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From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
That whenever a March-wind sighs
In violets blue as your eyes,
And the valleys of Paradise.
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
Knowing your promise to me; The lilies and roses were all awake,
They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Come hither, the dances are done,
Queen lily and rose in one;
To the flowers, and be their sun. There has fallen a spendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my life, my fate;
And the white rose weeps, ‘She is late';
And the lily whispers, 'I wait.'
Were it ever so airy a tread,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
Had I lain for a century dead;
In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers : Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.
It is the little rift within the lute,
The little rift within the lover's lute,
It is not worth the keeping: let it go : But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no. And trust me not at all or all in all.
The year 's at the spring,
The hill-side 's dew-pearled;
The lark 's on the wing;
Give her but a least excuse to love me!
If fortune fixed her as my lady there,
('Hist!'--said Kate the queen; But Oh'cried the maiden, binding her tresses,
''Tis only a page that carols unseen,
Merely an earth to cleave, a sea to part.
(“Nay, list!'-bade Kate the queen;
« 'Tis only a page that carols unseen,
then overflowed the world.
THE LOST LEADER
Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat-
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
So much was theirs who so little allowed :
How all our copper had gone for his service!
proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured
him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and to die! Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from
their graves ! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves !
We shall march prospering--not thro' his pres
ence; Songs may inspirit us,-not from his lyre; Deeds will be done,-while he boasts his quiescence,
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire : Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath
untrod, One more devils’-triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of twi
light, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him,-strike
gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his own; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne !
HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD Oh, to be in England now that April's there. And whoever wakes in England sees, some morn
ing, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's
edge That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice
over, Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower --Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-West
Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into
Cadiz Bay; Bluish mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar
lay; In the dimmest North-East distance, dawned
Gibraltar grand and grey;