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 THE DAY-DREAM. PROLOGUE. O, LADY FLORA, let me speak : 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, So 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 eyeThe rhymes are dazzled from their place, And order'd words asunder fly. THE SLEEPING PALACE. 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from the meadows come, Like hints and echoes of the world Soft lustre bathes the range of urns Deep in the garden lake withdrawn. The parrot in his gilded wires. Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs : More like a picture seemeth all 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. Till all the hundred summers pass, All round a hedge upshoots, and shows And grapes with bunches red as blood; When will the hundred summers die, Bring truth that sways the soul of men ? Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain, And bring the fated fairy Prince. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. YEAR after year unto her feet, She lying on her couch alone, Across the purpled coverlet, The maiden's jet-black hair has grown, |