Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute,

The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute:
No song but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.

When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest,
The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[graphic][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

My little boat, for many quiet hours, With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.

Many and many a verse I hope to write, Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white,

Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees

Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly
dress

My uncertain path with green, that I may speed

Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

HYMN TO PAN. BOOK I

O THOU, whose mighty palace roof doth hang

From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death

[blocks in formation]

O thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles

Passion their voices cooingly 'mong myrtles,

What time thou wanderest at eventide Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side

Of thine enmossed realms: O thou, to whom

Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom

Their ripen'd fruitage; yellow girted bees

Their golden honeycombs; our village leas

Their fairest-blossom'd beans and poppied corn ;

The chuckling linnet its five young unborn,

To sing for thee; low creeping strawberries

Their summer coolness; pent up butterflies

Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh budding year

All its completions - be quickly near, By every wind that nods the mountain. pine,

O forester divine!

Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies

For willing service; whether to surprise The squatted hare while in half sleeping fit; Or upward ragged precipices flit

[blocks in formation]

O Hearkener to the loud clapping Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?

[blocks in formation]

That spreading in this dull and clodded Though he should dance from eve till

[blocks in formation]

peep of day

Nor any drooping flower

Held sacred for thy bower,

Wherever he may sport himself and play.

"To Sorrow,

I bade good-morrow,

« AnteriorContinuar »