest o'er

Words that to childhood seemed to say, "No more!"

XXIII.

ON READING SPENSER AGAIN.

DEAR, gentle Spenser! thou my soul dost lead, A little child again, through Fairyland,

By many a bower and stream of golden sand, And many a sunny plain whose light doth breed A sunshine in my happy heart, and feed

My fancy with sweet visions; I become

A knight, and with my charmèd arms would roam To seek for fame in many a wondrous deed

Of high emprize, for I have seen the light

Of Una's angel's face, the golden hair
And backward eyes of startled Florimell;
And, for their holy sake, I would outdare
A host of cruel Paynims in the fight,
Or Archimage and all the powers of Hell.

XXIV.

LIGHT of mine eyes! with thy so trusting look, And thy sweet smile of charity and love,

That from a treasure well uplaid above,

And from a hope in Christ its blessing took;

Light of my heart! which, when it could not brook The coldness of another's sympathy,

Finds ever a deep peace and stay in thee,

Warm as the sunshine of a mossy nook;

Light of my soul! who, by thy saintliness
And faith that acts itself in daily life,

Canst raise me above weakness, and canst bless
The hardest thraldom of my earthly strife,-

I dare not say how much thou art to me

Even to myself, and O, far less to thee!

-

XXV.

SILENT as one who treads on new-fallen snow,
Love came upon me ere I was aware;

Not light of heart, for there was troublous care
Upon his eyelids, drooping them full low,
As with sad memory of a healed woe;
The cold rain shivered in his golden hair,
As if an outcast lot had been his share,

And he seemed doubtful whither he should go:
Then fell he on my neck, and, in my breast

Hiding his face, awhile sobbed bitterly,

As half in grief to be so long distrest,

And half in joy at his security,

At last, uplooking from his place of rest,

His

eyes shone blessedness and hope on me.

XXVI.

A GENTLENESS that grows of steady faith;
A joy that sheds its sunshine everywhere ;
A humble strength and readiness to bear
Those burthens which strict duty ever lay'th

Upon our souls; which unto sorrow saith,

"Here is no soil for thee to strike thy roots,

Here only grow those sweet and precious fruits;
Which ripen for the soul that well obey'th;"
A patience which the world can neither give
Nor take away; a courage strong and high,
That dares in simple usefulness to live,

And without one sad look behind to die

When that day comes;

these tell me that our love

Is building for itself a home above.