And took its own free course without a care:

Amid the boughs did lute-tongued songsters throng, And the green valley throbb'd beneath their lays, While echo echo chased, through many a leafy maze.

And shapes were there, like spirits of the flowers,
Sent down to see the Summer-beauties dress,
And feed their fragrant mouths with silver showers;
Their eyes peep'd out from many a green recess,
And their fair forms made light the thick-set bowers;
The very flowers seem'd eager to caress

Such living sisters; and the boughs, long-leaved, Cluster'd to catch the sighs their pearl-flush'd bosoms heaved.

One through her long loose hair was backward peeping, Or throwing, with raised arm, the locks aside; Another high a pile of flowers was heaping,

Or looking love askance, and, when descried,
Her coy glance on the bedded greensward keeping;
She pull'd the flowers to pieces as she sigh'd,—
Then blush'd like timid day-break when the dawn
Looks crimson on the night, and then again 's withdrawn.

One, with her warm and milk-white arms outspread,
On tip-toe tripp'd along a sun-lit glade;
Half turn'd the matchless sculpture of her head,
And half shook down her silken circling braid;
She seem'd to float on air, so light she sped;

Her back-blown scarf an arched rainbow made, She skimm'd the wavy flowers, as she pass'd by, With fair and print-like feet, like clouds along the sky.

One sat alone within a shady nook,

With wild-wood songs the lazy hours beguiling;

Or looking at her shadow in the brook,

Trying to frown, then at the effort smiling-
Her laughing eyes mock'd every serious look;
'Twas as if Love stood at himself reviling:
She threw in flowers, and watch'd them float away,
Then at her beauty look'd, then sang a sweeter lay.

Others on beds of roses lay reclined,

The regal flowers athwart their full lips thrown, And in one fragrance both their sweets combined, As if they on the self-same stem had grown;

So close were rose and lip together twined,

A double flower that from one bud had blown,
Till none could tell, so sweetly were they blended,
Where swell'd the curving lip, or where the rose-bloom
ended.

One, half-asleep, crushing the twined flowers,
Upon a velvet slope like Dian lay;

Still as a lark that 'mid the daisies cowers:
Her loop'd-up tunic, toss'd in disarray,
Show'd rounded limbs too fair for earthly bowers;
They look'd like roses on a cloudy day,

The warm white dull'd amid the colder green;
The flowers too rough a couch that lovely shape to screen.

Some lay like Thetis' nymphs along the shore,
With ocean-pearl combing their golden locks,
And singing to the waves for evermore;

Sinking like flowers at eve beside the rocks,
If but a sound above the muffled roar

Of the low waves was heard. In little flocks Others went trooping through the wooded alleys, Their kirtles glancing white, like streams in sunny valleys.

They were such forms as, imaged in the night,

Sail in our dreams across the heavens' steep blue; When the closed lid sees visions streaming bright, Too beautiful to meet the naked view,

Like faces form'd in clouds of silver light.

Women they were! such as the angels knewSuch as the Mammoth look'd on, ere he fled,

Scared by the lovers' wings, that stream'd in sunset red.

MILLER.

A Dream of Winter changed to Spring.

I DREAM'D that, as I wander'd by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,

But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,

Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May,
And cherry-blossoms, and white-cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge

There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge,

And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge

With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers

I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours
Within my hand-and then, elate and gay,

I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it—O! to Whom?

To the Daisy.

WITH little here to do or see

Of things that in the great world be,
Daisy! again I talk to thee,

For thou art worthy;

Thou unassuming Common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with something of a grace
Which Love makes for thee!

SHELLEY.

Oft on the dappled turf at ease

I sit and play with similes,

Loose types of things through all degrees,
Thoughts of thy raising:

And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game,
While I am gazing.

A nun demure of lowly port;
Or sprightly maiden of Love's court,
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations;

A queen in crown of rubies drest ;
A starveling in a scanty vest;
Are all, as seems to suit thee best,
Thy appellations.

A little cyclops, with one eye
Staring, to threaten and defy,

That thought comes next-and instantly
The freak is over,

The shape will vanish, and behold
A silver shield with boss of gold,
That spreads itself, some fairy bold
In fight to cover!

I see thee glittering from afar-
And then thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are

In heaven above thee!

Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest ;-
May peace come never to his nest

Who shall reprove thee!

Bright Flower! for by that name at last,
When all my reveries are past,
I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
Sweet silent creature!

That breath'st with me in sun and air,
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair

My heart with gladness, and a share
Of thy meek nature!

WORDSWORTH.

Stanzas written in Dejection near Naples.

THE sun is warm, the sky is clear,

The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent light:
The breath of the moist air is light
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight,

The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods',

The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore,

Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: I sit upon the sands alone,

The lightning of the noon-tide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,

And walk'd with inward glory crown'd

Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;

To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

Yet now despair itself is mild,

Even as the winds and waters are ;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne, and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,

And I might feel in the warm air

My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

SHELLEY.