And catch the sparks that flutter from the stars!

See how the late sky spreads in flushing bars!

They are dead roses from your own dear land,

Tossed high by kindly breezes; lean, and hark,

And you shall know how Morning glads her lark!

The timid Dawn, herself a child,

little

Casts up shy eyes in loving worship, dear,

Is it not yet enough? The Spring is here,

And would you weep for winter's tempest wild? Sigh not for love, dark!

the ways of love are

COLERIDGE

THINE is the mystic melody,

The far-off murmur of some dreamland sea
Lifting throughout the night,
Up to the moon's mild light,
Waves silver-lustrous, silvery-white,
That beat in rhythm on the shadowy shore,
And burst in music, and are seen no more.

THE HUDSON

WHERE in its old historic splendor stands The home of England's far-famed Parliament,

And waters of the Thames in calm content

At England's fame flow slowly o'er their sands;

And where the Rhine past vine-entwined lands

Courses in castled beauty, there I went;
And far to Southern rivers, flower-besprent;
And to the icy streams of Northern strands.
Then mine own native shores I trod once
more,

And, gazing on thy waters' majesty,
The memory, O Hudson, came to me

Of one who went to seek the wide world o'er

For Love, but found it not. Then home turned he

And saw his mother waiting at the door.

Before thou wast a being, made
Of spirit, as of flesh,

Thou didst sleep beneath the beats
Of my tumultuous heart, and drink,
With little aimless lips
And blind, unseeing eyes,
From every bursting vein

Replete with life's abundant flood.
Ay! even of my very breath,
And from my blood

Thou didst imbibe the fresh

And glorious air, that holds the sweets
Of nature's sure and slow eclipse;
That ceaseless round of life and death
Which are the close entwined braid
Of all the seasons' subtle mesh
And endless chain.

And watch the flit

Of idle shadows to and fro,

And brood upon my treasure hid
Within my willing flesh.

And when there stirred

A little limb -a tiny hand! —
What rapturous thrills of ecstasy
Shook all my being to its inmost citadel !
Ah! none but she who has borne

A child beneath her breast may know
What wondrous thrill and subtle spell
Comes from this wondrous woven band
That binds a mother to her unborn child
Within her womb.

DEEP WATERS

DEATH could not come between us two: What fear of death could be,

If thou, its shadow passing through, But turned and looked at me? Nor yet could pain the vision dim With misty blur of tears;