To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler! — that loveprompted strain -'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring. Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine, Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home! WE ARE SEVEN. A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? 66 Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid, "Their graves are green, they may My stockings there I often knit, And there upon the ground I sit I sit and sing to them, And often after sunset, sir, The first that died was little Jane; So in the churchyard she was laid; And steps of virgin liberty; And now I see with eye serene And when the ground was white with Endurance, foresight, strength, and snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side. "How many are you then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" The little maiden did reply, "O master! we are seven! "But they are dead; those two are dead! Their spirits are in Heaven!" SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT. SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; A dancing shape, an image gay, I saw her upon nearer view, free, skill; SCORN NOT THE SONNET. SCORN not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honors: with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; [grief; Camoëns soothed with it an exile's The sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow; a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from fairy-land To struggle through dark ways; and, when a damp [hand Fell round the path of Milton, in his The thing became a trumpet, whence he blew Soul-animating strains - alas, too few! WESTMINSTER bridge. EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by wear A sight so touching in its majesty: This city now doth like a garment [bare, The beauty of the morning; silent, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still! TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE new-comer! I have heard, O cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, While I am lying on the grass, I hear thee babbling to the vale Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush and tree and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen! And I can listen to thee yet; O blessed bird! the earth we pace An unsubstantial, fairy place; SIR THOMAS WYATT. DESCRIPTION OF THE ONE HE WOULD LOVE. A FACE that should content me wondrous well, Should not be fair, but lovely to behold; With gladsome cheer, all grief for to expel; With sober looks so would I that it should Speak without words, such words as none can tell; The tress also should be of crispèd gold. With wit, and these, might chance I might be tied, And knit again the knot that should not slide. A LOVER'S PRAYER. DISDAIN me not without desert, Nor leave me not so suddenly; Since well ye wot that in my heart I mean ye not but honestly. Refuse me not without cause why, Nor think me not to be unjust; Since that by lot of fantasy, I trust some time my harm may be my health, This careful knot needs knit I Since every woe is joined with some must. wealth. |