TO ONE IN PARADISE.

THOU wast that all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

But to be overcast !

A voice from out the Future cries,

"On! on !"-but o'er the Past

(Dim gulf !) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of Life is o'er !

"No more-no more-no more

(Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree

Or the stricken eagle soar !

And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.

THE VALLEY OF UNREST.

Once it smiled a silent dell

Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless-
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.

Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!

Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,

Over the violets there that lie

In myriad types of the human eye-
Over the lilies there that wave

And weep above a nameless grave!

They wave-from out their fragrant tops

Eternal dews come down in drops.

They weep from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems.

THE CITY IN THE SEA.

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne

In a strange city lying alone

Far down within the dim West,

Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best

Have gone to their eternal rest.

There shrines and palaces and towers

(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)

Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

No

rays

from the holy heaven come down

On the long night-time of that town ;