III. Whilome thou camest with the morning (mist, And with the evening cloud, Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open (breast Those peerless flowers which in the rudest (wind Never grow sere, When rooted in the garden of the mind, Because they are the earliest of the year). Nor was the night thy shroud. In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope. The eddying of her garments caught from (thee The light of thy great presence; and the cope Of the half-attain'd futurity, Tho' deep not fathomless, Was cloven with the million stars which (tremble O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy. Small thought was there of life's distress; For sure she deem'd no mist of earth could (dull Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and beau(tiful: Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres, O strengthen me, enlighten me! IV. Come forth, I charge thee, arise. Unto mine inner eye, Thou wert not nursed by the waterfall Which ever sounds and shines A pillar of white light upon the wall Of purple cliffs, aloof descried: Come from the woods that belt the gray hill(side, The seven elms, the polars four O! hither lead thy feet! Pour round mine ears the livelong bleat When the first matin-song hath waken'd (loud Over the dark dewy earth forlorn, Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung (cloud. V. Large dowries doth the raptured eye In triumph led, With music and sweet showers Unto the dwelling she must sway. With royal frame-work of wrought gold, Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay, And foremost in thy various gallery Place it, where sweetest sunlight falls For the discovery And newness of thine art so pleased thee, That all which thou hast drawn of fairest Or boldest since, but lightly weighs On the prime labour of thine early days: Of heaped hills that mound the sea, Where from the frequent bridge, The trenched waters run from sky to sky; With plaited alleys of the trailing rose, II. Whence that aery bloom of thine, III. What hope or fear or joy is thine? Hast thou heard the butterflies 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, And those dew-lit eyes of thine, 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. A CHARACTER. He spake of virtue: not the gods And wing'd with flame, Like Indian reeds blown from his silver (tongue, And of so fierce a flight, From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung, And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Cleaving,took root,and springing forth anew Like to the mother plant in semblance,grew And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling To throng with stately blooms the breath(ing spring Of Hope and Youth. So many minds did gird their orbs with (beams, Tho' one did fling the fire. Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire. Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the (world Like one great garden show'd, And thro' the wreaths of floating dark up(curl'd, Rare sunrise flow'd. And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise Her beautiful bold brow, When rites and forms before his burning eyes There was no blood upon her maiden robes And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame All evil dreams of power - a sacred name. And when she spake, He saw thro' life and death; thro' good Her words did gather thunder as they ran, (and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay: with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame: The viewless arrows of his thoughts were (headed And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, Making earth wonder, So was their meaning to her words. No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world. THE POET'S MIND. I. VEX not thou the poet's mind For thou canst not fathom it. Clear and bright it should be ever, Flowing like a crystal river; Bright as light, and clear as wind. II. Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear, Holy water will I pour Into every spicy flower Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. In the heart of the garden the merry bird (chants, you came in. It would fall to the ground if In the middle leaps a fountain Like sheet lightning. Ever brightening With a low melodious thunder: All day and all night it is ever drawn From the brain of the purple mountain Which stands in the distance yonder : It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven (above, And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it; your ears are so (dull; So keep where you are: you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in. THE SEA-FAIRIES. SLOW Sail'd the weary mariners and saw, Betwixt the green brink and the running (foam, Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest To little harps of gold; and while they (mused, Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. (away? fly no more. Whither away from the high green field, (and the happy blossoming shore? Day and night to the billow the fountain (calls: Down shower the gambolling waterfalls Out of the live-green heart of the dells High over the full-toned sea: O hither, come hither and furl your sails, And the rainbow lives in the curve of the (sand; Hither, come hither and see; And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave, O hither, come hither, and be our lords, We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet (words: O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten Runs up the ridged sea. Who can light on as happy a shore THE DESERTED HOUSE. As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps (of gold, And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd And the creeping mosses and clambering (weeds, And the willow-branches hoar and dank, And the silvery marish-flowers that throng |