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Father," he cried, "for that of thy fair will

Me thou hast set in this bright world to reign,
I thank and praise thee; and hast deigned to fill
All life with beauty, both the wide champaign
Now swept with sunlight and now fed with rain,
And the low shadowy hollows of the hills,

And the fair sweep of the unrestful main,
And all the flowers, and melody of sweet rills,——
O with full heart, good king, I joy to raise
My arms to heaven in deep and blissful praise.

"Soft comes the wind, soft on my cheek to woo, Slow through the light the clouds, heaven's large thoughts, move,

The tall trees kiss the sky, violets are blue

Under my feet, around me fearless rove
Beautiful deer, beneath me and above

Fair forms are wrapped in colours infinite,

My own heart is the depthless heart of love, And thou hast made the world glad in my sight: Ah! bounteous giver, to have so inwound

The soul of love with lovely works around.

"No pain is here, for pain has passed away, The Titans sleep beneath their craggy bed; Could pain be rife on so serene a day?

I know the weird woods must their honours shed, And the green grave must hour by hour be fed, But I die not, I am for evermore ;

And then, how blissfully repose things dead!— They dream upon the wide world's infinite floor, The storms trouble them not, nor the sky's tears, Nor the cold finger of the creeping years.

"My heart is but one flower of all this world Of blossoms upward looking at the sun;

My thoughts are like a stream whose flood has purled Quietly in a dell since time begun ;

Through hive-like towns and rustic fields I run,

And fit my darts upon the straining string,

Strike beating hearts and watch the merry fun,
Then off with quick foot or soft-moving wing
To find new prey, or sleep on Venus' knee
Under the cool vault of a shadowy tree.

"Happy is every earthly thing that moves;
Trees, buds, even falling leaves, are happy all:
Most happy that, or high or low, which loves
And moves towards a kindred life. The call
Of mating birds in May, keen to forestall.
The settled summer's heat with settled joy,
The old-world tales which never never pall
Of timorous maiden and pursuing boy-
These be true music, and on these I thrive,
Born on such immaterial food to live.

"Mine is the earth, its pleasant ways mine are,
The secret of the haunting subtle charm
Of spring-tide copses, soul of every star
Which earthward bends a yearning brow on warm
Rich-scented nights, am I ;-with light alarm
I speed my shafts, and all this blossoming

Of legion-headed life pays their quick harm,
This wealth, this hope, this birth, this bliss, this spring,
This fount of being which from every pore

Of old earth sunward wells for evermore.

"At peace with nature and with my own soul !
Lie there, my bow, and let me sleep awhile,
The nightingale shall chant me her rich dole,
And I will think upon my mother's smile
And so sink off. Come, visions, to beguile

My joy-tired being, come with rustling wings
Before me in a long enchanted file,

They come! I slip into the life of things,

My boat has lost her moorings in the stream

And dreaming woodlands grow the fabric of a dream.

BERTRAM.

DEAR Bertram ! child of earth! faun of the field!
Nursling of nature, whom some fairy bore

From mystic woodland dingle unrevealed
And laid the baby at an English door;
And through a sacred childhood on the lore
Of leaf, and wind, and bird and brook you fed,
And in your heart an eerie passion bore,

And from life's actual needs affrighted fled,

And your own lonely life with spring and autumn

led;