But now that I've become a man,
I'd have thee come and tell to me,
If the boyish dreams are true

I have had of thee.

Tell me why and whence thou comest,
On thy little rainbow wing;
Why unto the flowers thou hummest,
And dost never sing.

But I hear a sober spirit

Talking as unto a child;

I must leave my bird and listen
To its accents mild.

Question not all things thou seest;

Things there are thou canst not know, Learn from thy own dreams of childhood Not too far to go.

Thou canst seldom track THE SPIRIT,

Whence or how or why it is;

In its unseen deeps for ever

Are there mysteries.

Be content to see—and seeing,

On the threshold pause and bow

To the great all-loving Being

With an humble brow!

On Hearing Triumphant Music.

THAT joyous strain

Wake, wake again!

O'er the dead stillness of my soul it lingers.
Ring out, ring out

The music-shout!

I hear the sounding of thy flying fingers,

And to my soul the harmony

Comes like a freshening sea.

Again, again!

Farewell, dull pain,⚫

Thou heartache, rise not while those harpstrings quiver! Sad feelings, hence!

I feel a sense

Of a new life come like a rushing river,

Freshening the fountains parched and dry,

That in my spirit lie.

That glorious strain!

O, from my brain

32

ON HEARING TRIUMPHANT MUSIC.

I see the shadows flitting like scared ghosts!
A light, a light

Shines in to-night,

O'er the good angels trooping to their posts,— And the black cloud is rent in twain

Before the ascending strain.

It dies away,

It would not stay,

So sweet, so fleeting; yet to me it spake
Strange peace of mind

I could not find,

Before that lofty strain the silence brake.
So let it ever come to me

1838.

With an undying harmony.

The Rainbow.

CHILD of the sunlight,
Flower of the skies,

Blooming in petals
Of heavenly dyes;

Springing and growing

In thy garden of mist, Where the sun hath so often The thunder-cloud kissed.

Beautiful flower!

So broad and so round, North and South touching, Half underground;

Dark in the middle,

But on thy border

Seven bright colours

Ranked in their order!

The clouds are all weeping,

But ere the sun sets, He flings them this flower To chase their regrets;

And soon shall their tear-drops

Be dry for the day,

For they'll take up the flower, And bear it away.

Still thou art blooming,

Flower of the skies;

Brighter are growing

Thy heavenly dyes,

In the dark halls of thunder, Outspreading, alone,

Thou reignest o'er cloud-land, The heavens are thy own.

Queen of the meteors,
Child of the shower,
I hail thee I'll name thee
Heaven's sun-flower!

Alas, thou art fading,

Thou'rt withering away! Dark disc and bright petal,

They droop with the day.