« PreviousContinue »
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, And worshipp’st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
SONG TO THE EVENING STAR Star that bringest home the bee, And sett’st the weary labourer free! If any star shed peace, 'tis Thou
That send'st it from above,
Are sweet as hers we love.
And songs when toil is done,
Curls yellow in the sun.
Of thrilling vows thou art,
DATUR HORA QUIETI
The wild birds hush their song,
Yet Leonard tarries long.
From home and love divide,
Each to the loved one's side.
The noble dame, on turret high,
Who waits her gallant knight,
The Aash of armour bright.
The level ray to shade,
For Colin's darkening plaid.
By day they swam apart,
The hind beside the hait.
Twitters his closing song-
Sir W. Scott
TO THE MOON
Art thou pale for weariness
P. B. Shelley
TO SLEEP A 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 yet do 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,
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,
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. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
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 : 'Twas Autumn,--and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I few 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
A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN
I 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. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearld Arcturi of the earth, The constellated Aower that never sets ;
Faint oxlips ; tender blue-bells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drain’d not by the day ; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray ; And flowers azure, black, and streak’d with gold, Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold. And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag flowers, purple prank'd with
white, And starry river-buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprison’d children of the Hours
Within my hand, -and then, elate and gay, I hasten’d to the spot whence I had come That I might there present it-O ! to Whom?
P. B. Shelley
Down to a sunless sea.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted