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The treasured dreams of times long past,
'If care with freezing years should come
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
That earth has something yet to show,
ND is this-Yarrow?- This the Stream
Of which my fancy cherish'd,
So faithfully, a waking dream,
An image that hath perish'd?
O that some minstrel's harp were near
To utter notes of gladness
And chase this silence from the air,
Yet why? - a silvery current flows
For not a feature of those hills
Is in the mirror slighted.
A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow Vale,
Mild dawn of promise! that excludes
Though not unwilling here to admit
Where was it that the famous Flower
Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding?
His bed perchance was yon smooth mound
On which the herd is feeding :
Delicious is the Lay that sings
The path that leads them to the grove,
The leafy grove that covers :
And pity sanctifies the verse
That paints, by strength of sorrow,
The unconquerable strength of love ;
Bear witness, rueful Yarrow !
But thou that didst appear so fair
To fond imagination
Dost rival in the light of day
Her delicate creation :
Meek loveliness is round thee spread,
The grace of forest charms decay'd,
And pastoral melancholy.
That region left, the vale unfolds
Rich groves of lofty stature,
With Yarrow winding through the pomp
Of cultivated Nature;
And rising from those lofty groves
Behold a ruin hoary,
The shatter'd front of Newark's Towers, Renown'd in Border story.
Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,
For manhood to enjoy his strength,
Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,
Of studious ease and generous cares,
How sweet on this autumnal day
- but not by sight alone
TO THE DAISY
TH litttle here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Thou unassuming commonplace
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
And many a fond and idle name
A nun demure, of lowly port;
Of all temptations;
A queen in crown of rubies drest ;
A starveling in a scanty vest;
A little Cyclops, with one eye
That thought comes next
The freak is over,
The shape will vanish, and behold!
I see thee glittering from afar-
In heaven above thee!
Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last
I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
That breath'st with me in sun and air,
Of thy meek nature !
ODE TO AUTUMN
EASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Sesso Voof miste na or the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;