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And yet so soft, so sweet, so low,
It had not more of joy than woe;
And as the sea doth oft lie still,

Making its waters meet,
As if by an unconscious will,

For the moon's silver feet,
So lay my soul within mine eyes
When thou, its guardian moon, didst rise.
And now, howe'er its wares above

May toss and seem uneaseful,
One strong, eternal law of Love,

With guidance sure and peaceful,
As calm and natural as breath,
Moves its great deeps through life and death.


TJICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast

Of bisons the far prairie shaking,
The notes crowd heavily and fast
As surfs, one plunging while the last

Draws seaward from its foamy breaking.
Or in low murmurs they began,

Rising and rising momently,
As o'er a harp Æolian
A fitful breeze, until they ran

Up to a sudden ecstasy.
And then, like minute drops of rain

Ringing in water silverly,
They lingering dropped and dropped again,
Till it was almost like a pain
To listen when the next would be.


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A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first,

A lily-bud not opened quite,

That hourly grew more pure and white,
By morning, and noontide, and evening nursed :
In all of nature thou hadst thy share;

Thou wast waited on

By the wind and sun;
The rain and the dew for thee took care ;
It seemed thou never couldst be more fair,

A lily thou wast when I saw thee first,

A lily-bud; but , how strange,

How full of wonder was the change, When, ripe with all sweetness, thy full bloom burst! How did the tears to my glad eyes start,

When the woman-flower

Reached its blossoming hour,
And I saw the warm deeps of thy golden heart!
Glad death may pluck thee, but never before

The gold dust of thy bloom divine

Hath dropped from thy heart into mine,
To quicken its faint germs of heavenly lore;
For no breeze comes nigh thee but carries away

Some impulses bright

Of fragrance and light,
Which fall upon souls that are lone and astray,
To plant fruitful hopes of the flower of day.


I would more natures were like thina,

That never casts a glance before,.--Thou Hebe, who thy heart's bright wine

So lavishly to all dost pour, That we who drink forget to pine,

And can but dream of bliss in store. Thou canst not see a shade in life ;

With sunward instinct thou dost rise,
And, leaving clouds below at strife,

Gazest undazzled at the skies,
With all their blazing splendours rife,

A songful lark with eagle's eyes.
Thou wast some foundling whom the Hours,

Nursed, laughing, with the milk of Mirth
Some influence more gay than ours

Hath ruled thy nature from its birth, As if thy natal stars were flowers

That shook their seeds round thee on earth. And thou, to lull thine infant rest,

Wast cradled like an Indian child ; All pleasant winds from south and west

With lullabies thine ears beguiled, Rocking thee in thine oriole's nest,

Till Nature looked at thee and smiled

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Thine every fancy seems to borrow

A sunlight from thy childish years, Making a golden cloud of sorrow,

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,

So innocently wild and free,
Whose sad thoughts, even, leap and shine,

Like sunny wavelets in the sea,
Making us mindless of the brine,

In gazing on the brilliancy.


Into the sunshine,

Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing

From morn till night!
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;-
Ceaseless aspiring,

Ceaseless content,
Darkness or sunshine

Thy element;


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Into the moonlight,

Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow.—THE FOUNTAIN.

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