AFTER A LECTURE ON MOORE. Be patient! On the breathing page Though still the lark-voiced matins ring The wood-thrush of the West shall sing AFTER A LECTURE ON MOORE. SHINE soft, ye trembling tears of light What though her thousand years have Of poets, saints, and kings, Her echoes only hear the last That swept those golden strings. past 101 Fling o'er his mound, ye star-lit bowers, The balmiest wreaths ye wear, Whose breath has lent your earth-born flowers Heaven's own ambrosial air. Breathe, bird of night, thy softest tone, By shadowy grove and rill; Thy song will soothe us while we own Stay, pitying Time, thy foot for him Who gave thee swifter wings, Nor let thine envious shadow dim The light his glory flings. If in his cheek unholy blood That blooms a milk-white flower. Take him, kind mother, to thy breast, And spread thy mantle o'er his rest Of rose and asphodel. AFTER A LECTURE ON MOORE. The bark has sailed the midnight sea, The sea without a shore, That waved its parting sign to thee, "A health to thee, Tom Moore !" And thine, long lingering on the strand, To seek the silent world. Not silent! no, the radiant stars Still singing as they shine, Unheard through earth's imprisoning bars, Have voices sweet as thine. Wake, then, in happier realms above The songs of bygone years, Till angels learn those airs of love That ravished mortal ears! 103 AFTER A LECTURE ON KEATS. "Purpureos spargam flores." THE wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave Is lying on thy Roman grave, Yet on its turf young April sets Her store of slender violets; Though all the Gods their garlands shower, I too may bring one purple flower. Alas! what blossom shall I bring, That opens in my Northern spring? The garden beds have all run wild, AFTER A LECTURE ON KEATS. 105 Though its long blade of glossy green Above the garden's queens and kings. Yet one sweet flower of ancient race Springs in the old familiar place. When snows were melting down the vale, And March his stormy trumpet blew, That broke the soil with emerald beak, And watch the trembling bells so blue Meek child of earth! thou wilt not shame |