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!

Sir W. Scott

CCLXIV

TO THE MOON

RT thou pale for weariness

Aof climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,

Wandering companionless

Among the stars that have a different birth,

And ever-changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

P. B. Shelley

A

CCLXV

WIDOW bird sate mourning for her Love

Upon a wintry bough;

The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel's sound.

P. B. Shelley

A

CCLXVI

TO SLEEP

FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by

One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky ;

I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first utter'd from my orchard trees,
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:
So do not let me wear to-night away:

Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
W. Wordsworth

CCLXVII

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM

UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,

O°

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw ; And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array
Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track :
'T was Autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part;

My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.

'Stay stay with us!-rest!-thou art weary and worn!'.

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. T. Campbell

I

CCLXVIII

A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN

DREAM'D that as I wander'd by the way

Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,

And gentle odours led my steps astray,

Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream.

A ray of Fancy still survives —
Her sunshine plays upon thee!
Thy ever-youthful waters keep
A course of lively pleasure;

And gladsome notes my lips can breathe
Accordant to the measure.

The vapours linger round the heights,
They melt, and soon must vanish;
One hour is theirs, nor more is mine-
Sad thought! which I would banish,
But that I know, where'er I go,
Thy genuine image, Yarrow!
Will dwell with me, to heighten joy

And cheer my mind in sorrow.

W. Wordsworth

CCLIX

THE INVITATION

EST and Brightest, come away,

BEST and Bhan this car day,

Which, like thee, to those in sorrow
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.

The brightest hour of unborn Spring
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon morn
To hoar February born;

Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
It kiss'd the forehead of the earth,

And smiled upon the silent sea,

And bade the frozen streams be free,

And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May

Strew'd flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, Dear.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs -
To the silent wilderness

Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.

Radiant Sister of the Day
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green, and ivy dun,
Round stems that never kiss the sun,
Where the lawns and pastures be
And the sand-hills of the sea,
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers and violets
Which yet join not scent to hue
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dim and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,

And the multitudinous