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Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
friend, All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
A CHANGED FRIEND.
Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
[green, Kissing with golden face the meadows Gilding paled streams with heavenly al
chemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow;
[mine, But, out! alack! he was but one hour The regent cloud hath masked him from
(eth; Yet him for this my love no whit disdainSuns of the world may stain, when
heaven's sun staineth.
1585—1649. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. SWEET bird, that sing'st away the early
hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present
are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet
smelling flowers: To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy
bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee He did not
spare: A stain to human sense in sin that lowers, What soul can be so sick, which by thy
songs (Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and
wrongs, And lift à reverend eye and thought to
heaven? Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost
raise To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.
THE FADING FLOWER.
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
[in joy. Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights Why lovest thou that which thou receiv'st
not gladly. Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who con
founds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
[another, Mark how one string, sweet husband to Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire and child and happy.
mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechless song, being many,
seeming one, Sings this to thee, “Thou single wilt prove none.'
Look how the flower, which lingeringly doth fade,
[queen, The morning's darling late, the summer's Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh
[head: As high as it did raise, bows low the Right so the pleasures of my life being
dead, Or in their contraries but only seen, With swifter speed declines than erst it
spread, And (blasted) scarce now shows what it
hath been. Therefore, as doth the pilgrim, whom the
night Hastes darkly to imprison on his way, Think on thy home (my soul), and think
aright Of what's yet left thee of life's wasting day: Thy sun posts westward, passèd is thy
morn, And twice it is not given thee to be born. SLEEP.
TO MY DEAD LOVE.
SLEEP, silence' child, sweet father of soft
rest, Prince, whose approach peace to all mor
tals brings, Indifferent host to shepherds or to kings, Sole comforter of minds which are op
pressed. Lo! by thy charming rod all breathing
things Lie slumbering with forgetfulness pos
sessed, And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy
wings Thou sparest, alas! who cannot be thy
guest. Since I am thine, oh, come, but with that
face To inward light which thou art wont to
show, With feignéd solace ease a true-felt woe ; Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace, Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt
bequeath, I long to kiss the image of my death.
I KNOW that all beneath the moon decays, And what by mortals in this world is brought In time's great periods shall return to
nought ; That fairest states have fatal nights and
days. I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays, With toil of spright, which are so dearly
bought, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought. That there is nothing lighter than vain
praise. I know frail beauty's like the purple flower, To which one morn oft birth and death
affords; That love a jarring is of mind's accords, Where sense and will bring under reason's
power :Know what I list, this all cannot me move, But that, alas ! I both must write and love.
TO THE THRUSH.
TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
DEAR chorister, who from those shadows
sends, Ere that the blushing morn dare show her
light, Such sad lamenting strains, that night
attends, (Become all ear), stars stay to hear thy
plight; If one, whose grief even reach of thought
transcends, Who ne'er (not in a dream) did taste de
light, May thee impòrtune, who like case pre
tends, And seems to joy in woe, in woe's despite; Tell me (so may thou fortune milder try, And long, long sing !) for what thou thus
complains, Since winter's gone, and sun in dappled
sky Enamoured smiles on woods and flowery
plains ? The bird, as if my questions did her move, With trembling wings, sighed forth, "I
love, I love !"
O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy
spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are
still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart
dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious
May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's
bill, Portend success in love; oh, if Jove's
will Have linked that amorous power to thy
soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove
nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too
late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: Whether the Muse or Love call thee his
mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am
ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.
METHOUGHT I saw my late-espoused
saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the
grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad
husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale
and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child.
bed taint Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to
have Full sight of her in heav'n without re
straint, Came vested all in white, pure as her
mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied
sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her per
son shined So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But oh, as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back
That flowsin vain o'er all my soul held dear, I may look back on many a sorrow past, And greet life's peaceful evening with a
smile As some lone bird at day's departing hour Sings in the sunshine of the transient
shower, Forgetful though its wings are wet the
while : Yet ah! what ills must that poor heart
endure, Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a
SONNET ON WESTMINSTER
Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
rare, (From time to time, like pilgrims, here and there
(dark, Crossing the waters) doubt, and something Of the old sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous bark !
EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless
air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear Godl the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still.
THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
[powers: Getting and spending, we lay waste our Little we see in nature that is ours, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
(moon; This sea that bares her bosom to the The winds that will be howling at all hours,
[flowers; And are up-gathered now like sleeping For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less
forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd
TO A SNOWDROP.
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
me here, If thou appear'st untouched by solemn
thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the
year, And worshipp'st at the temple's inner
shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
LONE flower, hemmed in with snows, and
white as they, But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day
(waylay Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue
eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odours lavish
ing On the soft west wind and his frolic peers; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of
spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years !
[must go? WHERE lies the land to which yon ship Festively she puts forth her trim array, As vigorous as a lark at break of day: Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? What boots the inquiry ?-Neither friend
nor foe She cares for: let her travel where she may, She finds familar names, a beaten way