I wonder'd at the bounteous hours,
The slow result of winter showers:
You scarce could see the grass for flowers.

I wonder'd, while I paced along:
The woods were fill'd so full with song,
There seem'd no room for sense of wrong.

So variously seem'd all things wrought,
I marvell'd how the mind was brought
To anchor by one gloomy thought;

And wherefore rather I made choice
To commune with that barren voice,
Than him that said, "Rejoice! rejoice!"

(1853)

CXII

THE DAY-DREAM

PROLOGUE

O, LADY FLORA, let me speak :
A pleasant hour has past away
While, dreaming on your damask cheek,
The dewy sister-eyelids lay.

As by the lattice you reclined,

I went thro' many wayward moods
To see you dreaming and, behind,
A summer crisp with shining woods.
And I too dream'd, until at last

Across my fancy, brooding warm,
The reflex of a legend past,

And loosely settled into form.
And would you have the thought I had,
And see the vision that I saw,
Then take the broidery-frame, and add
A crimson to the quaint Macaw,
And I will tell it. Turn your face,

Nor look with that too-earnest eye-
The rhymes are dazzled from their place,
And order'd words asunder fly.

THE SLEEPING PALACE

I

THE varying year with blade and sheaf
Clothes and reclothes the happy plains;

Here rests the sap within the leaf,

Here stays the blood along the veins. Faint shadows, vapours lightly curl'd,

Faint murmurs from the meadows come, Like hints and echoes of the world To spirits folded in the womb.

2

Soft lustre bathes the range of urns
On every slanting terrace-lawn.
The fountain to his place returns

Deep in the garden lake withdrawn.
Here droops the banner on the tower,

On the hall-hearths the festal fires,
The peacock in his laurel bower,
The parrot in his gilded wires.

3

Roof-haunting martins warm their
eggs.
In these, in those the life is stay'd.
The mantles from the golden pegs
Droop sleepily: no sound is made,
Not even of a gnat that sings.

More like a picture seemeth all
Than those old portraits of old kings,

That watch the sleepers from the wall.

4

Here sits the Butler with a flask

Between his knees, half-drain'd; and there The wrinkled steward at his task, The maid-of-honour blooming fair: The page has caught her hand in his : Her lips are sever'd as to speak :

His own are pouted to a kiss :

The blush is fix'd upon her cheek.

5

Till all the hundred summers pass,

The beams, that thro' the Oriel shine,
Make prisms in every carven glass,
And beaker brimm'd with noble wine
Each baron at the banquet sleeps,
Grave faces gather'd in a ring.
His state the king reposing keeps.
He must have been a jovial king.

6

All round a hedge upshoots, and shows
At distance like a little wood;
Thorns, ivies, woodbine, misletoes,

And grapes with bunches red as blood;
All creeping plants, a wall of green
Close-matted, bur and brake and briar,
And glimpsing over these, just seen,
High up, the topmost palace-spire.

7

When will the hundred summers die,
And thought and time be born again,
And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,
Bring truth that sways the soul of men?
Here all things in their place remain,
As all were order'd, ages since.
Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,
And bring the fated fairy Prince.

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

I

YEAR after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purpled coverlet,

The maiden's jet-black hair has grown, On either side her tranced form

Forth streaming from a braid of pearl : The slumbrous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl.

2

The silk star-broider'd coverlid

Unto her limbs itself doth mould Languidly ever; and, amid

Her full black ringlets downward roll d, Glows forth each softly-shadow'd arm With bracelets of the diamond bright: Her constant beauty doth inform

Stillness with love, and day with light.

3

She sleeps her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart.

The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd

That lie upon her charmed heart.

She sleeps on either hand upswells
The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest:
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest.

ALL precious things, discover'd late,
To those that seek them issue forth;
For love in sequel works with fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth.
He travels far from other skies-
His mantle glitters on the rocks—
A fairy Prince, with joyful eyes,
And lighter-footed than the fox.

2

The bodies and the bones of those
That strove in other days to pass,
Are wither'd in the thorny close,
Or scatter'd blanching on the grass.
He gazes on the silent dead :

They perish'd in their daring deeds." This proverb flashes thro' his head, "The many fail: the one succeeds."

3

He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks : He breaks the hedge: he enters there : The colour flies into his cheeks:

He trusts to light on something fair; For all his life the charm did talk

About his path, and hover near With words of promise in his walk, And whisper'd voices at his ear.

4

More close and close his footsteps wind:
The Magic Music in his heart
Beats quick and quicker, till he find
The quiet chamber far apart.

His spirit flutters like a lark,

He stoops-to kiss her-on his knee.

"Love, if thy tresses be so dark,

How dark those hidden eyes must be !

A TOUCH, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks,
And feet that ran, and doors that clapt,
And barking dogs, and crowing cocks;
A fuller light illumined all,

A breeze thro' all the garden swept,
A sudden hubbub shook the hall,
And sixty feet the fountain leapt.

2

The hedge broke in, the banner blew,
The butler drank, the steward scrawl'd,
The fire shot up, the martin flew,

The parrot scream'd, the peacock squall'd,
The maid and page renew'd their strife,
The palace bang'd, and buzz'd and clackt,
And all the long-pent stream of life
Dash'd downward in a cataract.

3

And last with these the king awoke,
And in his chair himself uprear'd,

And yawn'd, and rubb'd his face, and spoke,
By holy rood, a royal beard!

66

How say you? we have slept, my lords.

My beard has grown into my lap." The barons swore, with many words, 'Twas but an after-dinner's nap.

66

4

Pardy," return'd the king, "but still
My joints are something stiff or so.
My lord, and shall we pass the bill
I mention'd half an hour ago?"
The chancellor, sedate and vain,

In courteous words return'd reply :
But dallied with his golden chain,
And, smiling, put the question by.

AND on her lover's arm she leant,

And round her waist she felt it fold,