No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. This morn is merry June, I trow, But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again. He turned his charger as he spake, He gave his bridle-reins a shake, Said, 'Adieu for evermore, My love! And adieu for evermore.' CXLIV. L LUCY ASHTON'S SONG. OOK not thou on beauty's charming,— Sit thou still when kings are arming,— Taste not when the wine-cup glistens,— Speak not when the people listens,— Stop thine ear against the singer,— From the red gold keep thy finger,— Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, Easy live and quiet die. CXLV. SONG. AH! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The lark, his lay who trilled all day, Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, The village maid steals through the shade To beauty shy, by lattice high, Now reigns o'er earth and sky; CXLVI FLORA'S SONG. 'HE sun upon the lake is low, THE The wild birds hush their song, The hills have evening's deepest glow, Now all whom varied toil and care The noble dame on turret high, The village maid, with hand on brow, Upon the footpath watches now For Colin's darkening plaid. Now to their mates the wild swans row, By day they swam apart, And to the thicket wanders slow The hind beside the hart. The woodlark at his partner's side Twitters his closing song All meet whom day and care divide, But Leonard tarries long! CXLVII. W SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 1772-1834. THE KNIGHT'S TOMB. HERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? Where may the grave of that good man be?— By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch tree! The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, And his good sword rust ;— His soul is with the saints, I trust. CXLVIII. YOUTH AND AGE. VERSE, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying, VERS Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee Both were mine! life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young! |