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Nature's observatory-whence the dell,
May seem a span ; let me thy vigils keep
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Is my soul's pleasure ; and it sure must be
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
O one who has been long in city pent,
And open face of heaven-to breathe a prayer
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
Catching the notes of Philomel-an eye
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
That falls through the clear ether silently.
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.
UCH have I travelled in the realms of gold,
And inany goodly states and kingdoms seen ; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his deinense ;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
When a new planet swims into his ken ;
He stared at the Pacific—and alĩ his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS AT AN EARLY
IVE me a golden pen, and let me lean
On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and
Bring me a tablet whiter than a star,
And let there glide by many a pearly car,
Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar, And half-discovered wings, and glances keen. The while let music wander round my ears, And as it reaches each delicious ending,
Let me write down a line of glorious tone, And full of many wonders of the spheres : For what a height my spirit is contending !
'Tis not content so soon to be alone.
ADDRESSED TO HAYDON.
IGH-MINDEDNESS, a jealousy for good, Dwells here and there with people of no name, In noisome alley, and in pathless wood : And where we think the truth least understood,
Oft may be found a "singleness of aim,'
That ought to frighten into hooded shame
Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly!
Envy and Malice to their native sty? Unnumbered souls breathe out a still applause,
Proud to behold him in his country's eye.
ADDRESSED TO THE SAME.
He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake, Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing: He of the rose, the violet, the spring,
The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake :
And lo!-whose steadfastness would never take
Upon the forehead of the age to come ;
And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum
Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.
ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
HE poetry of earth is never dead :
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-inown mead ; That is the Grasshopper's—he takes the lead
In summer luxury—he has never done
With his delights ; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never :
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling;
The name of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,
When some good spirit walks upon the earth,
Thy nanie with Alfred's, and the great of yore
To where the great God lives for evermore.