THE POET'S SONG. "HE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, THE He passed by the town, and out of the street, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee, The snake slipt under a spray, The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak And stared, with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs, But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be LILIAN. AIRY, fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Clasps her tiny hands above me, Laughing all she can ; LILIAN. She'll not tell me if she love me, When my passion seeks Pleasance in love-sighs, She, looking through and through me Smiling, never speaks: So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, Glancing with black-beaded eyes, Prithee weep, May Lilian! Gayety without eclipse Wearieth me, May Lilian: Through my very heart it thrilleth When from crimson-threaded lips Silver-treble laughter trilleth : Prithee weep, May Lilian. Praying all I can, If prayers will not hush thee, Airy Lilian, Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee, Fairy Lilian. 23 WH THE OWL. 7HEN cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay; Alone and warming his five wits The white owl in the belfry sits. TO THE OWL. 25 THY TO THE SAME. HY tuwhits are lulled, I wot, Thy tuwhoos of yesternight, Which upon the dark afloat, So took echo with delight, So took echo with delight, That her voice, untuneful grown, I would mock thy chant anew; Not a whit of thy tuwhoo, Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, With a lengthened loud halloo, A SPIRIT HAUNTS. A I. SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours, Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers: For at eventide, listening earnestly, At his work you may hear him sob and sigh In the walks ; Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks Of the mouldering flowers: Heavily hangs the broad sunflower Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. II. The air is damp, and hushed, and close, My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves And the breath Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily hangs the broad sunflower Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. |