The upturned leaves first whiten and Then droop to a fitful rest; We shall not see the sun go down to- Now leaps the wind on the sleepy marsh, And tramples the grass with terrified To feet, The startled river turns leaden and harsh. You can hear the quick heart of the tempest beat. Look! look! that livid flash! And instantly follows the rattling thunder, As if some cloud-crag, split asunder, Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash, On the Earth, which crouches in silence under; And now a solid gray wall of rain Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile; For a breath's space I see the blue wood again, And ere the next heart-beat, the wind hurled pile, That seemed but now a league aloof, The crinkled lightning Seems ever brightening, And loud and long Again the thunder shouts His battle-song, One quivering flash, One wildering crash, Followed by silence dead and dull, As if the cloud, let go, Leapt bodily below whelm the earth in one mad overthrow, And then a total lull. Gone, gone, so soon! Can shape a giant in the air, LOVE. TRUE Love is but a humble, low-born thing, Bursts crackling o'er the sun-parched | And hath its food served up in earthen Such is true Love, which steals into the heart With feet as silent as the lightsome dawn That kisses smooth the rough brows of the dark, And hath its will through blissful gentleness, Not like a rocket, which, with savage glare, Whirs suddenly up, then bursts, and leaves the night Painfully quivering on the dazed eyes; A love that gives and takes, that seeth faults, Not with flaw-seeking eyes like needle points, But loving-kindly ever looks them down With the o'ercoming faith of meek forgiveness; A love that shall be new and fresh each hour, As is the golden mystery of sunset, But faces Truth and Beauty as their peer, Showing its worthiness of noble thoughts Of good and beauty in the soul of man, And traces, in the simplest heart that beats, A family-likeness to its chosen one, That claims of it the rights of brotherhood. For love is blind but with the fleshly TO PERDITA, SINGING. THY voice is like a fountain, Leaping up in clear moonshine ; Silver, silver, ever mounting, Ever sinking, Without thinking, To that brimful heart of thine. All thy smiles and all thy tears And sweetness, wove of joy and woe, From their teaching it hath taken : Feeling and music move together, Like a swan and shadow ever Floating on a sky-blue river In a day of cloudless weather. It hath caught a touch of sadness, Yet it is not sad; It hath tones of clearest gladness, A dim, sweet twilight voice it is With starry feelings quivered through. Thy voice is like a fountain Leaping up in sunshine bright, And I never weary counting Thine is music such as yields O, thus forever sing to me! The green, bright grass of childhood bring to me, Flowing like an emerald river, Of that never cold time, Peace sits within thine eyes, With white hands crossed in joyful rest, While, through thy lips and face, arise The beauty which the summer time That filled thy soul with joyous dread, Yea, every holy influence, In thine eyes to-day is seen, Whatever led thy childish feet, Thy voice is like a fountain, Dims the low East with faintest white, We know not if 't is dark or bright; But, when the great moon hath rolled round, And, sudden-slow, its solemn power Grows from behind its black, clear-edged bound, No spot of dark the fountain keepeth, But, swift as opening eyelids, leapeth Into a waving silver flower. THE MOON. My soul was like the sea, Before the moon was made, Moaning in vague immensity, Of its own strength afraid, Unrestful and unstaid. Through every rift it foamed in vain, About its earthly prison, Seeking some unknown thing in pain, And sinking restless back again, For yet no moon had risen: And lived but in an aimless seeking. So was my soul; but when 't was full Whispered a dim foreboding, Making its waters meet, As if by an unconscious will, For the moon's silver feet, And now, howe'er its waves above With guidance sure and peaceful, REMEMBERED MUSIC. A FRAGMENT. THICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast Rising and rising momently, Up to a sudden ecstasy. And then, like minute-drops of rain Till it was almost like a pain To listen when the next would be. SONG. TO M. L. A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first, By morning, and noontide, and evening | As if thy natal stars were flowers nursed: That shook their seeds round thee on earth. And thou, to lull thine infant rest, Thine every fancy seems to borrow A hope-lit rainbow out of tears, Thy heart is certain of to-morrow, Though 'yond to-day it never peers. I would more natures were like thine, THE FOUNTAIN. INTO the sunshine, Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow! Into the starlight Rushing in spray, Happy at midnight, Happy by day! Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery, Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary :— Glad of all weathers, Still seeming best, Upward or downward, Motion thy rest;· Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same; — |