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Then came the Autumn, all in yellow clad,
As though he joyed in his plenteous store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banish'd hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore;
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrolled,
With ears of corn of every sort, he bore,
And in his hand a sickle he did hold

To reap the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.

Lastly came Winter, clothed all in frieze,
Clattering his teeth for cold that did him chill,
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze,
And the dull drops that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distil;

In his right hand a tipped staff he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still,
For he was faint with cold and weak with eld,
That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to weld.

Brilliants.

MORNING.

And so he kept, until the rosy veils

Mantling the east, by Aurora's peering hand
Were lifted from the water's breast, and fann'd
Into sweet air; and sober'd morning came
Meekly through billows.

KEATS.

A TENDER VOICE.

Her voice is soft; not shrill and like the lark's,
But tenderer,-graver,—almost hoarse at times!
As though the earnestness of love prevailed,

And quelled all shriller music.

BARRY CORNWALL.

FLOWERS.

We have left, behind us,

The riches of the meadows,-and now come
To visit the virgin Primrose where she dwells,
'Midst harebells and the wild-wood hyacinths,
'Tis here she keeps her court. Dost see yon bank
The sun is kissing? Near,-go near! for there

('Neath those broad leaves, amidst yon straggling grasses), Immaculate odours from the violet

Spring up for ever! Like sweet thoughts that come
Winged from the maiden fancy, and fly off
In music to the skies, and there are lost,
These ever-steaming odours seek the sun,
And fade in the light he scatters.

AFFECTION.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted:
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of
refreshment;

That which the fountain sheds forth returns again to the fountain.

Patience accomplish thy labour: accomplish thy work of affection!

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is

Godlike.

LONGFELLOW.

A DULL DAY.

For lo! the poppies hung

Dew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sung

A heavy ditty, and the sullen day

Had chidden herald Hesperus away,

With leaden looks: the solitary breeze

Bluster'd, and slept, and its wild self did tease
With wayward melancholy.

BATTLES.

Then all bad Passions mingled in the strife:
Hate, with clos'd lips and cold unaltered eye,
Defied his enemy: Black Revenge rushed forth;

KEATS.

And Envy with his hidden knife came on,
Stealing behind his prey. This way and that,
(Scared by the trumpet or the sullen drum)

Fled Beauty, mocked by Vice; and helpless Age;
And timorous Youth; whilst Murder, with hot eyes,
Spent breath, and staggering through the slippery streets,
Paused for a while, and with red dripping fingers

Wiped from his sweating brow his cloud of hair,
And reckoned his harvest 'round.

LETTERS.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid:

They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires.
The virgin's wish, without her fears, impart :
Excuse the blush and pour out all the heart:
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.

LIBERTY.

Oh! give me liberty!

For were ev'n Paradise my prison

Still I should long to leap the crystal walls.

SPEED.

Joyous all follow'd, as the leader call'd,
Down marble steps; pouring as easily

POPE.

DRYDEN.

As hour-glass sand-and fast, as you might see
Swallows obeying the south summer's call,
Or swans upon a gentle waterfall.

LOVE.

KEATS.

The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns:
The current that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hinder'd,

He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.

SHAKSPERE.

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Ty street

S

Spires

POPE

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