The flowers would faint at your cruel cheer. In your eye there is death, There is frost in your breath Which would blight the plants. Where you stand you cannot hear From the groves within The wild-bird's din. In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants, Like sheet-lightning, Ever brightening With a low melodious thunder; All day and all night it is ever drawn It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it; your ears are so dull; So keep where you are: you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in. SLOW sail'd the weary mariners and saw, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore ? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls: From wandering over the lea: Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea: O hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me: Hither, come hither and frolic and play; Here it is only the mew that wails; For here are the blissful downs and dales, And the spangle dances in bight and bay, And the rainbow forms and flies on the land Over the islands free; And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand; Hither, come hither and see; And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave, And sweet is the color of cove and cave, And sweet shall your welcome be: O hither, come hither, and be our lords, For merry brides are we : We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words: With pleasure and love and jubilee: O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords Who can light on as happy a shore All the world o'er, all the world o'er? Whither away? listen and stay: mariner, mariner, fly no more. THE DESERTED HOUSE. LIFE and Thought have gone away Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they! All within is dark as night: And no murmur at the door, Close the door, the shutters close, Or thro' the windows we shall see Of the dark deserted house. Come away: no more of mirth Is here or merry-making sound. Come away for Life and Thought A great and distant city A mansion incorruptible. have bought Would they could have stayed with us! THE DYING SWAN. THE plain was grassy, wild, and bare, An under-roof of doleful gray. It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on, And took the reed-tops as it went. Some blue peaks in the distance rose, One willow over the river wept, Chasing itself at its own wild will, Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow. The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold, And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'a Thro' the open gates of the city afar, To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star. And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, A DIRGE. Now is done thy long day's work ; Shadows of the silver birk Sweep the green that folds thy grave. Thee nor carketh care nor slander; Light and shadow ever wander Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed; Let them rave. Thou wilt never raise thine head Crocodiles wept tears for thee; Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear. Rain makes music in the tree O'er the green that folds thy grave. |