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Hush! Still as death,
The tempest holds his breath As from a sudden will; The rain stopsshort, but from the eaves You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves,
All is so bodingly still;
Again, now, now, again
Plashes the rain in heavy gouts,
Again the thunder shouts
One quivering flash,
Followed by silence dead and dull,
To whelm the earth in one mad over
And then a total lull.
Gone, gone, so soon!
No more my half-crazed fancy there Can shape a giant in the air, No more I see his streaming hair, The writhing portent of his form; The pale and quiet moon
Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.
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
Every sad and happy feeling,
Clear and low;
All thy smiles and all thy tears
And sweetness, wove of joy and woe,
It hath caught a touch of sadness,
It hath tones of clearest gladness,
A dim, sweet twilight voice it is
Thy voice is like a fountain
Thine is music such as yields
The green, bright grass of childhood bring to me,
Flowing like an emerald river,
The joy, that, like a clear breeze,
Through and through the old time!
Peace sits within thine eyes, With white hands crossed in joyful rest,
While, through thy lips and face
The melodies from out thy breast;
The beauty which the summer time
That filled thy soul with joyous dread,
Yea, every holy influence,
Flowing to thee, thou knewest not whence,
In thine eyes to-day is seen,
Whatever led thy childish feet,
Thy voice is like a fountain,
When the moon behind the mountain
Through every rift it foamed in vain,
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,
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 waves above
With guidance sure and peaceful,
THICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast
Or in low murmurs they began,
And then, like minute-drops of rain
A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first,
By morning, and noontide, and evening nursed:
In all of nature thou hadst thy share;
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 O, 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.
Thou Hebe, who thy heart's bright wine
And can but dream of bliss in store.
Thou canst not see a shade in life;
Thou wast some foundling whom the
Nursed, laughing, with the milk of
Some influence more gay than ours
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.
Thine every fancy seems to borrow
Though 'yond to-day it never peers.
I would more natures were like thine,
Like sunny wavelets in the sea,
THE FOUNTAIN. INTO the sunshine, Full of the light, Leaping and flashing From morn till night!
Into the moonlight,
Whiter than snow,