This breathing house not built with hands, That fear no spite of wind or tide ! Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; O! the joys, that came down shower-like, Ere I was old. Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere, Which tells me, Youth's no longer here! Dew-drops are the gems of morning, That only serves to make us grieve Like some poor nigh-related guest, Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while, A DAY DREAM. My eyes make pictures, when they are shut : I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruined hut, And thee, and me and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow. A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree: And lo! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: 'Twas day! But now few, large, and bright The stars are round the crescent moon! And now it is a dark warm night, The balmiest of the month of June! A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting O ever-ever be thou blest! For dearly, Asra, love I thee! This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss-ah me! Fount, tree, and shed are gone, I know not whither, The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all! And now they melt to one deep shade! But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee! Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play 'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! But let me check this tender lay Which none may hear but she and thou! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women! FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE. O FAIR is Love's first hope to gentle mind! NAMES. I ASKED my fair one happy day, By what sweet name from Rome or Greece; Lalage, Neæra, Chloris, Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris, Arethusa or Lucrece. WHERE true Love burns Desire is Love's pure * See Lessing's Lieder. Die Namen. flame: LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE. HER attachment may differ from yours in degree, But Friendship how tender so ever it be Gives no accord to Love, however refin'd. Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing, If you can not lift hers up to your state of feeling, NOT AT HOME. THAT Jealousy may rule a mind She has a strange cast in her ee, Ask for her and she'll be denied :- TO A LADY, OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN HAVE NO SOULS. NAY, dearest Anna! why so grave? I said, you had no soul, 'tis true! For what you are, you can not have : 'Tis I, that have one since I first had you! I HAVE heard of reasons manifold What outward form and feature are He seeth with the heart. LINES SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope Soon shall I now before my God appear, REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE. Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, All are not strong alike through storms to steer Right onward. What? though dread of threaten'd death And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath Inconstant to the truth within thy heart? That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start, Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, Or not so vital as to claim thy life: And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own, |