Now to their mates the wild swans row, The hind beside the hart. The woodlark at his partner's side All meet whom day and care divide, Sir W. Scott CCLXIV TO THE MOON RT thou pale for weariness A of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy? P. B. Shelley CCLXV WIDOW bird sate mourning for her Love A WIDOW wind sate mou 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 A CCLXVI TO SLEEP FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees 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, Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? O CCLXVII THE SOLDIER'S DREAM UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had 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 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, 'Stay-stay with us!-rest! worn!' -thou art weary and And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. T. Campbell I CCLXVIII 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 pearl'd 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 any waken'd eyes behold. And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way M CCLXIX THE INNER VISION OST sweet it is with unuplifted eyes To pace the ground, if path there be or none, While a fair region round the Traveller lies Which he forbears again to look upon; Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene If Thought and Love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: With Thought and Love companions of our way Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews CCLXX W. Wordsworth THE REALM OF FANCY VER let the Fancy roam! : At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth ;! Then let wingéd Fancy wander Through the thought still spread beyond her : Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar. |