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Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard
And songs when toil is done, From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd
Curls yellow in the sun.
Star of love's soft interviews,
Of thrilling vows thou art,
DATUR HORA QUIETI
'HE sun upon the lake is low,
The wild birds hush their song, The hills have evening's deepest glow,
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, Looks to the western beam to spy
The flash of armour bright.
The level ray to shade,
For Colin's darkening plaid.
Now to their mates the wild swans row,
By day they swam apart,
The hind beside the hart.
Twitters his closing song -
Sir W. Scott
TO THE MOON
RT thou pale for
A Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
P. B. Shelley
WIDOW bird sate mourning for her Love
Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound.
P. B. Shelley
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 still I lie
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM
UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud hal
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 : ’T was Autumn, - and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew 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
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 flower that never sets ;
Faint ox-lips; 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
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Within my hand, — and then, elate and gay,
P. B. Shelley