But this I know, when thou art fled, Where'er they lay these limbs, this head, As all that then remains of me. O whither, whither dost thou fly, Where bend unseen thy trackless course, Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I? From whence thy essence came, Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed Wait, like some spell-bound knight, Through blank oblivious years the appointed hour To break thy trance and reassume thy power? Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-morning. Anna Lætitia Barbauld. CCXCI. THE GREEN LINNET. BENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed Và must sunshine round me spread ICS SHEster i nocks how sweet Jad lowers and aris once more to greet, user remis gether! མེ་ ཡིན་མི་ སེམ ོ་སེན་ སེ ཅན ཙ མ པ ཅ As if by that exulting strain He mock'd and treated with disdain W. Wordsworth. CCXCII. BONNIE LESLIE. O SAW ye bonnie Lesley As she gaed o'er the border ? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For Nature made her what she is, Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. The Deil he could na scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee; And say "I canna wrang thee!" The Powers aboon will tent thee; Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie ! CCXCIV. UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE EARTH has not anything to show more fair: The beauty of the morning: silent, bare, Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; W. Wordsworth. CCXCV. THE BANKS OF DOON. YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true. |