And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

far away, dissolve, and quite forget

hat thou among the leaves hast never known, weariness, the fever, and the fret

ere, where men sit and hear each other groan; re palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, here youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden'ey'd despairs,

here Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

y! away! for I will fly to thee,

t charioted by Bacchus and his pards, on the viewless wings of Poesy,

ough the dull brain perplexes and retards: ady with thee! tender is the night,

ad haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light,

ve what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

not see what flowers are at my feet, -r what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet herewith the seasonable month endows grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; ite hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

ling I listen; and, for many a time

have been half in love with easeful Death,
d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
take into the air my quiet breath;

more than ever seems it rich to die,

cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

I wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.

wast not born for death, immortal Bird! hungry generations tread thee down; voice I hear this passing night was heard ancient days by emperor and clown:

ps the self-same song that found a path rough the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home

he stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

rm'd magic casements, opening on the foam If perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

rn! the very word is like a bell
toll me back from thee to my sole self!
! the fancy cannot cheat so well

she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.

! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
it the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:

s it a vision, or a waking dream?
d is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?

IOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, n historian, who canst thus express flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? at men or gods are these?

oth?

What maidens

mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

d melodies are sweet, but those unheard e sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, be to the spirit ditties of no tone:

youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave y song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, gh winning near the goal-yet, do not grieve; e cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed ur leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; happy melodist, unwearied,

rever piping songs forever new;

happy love! more happy, happy love! rever warm and still to be enjoy'd, Forever panting, and forever young; reathing human passion far above,

at leaves a heart high sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

d all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
little town by river or seashore,
mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
little town, thy streets forevermore
silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

tic shape! Fair attitude! with brede marble men and maidens overwrought, forest branches and the trodden weed; ou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought oth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

en old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, eauty is truth, truth beauty," that is all We know on earth, and all ye need to know.

ODE TO AUTUMN

ASON of mists, and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the mauring sun; piring with him how to load and bless th fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, d fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel-shells th a sweet kernel; to set budding more, still more, later flowers for the bees,

they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

བ་

སྐྱསཔར། སཔཔ་་

y ha soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

ɔn a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, rowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;

sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep eady thy laden head across a brook;

r by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. re are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

ink not of them, thou hast, thou hast thy music, too,

le barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
nd touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue:
n in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
mong the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
| full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
edge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
he redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

N FIRST READING CHAPMAN'S HOMER

UCH have I traveled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; nd many Western Islands have I been

ch bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

of one wide expanse had I been told