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ON THE SEA.
T keeps eternal whisperings around
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds of heaven were unbound. O ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea ; O ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody, Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!
ON LEIGH HUNT'S POEM, THE “STORY OF
HO loves to peer up at the morning sun,
Let him, with this sweet tale, full often seek
let him lowly speak These numbers to the night, and starlight meek, Or moon, if that her hunting be begun. He who knows these delights, and too is prone
To moralize upon a smile or tear,
A bower for his spirit, and will steer
Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.
HEN I have fears that I may cease to be
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr’d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance ; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour !
That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love! then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
TANDING aloof in giant ignorance,
As one who sits ashore and longs perchance
For Jove uncurtain’d Heaven to let thee live, And Neptune made for thee a spermy tent,
And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive; Aye, on the shores of darkness there is light,
And precipices show untrodden green; There is a budding morrow in midnight ;
There is a triple sight in blindness keen : Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befell To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.
ANSWER TO A SONNET ENDING THUS :
“Dark eyes are dearer far
By J. H. REYNOLDS.
LUE! 'Tis the life of heaven, -- the domain
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,
And all its vassal streams : pools numberless May range, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness. Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers Forget-me-not, the blue-bell, and, that queen
Of secrecy, the violet : what strange powers Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!