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When the first matin-song hath waken'd loud
Over the dark dewy earth forlorn,
What time the amber morn
Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung cloud.


The air is damp, and hush'd, and close,
As a sick man's room when he taketh repose

An hour before death;
My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves
At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves,

And the breath

of the fading edges of box beneath,
And the year's last rose.
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower

Over its grave i' the earth so chilly,
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,

Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.



MYSTERY of mysteries,

Faintly smiling Adeline, Scarce of earth nor all divine, Nor unhappy, nor at rest,

But beyond expression fair

With thy floating flaxen hair; Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes

Take the heart from out my breast. Wherefore those dim looks of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?


Large dowries doth the raptured eye
To the young spirit present
When first she is wed;

And like a bride of old
In triumph led,

With music and sweet showers

Of festal flowers,

Unto the dwelling she must sway. Well hast thou done, great artist Memory, In setting round thy first experiment

With royal frame-work of wrought gold;
Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay,
And foremost in thy various gallery

Place it, where sweetest sunlight falls
Upon the storied walls ;

For the discovery
And newness of thine art so pleased thee,
That all which thou hast drawn of fairest

Or boldest since, but lightly weighs
With thee unto the love thou bearest
The first-born of thy genius. Artist-like,
Ever retiring thou dost gaze
On the prime labor of thine early days:
No matter what the sketch might be;
Whether the high field on the bushless Pike,
Or even a sand-built ridge
Of heaped hills that mound the sea,
Overblown with murmurs harsh,
Or even a lowly cottage whence we see
Stretch'd wide and wild the waste enormous marsh,
Where from the frequent bridge,
Like emblems of infinity,
The trenched waters run from sky to sky;
Or a garden hower'd close
With plaited alleys of the trailing rose,
Long alleys falling down to twilight grots,
Or opening upon level plots
Of crowned lilies, standing near
Purple-spiked lavender;
Whither in after life retired
From brawling storms
From weary wind,
With youthful fancy reinspired,
We may hold converse with all forms
Of the many-sided mind,
And those whom passion hath not blinded,
Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded,
My friend, with you to live alone,
Were how much better than to own
A crown, a sceptre, and a throne !
O strengthen me, enlighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.

Whence that aery bloom of thine,

Like a lily which the sun Looks thro' in his sad decline,

And a rose-bush leans upon, Thou that faintly smilest still,

As a Naiad in a well,

Looking at the set of day, Or a phantom two hours old

of a maiden past away, Ere the placid lips be cold? Wherefore those faint smiles of thine,

Spiritual Adeline ?


What hope or fear or joy is thine ?
Who talketh with thee, Adeline?
For sure thou art not all alone:

Do beating hearts of salient springs Keep measure with thine own?

Hast thou heard the butterflies,
What they say betwixt their wings?

Or in stillest evenings
With what voice the violet woos
To his heart the silver dews?

Or when little airs arise,
How the merry bluebell rings
To the mosses underneath?

Hast thou look'd upon the breath

Of the lilies at sunrise ? Wherefore that faint smile of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?



1. A SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers:

To himself he talks ; For at eventide, listening earnestly, At his work you may hear him sob and sigh

In the walks ;

Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks Of the mouldering flowers :

Heavily hangs the broad sunflower

Over its grave i’ the earth so chilly;
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,

Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind,

Some spirit of a crimson rose
In love with thee forgets to close

His curtains, wasting odorous sighs All night long on darkness blind. What aileth thee? whom waitest thou With thy soften'd, shadow'd brow,

And those dew-lit eyes of thine,
Thou faint smiler, Adeline?

5. Lovest thou the doleful wind

When thou gazest at the skies ?

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In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants,
It would fall to the ground if you came in.
In the middle leaps a fountain

Like sheet lightning,

Ever brightening
With a low melodious thunder;
All day and all night it is ever drawn

From the brain of the purple mountain

Which stands in the distance yonder: It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it; your ears are so dull; So keep where you are: you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in.

For here are the blissful downs and dales,
And merrily merrily carol the gales,
And the spangle dances in bight and tay,
And the rainbow forms and flies on the land
Over the islands free;
And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand;
Hither, come hither and see ;
And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave,
And sweet is the color of cove and cave,
And sweet shall your welcome be:
O hither, come hither, and be our lords,
For merry brides are we:
We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words:
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
With pleasure and love and jubilee:
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords
Runs up the ridged sea.
Who can light on as happy a shore
All the world o'er, all the world o'er ?
Whither away? lis and stay: mariner, mariner,

fly no more.

THE SEA-FAIRIES. Slow sail'd the weary mariners and saw, Betwixt the green brink and the running foam, Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest To little harps of gold; and while they mused, Whispering to each other half in fear,

Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no



1. LIFE and Thought have gone away

Side by side, Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they!


Whither away from the high green field, and the

happy blossoming shore ? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls ; Down shower the gambolling waterfalls From wandering over the lea: Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea : O hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me: Hither, come hither and frolic and play ; Here it is only the mew that wails; We will sing to you all the day: Mariner, mariner, furl your sails,

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

3. Close the door, the shutters close,

Or thro' the windows we shall see

The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark deserted house.

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6. The gold-eyed kingcups fine; The frail bluebell peereth over Rare broidry of the purple clover.

Let them rave. Kings have no such couch as thine, As the green that folds thy grave.

Let them rave.


The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole;
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear,
But anon her awful, jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice,
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is rollid
Thro' the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willow-branches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marish-flowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.

Wild words wander here and there;
God's great gift of speech abused
Makes thy memory confused:

But let them rave.
The balm-cricket carols clear
In the green that folds thy grave.

Let them rave.

LOVE AND DEATH. What time the mighty moon was gathering light Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise, And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes; When, turning round a cassia, full in view Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, And talking to himself, first met his sight: “You must begone,” said Death, “these walks are

mine." Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight; Yet ere he parted said, “This hour is thine: Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath, So in the light of great eternity Life eminent creates the shade of death; The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall, But I shall reign forever over all."


1. Now is done thy long day's work; Fold thy palms across thy breast, Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest.

Let them rave.



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Oh! narrow, narrow was the space,

Oriana. Loud, loud rung out the bugle's brays,

Oh! deathful stabs were dealt apace,
The battle deepen'd in its place,

Oriana ;
But I was down upon my face,



1. Who would be A merman bold, Sitting alone, Singing alone Under the sea, With a crown of gold, On a throne ?

They should have stabb'd me where I lay,

Oriana !
How could I rise and come away,

Oriana ?
How could I look upon the day?
They should have stabb'd me where I lay,

They should have trod me into clay,


2. I would be a merman bold; I would sit and sing the whole of the day; I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power ; But at night I would roam abroad and play With the mermaids in and out of the rocks, Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower; And holding them back by their flowing locks I would kiss them often under the sea, And kiss them again till they kiss'd me

Laughingly, laughingly; And then we would wander away, away To the pale-green sea-groves straight and high,'

Chasing each other merrily.

O breaking heart that will not break,

O pale, pale face so sweet and meek,

Thou smilest, but thou dost not speak,
And then the tears run down my cheek,

Oriana :

3. There would be neither moon nor star; But the wave would make music above us afarLow thunder and light in the magic night

Neither moon nor star.

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