ΤΟ I. THE bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds, Are lips-and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words. Thine II. eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined Then desolately fall, O God! on my funereal mind Like starlight on a pall III. Thy heart-thy heart!-I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy Of the baubles that it may. A DREAM. I. IN visions of the dark night I have dream'd of joy departedBut a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. II. Ah! what is not a dream by day III. That holy dream-that holy dream, A lonely spirit guiding. IV. What though that light, through storm and night, So trembled from afar What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star? IN spring of youth it was my lot Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, II. But when the night had thrown her pall And the mystic wind went by Then-ah then I would awake To the terror of the lone lake. III. Yet that terror was not fright, A feeling not the jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define — Nor Love-although the Love were thine. IV. Death was in that poisonous wave, For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake. ROMANCE. ROMANCE, who loves to nod and sing, Hath been a most familiar bird- Of late, eternal Condor years |