As woodbine's fragile hold, Or when I feel about my feet

The berried briony fold."

O muille round thy knees with fern,
And shadow Suinner-chace!
Long may thy topmost branch discern
The roofs of Sumner-place!

But tell me, did she read the name
I carved with many vows
When last with throbbing heart I came
To rest beneath thy boughs?
"O yes, she wander'd round and round
These knotted knees of mine,
And four, and kiss'd the name she
found,

And sweetly murmur'd thine.
"A teardrop trembled from its source
And down my surface erept.
My sense of touch is something coarse,
But I believe she wept.

"Then flush'd her cheek with rosy light,
She glanced across the plain;
But not a creature was in sight:
She kiss'd me once again.
"Her kisses were so close and kind,
That, trust me on my word,
Hard wood I am, and wrinkled rind,
But yet my sap was stirr'd:
"And even into my inmost ring
A pleasure I discern'd,

Like those blind motions of the Spring,
That show the year is turn'd.
"Thrice-happy he that may caress
The ringlet's waving balm-

The cushions of whose touch may press
The maiden's tender palm.

❝I, rooted here among the groves,
But languidly adjust

My vapid vegetable loves

With anthers and with dust:

"For ah! my friend, the days were brief

Whereof the poets talk,

When that, which breathes within the

O flourish high, with leafy towers,
And overlook the lea,
Pursue thy loves among the bowers,
But leave thou mine to me.

O flourish, hidden deep in fern,
Old oak, I love thee well;

A thousand thanks for what I learn
And what remains to tell.

""Tis little more: the day was warm;
At last, tired out with play,
She sank her head upon her arm
And at my feet she lay.

"Her eyelids dropp'd their silken

eaves.

I breathed upon her eyes Thro' all the summer of my leaves A welcome mix'd with sighs. "I took the swarming sound of lifeThe music from the townThe murmurs of the drum and tife And lull'd them in my own. "Sometimes I let a sunbeam slip, To light her shaded eye; A second flutter'd round her lip Like a golden butterfly;

"A third would glimmer on her neck To make the necklac shine; Another slid, a sunny fleck,

From head to ankle fine.

"Then close and dark my arms spread,

And shadow'd all her restDropt dows upon her golden head, An acorn in her breast.

"But in a pet she started up,

And pluck'd it out, and drew
My little oakling from the cup,
And flung him in the dew.
"And yet it was a graceful gift—
I felt a pang within

As when I see the woodman lift
His axe to slay my kin.

"I shook him down because he was
The finest on the tree.

He lies beside thee on the grass,
O kiss him once for me.

"O kiss him twice and thrice for me, That have no lips to his,

For never yet was oak on lea
Shall grow so fair as this."

Step deeper yet in herb and fern,
Look further thro' the chace,
Spread upward till thy boughs discern
The front of Sumner-place.

This fruit of thine by Love is blest,
That but a moment lay

Where fairer fruit of Love may rest
Some happy future day.

I kiss it twice, I kiss it thrice,
The warmth it thence shall win
To riper life may magnetize
The baby-oak within.

But thou, while kingdoms overset
Or lapse from hand to hand,

Thy leaf shall never fail, nor yet
Thine acorn in the land.
May never saw dismember thee,
Nor wielded axe disjoint,
That art the fairest-spoken tree
From here to Lizard-point.
O rock upon thy towery top

All throats that gurgle sweet!
All starry culmination drop

Balm-dews to bathe thy feet!
All grass of silky feather grow—
And while he sinks or swells
The full south breeze around thee blow
The sound of minster bells.

The fat earth feed thy branchy root,
That under deeply strikes!

The northern morning o'er thee shoot,
High up, in silver spikes!

Nor ever lightning char thy grain,
But, rolling as in sleep,

Low thunders bring the mellow rain,
That makes thee broad and deep!'

And hear me swear a solemn oath,
That only by thy side

Will I to Olive plight my troth,

And gain her for my bride.

And when my marriage morn may fall, She, Dryad-like, shall wear Alternate leaf and acorn-ball

In wreath about her hair.

And I will work in prose and rhyme,
And praise thee more in both
Than bard has honor'd beech or lime,
Or that Thessalian growth,

In which the swarthy ringdove sat,
And mystic sentence spoke ;
And more than England honors that,
Thy famous brother-oak,

Wherein the younger Charles abode
Till all the paths were dim,
And far below the Roundhead rode,
And humm'd a surly hymn.

LOVE AND DUTY.

Of love that never found his earthly close,

What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts?

Or all the same as if he had not been? Not so. Shall Error in the round of

time

Still father Truth? O shall the braggart shout

For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself

Thro' madness, hated by the wise, to

law

System and empire ? Sin itself be found

The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun?

And only he, this wonder, dead, be

come

Mere highway dust? or year by year alone

Art more thro' Love, and greater than thy years.

The Sun wiil run his orbit, and the Moon

Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring

The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit

Of wisdom. Wait: my faith is large in Time,

And that which shapes it to some perfect end.

Will some one say, Then why not ill for good?

Why took ye not your pastime? To that man

My work shall answer, since I knew the right

And did it for a man is not as God, But then most Godlike being most a

man.

-So let me think 'tis well for theo and me

Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow

To feel it! For how hard it seem'd to me,

When eyes, love-languid thro' halftears, would dwell

One earnest, earnest moment upon mine,

Then not to dare to see! when thy low voice,

Faltering, would break its syllables, to

keep

My own full-tuned,- hold passion in a leash.

And not leap forth and fall about thy neck.

And on thy bosom, (deep-desired relief!)

Rain out the heavy mist of tears, that weigh'd

Upon my brain, my senses and my soul!

For love himself took part against himself

To warn us off, and Duty loved of Love

O this world's curse, beloved but hated-came

Like Death betwixt thy dear embrace and mine,

And crying, "Who is this? behold thy bride,"

As flow but once a life.

The trance gave way To those caresses, when a hundred times

In that last kiss, which never was the last,

Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died.

Then follow'd counsel, comfort, and the words

That make a man feel strong in speaking truth;

Till now the dark was worn, and overhead

The lights of sunset and of sunrise mix'd

In that brief night; the summer night, that paused

Among her stars to hear us; stars that hung

Love-charm'd to listen: all the wheels of Time

Spun round in station, but the end had come.

O then like those, who clench their nerves to rush

Upon their dissolution, we two rose, There closing like an individual life

In one wild cry of passion and of pain, Like bitter accusation ev'n to death, Caught up the whole of love and utter'd it,

And bade adíeu for ever.

Like truths of Science waiting to be caught

Catch me who can, and make the catcher crown'd

Are taken by the forelock. Let it

be.

But if you care indeed to listen, hear These measured words, my work of yestermorn.

"We sleep and wake and sleep, but

all things move;

The Sun flies forward to his brother

Sun;

The dark Earth follows wheel'd in her ellipse ;