But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine,

And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign.

VII.

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels

call;

It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;

The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,

And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

VIII.

For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie

dear;

I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here;

With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned,

And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind.

IX.

I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed,

And then did something speak to me--I know not what was said;

For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind,

And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

X.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them; it's mine.

And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.

And once again it came, and close beside th window-bars,

Then seemed to go right up to heaven and die among the stars.

XI.

So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know

The blessed music went that way my soul will have

to go.

And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day, But, Effie, you must comfort her when I am past

away.

XII.

And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret;

There's many worthier than I would make him happy yet.

If I had lived-I cannot tell-I might have been his wife;

But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire of life.

XIII.

O look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in

a glow;

He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them 1

know.

And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine

Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine.

XIV.

O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done

The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the

sun

Forever and forever with those just souls and trueAnd what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado?

XV.

Forever and forever, all in a blessed home

And there to wait a little while till you and Effie

come

To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast

And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

THE LOTOS-EATERS.

I.

"COURAGE!" he said, and pointed toward the land;

“This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.” In the afternoon they came unto a land,

In which it seemed always afternoon.

All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.

II.

A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some through wavering lights and shadows
broke

Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow

From the inner land: far-off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,

Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery

drops,

Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

III.

The charmed sunset lingered low adown

In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seemed the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

IV.

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

V.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more;
And all at once they sang, " Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.”

CHORIC SONG.

1.

There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies

Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.

Here are cool mosses deep,

And through the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

2.

Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
We only toil, who are the first of things,
And make perpetual moan,

Still from one sorrow to another thrown :

Nor ever fold our wings,

And cease from wanderings,

Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;

Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,

"There is no joy but calm!"

Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?

3.

Lo! in the middle of the wood,,

The folded leaf is wooed from out the bud
With winds upon the branch, and there
Grows green and broad, and takes no care,