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ON THE SIGHT OF SWANS IN KEN
QUEEN-BIRD that sittest on thy shining nest, And thy young cygnets without sorrow
hatchest, And thou, thou other royal bird, that watchest Lest the white mother wandering feet molest: Shrined are your offspring in a chrystal cradle, Brighter than Helen's ere she yet had burst Her shelly prison. They shall be born at first Strong, active, graceful, perfect, swan-like able To tread the land or waters with security. Unlike poor human births, conceived in sin, In grief brought forth, both outwardly and in Confessing weakness, error, and impurity. Did heavenly creatures own succession's line, The births of heaven like to your's would shine.
Was it some sweet device of Faery
while Soft soothing things, which might enforce
despair To drop the murdering knife, and let go by His foul resolve. And does the lonely glade Still court the foot-steps of the fair-hair'd maid? Still in her locks the gales of summer sigh ? While I forlorn do wander reckless where, And 'mid my wanderings meet no Anna there.
METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclin'd
When last I roved these winding wood-walks
green, Green winding walks, and shady pathways
sweet, Oft-times would Anna seek the silent scene, Shrouding her beauties in the lone retreat. No more I hear her footsteps in the shade : Her image only in these pleasant ways Meets me self-wandering, where in happier days I held free converse with the fair-hair'd maid. I passed the little cottage which she loved, The cottage which did once my all contain ; It spake of days which ne'er must come again, Spake to my heart, and much my heart was moved. “ Now fair befall thee, gentle maid !” said I, And from the cottage turned me with a sigh.
A TIMID grace sits trembling in her eye,