CLOUDS.-W. Barnes. ONRIDING slow, at lofty height, And some like rocks, and towers of stone, So things may meet, but never stand, Some grounds of grief, and some of fears; But never long abiding still. THE BLESSED DAMOZEL.-D. G. Rossetti. THE blessed damozel looked out She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, Herseemed she scarce had been a day One of God's choristers; The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers; Albeit, to them she left, her day (To one, it is ten years of years. Yet now, and in this place, Surely she leaned o'er me- her hair Nothing the autumn fall of leaves. It was the rampart of God's house It lies in Heaven, across the flood Beneath, the tides of day and night Heard hardly, some of her new friends Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm. From the fixed place of Heaven she saw Through all the world. Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce Its path; and now she spoke as when The stars sank in their spheres. The sun was gone now; the curled moon Fluttering far down the gulf; and now (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song, Strove not her accents there, Fain to be hearkened? When those bells 'I wish that he were come to me, 'Have I not prayed in Heaven?-on earth, 'When round his head the aureole clings, I'll take his hand and go with him 'We two will stand beside that shrine, Whose lamps are stirred continually 'We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch 'And I myself will teach to him, I myself, lying so, The songs I sing here; which his voice Shall pause in, hushed and slow, And find some knowledge at each pause, Or some new thing to know.' (Alas! We two, we two, thou say'st! That once of old. But shall God lift The soul whose likeness with thy soul 'We two,' she said, 'will seek the groves With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies, Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret and Rosalys. 'Circlewise sit they, with bound locks 'He shall fear, haply, and be dumb : To his, and tell about our love, My pride, and let me speak. 'Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, To Him round whom all souls Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads Bowed with their aureoles : And angels meeting us shall sing To their citherns and citoles. 'There will I ask of Christ the Lord Only to live as once on earth She gazed and listened and then said, 'All this is when he comes.' She ceased: The Light thrilled towards her, fill'd With angels in strong level flight. Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd. (I saw her smile.) But soon their path And laid her face between her hands, TO A SKY-LARK.-Wordsworth. UP with me! up with me into the clouds! Up with me, up with me into the clouds ! With all the heavens about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to my mind! I have walked through wildernesses dreary, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine Up with me, up with me, high and high, Thou art laughing and scorning; To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy liver! With a soul as strong as a mountain river, |