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Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this,

Against His messengers to shut the door?

A DAY OF SUNSHINE.

O GIFT of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play

Whereon it is enough for me,
Not to be doing, but to be!

Through every fibre of my brain, Through every nerve, through every vein,

I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that seems almost too much.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
And over me unrolls on high
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where through a sapphire sea, the

sun

Sails like a golden galleon,

Towards yonder cloud-lands in the west,

Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
Whose steep sierra far uplifts
Its craggy summits white with drifts.
Blow, winds! and waft through all
the rooms
The

snow-flakes of the cherry-
blooms!

Blow, winds! and bend within my reach

The fiery blossoms of the peach!

O Life and Love! O happy throng Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!

O heart of man! canst thou not be
Blithe as the air is, and as free?

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TO LUCASTA, ON GOING BEYOND | Can speak like spirits unconfined

THE SEAS.

IF to be absent were to be

Away from thee;

Or that when I am gone
You or I were alone;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.

Though seas and land betwixt us both,

Our faith and troth,
Like separated souls,

All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meet Unseen, unknown, and greet as angels greet.

So then we do anticipate
Our after-fate,

And are alive in the skies,
If thus our lips and eyes

In heaven, their earthly bodies left behind.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE
WARS.

TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore,

I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.

SAMUEL

OH! WATCH YOU WELL BY DAY

LIGHT.

On! watch you well by daylight,
By daylight may you fear,
But keep no watch in darkness -
The angels then are near;
For Heaven the sense bestoweth,
Our waking life to keep,
But tender mercy showeth,

To guard us in our sleep.
Then watch you well by daylight.
By daylight may you fear,
But keep no watch in darkness-
The angels then are near.

Oh! watch you well in pleasure-
For pleasure oft betrays,
But keep no watch in sorrow,

When joy withdraws its rays: For in the hour of sorrow,

As in the darkness drear,
To Heaven entrust the morrow.
For the angels then are near.
O watch you well by daylight,
By daylight may you fear,
But keep no watch in darkness-
The angels then are near.

THE CHILD AND THE AUTUMN
LEAF.

Down by the river's bank I strayed
Upon an autumn day;
Beside the fading forest there,
I saw a child at play.

She played among the yellow leaves-
The leaves that once were green,
And flung upon the passing stream
What once had blooming been:
Oh! deeply did it touch my heart
To see that child at play;
It was the sweet unconscious sport
Of childhood with decay.

Fair child, if by this stream you stray,

When after years go by,

The scene that makes thy childhood's sport,

May wake thy age's sigh:

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SIGHS.

YIELD NOT, THOU SAD ONE, TO But the breeze, ere it ruffled the deep, Pervading the odorous bowers, Awaken'd the flowers from their sleep,

OH! yield not, thou sad one, to sighs.

Nor murmur at Destiny's will. Behold, for each pleasure that flies, Another replacing it still. Time's wing, were it all of onefeather, Far slower would be in its flight: The storm gives a charm to fine weather,

And day would seem dark without night.

Then yield not, thou sad one, to sighs.

When we look on some lake that repeats

The loveliness bounding its shore, A breeze o'er the soft surface fleets, And the mirror-like beauty is o'er.

And wafted their sweets to be ours. Then yield not, thou sad one, to sighs.

Oh, blame not the change nor the flight

Of our joys as they're passing away, 'Tis the swiftness and change give delight [stay. They would pall if permitted to More gaily they glitter in flying,

They perish in lustre still bright, Like the hues of the dolphin, in dying,

Or the humming-bird's wing in its flight.

Then yield not, thou sad one, to sighs.

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