Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her without hope of change, In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said; I would that I were dead!” About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, And o'er it many, round and small, The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver-green with gnarled bark : She only said, "My life is dreary, And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up and away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, "The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creak'd ; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, Or from the crevice peer'd about. Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors, She only said, "My life is dreary, The sparrow's chirrup on the roof, The poplar made, did all confound ΤΟ 1. CLEAR-HEADED friend, whose joyful scorn, Ray-fringed eyelids of the morn Roof not a glance so keen as thine: 2. Low-cowering shall the Sophist sit; Falsehood shall bare her plaited brow: A gentler death shall Falsehood die, Weak Truth a-leaning on her crutch, Wan, wasted Truth in her utmost need, Until she be an athlete bold, And weary with a finger's touch Those writhed limbs of lightning speed; Like that strange angel which of old, Until the breaking of the light, Wrestled with wandering Israel, Past Yabbok brook the livelong night, MADELINE. 1. THOU art not steep'd in golden languors, Thro' light and shadow thou dost range, Delicious spites and darling angers, 2. Smiling, frowning, evermore, Of wealthy smiles: but who may know Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow Thy smile and frown are not aloof From one another, Each to each is dearest brother; Hues of the silken sheeny woof 3. A subtle, sudden flame, By veering passion fann'd, About thee breaks and dances; O'erflows thy calmer glances, But when I turn away, Thou, willing me to stay, Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest ; SONG. THE OWL. 1. WHEN cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, 2. When merry milkmaids click the latch, Twice or thrice his roundelay; Alone and warming his five wits, SECOND SONG. TO THE SAME. 1. THY tuwhits are lull'd I wot, That her voice untuneful grown, 2. I would mock thy chant anew; Thee to woo to thy tuwhit, With a lengthen❜d loud halloo, RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow'd back with me, The forward-flowing tide of time; |