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N a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look ;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.

Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any
Writhed not at passèd joy?
To know the change and feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steal it,
Was never said in rhyme.



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USH, hush! Tread softly! hush, hush, my

dear! All the house is asleep, but we know very

well That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may hear, Tho' you've padded his night-cap-O sweet

Tho'your feet are more light than a Faery's feet,

Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet,Hush, hush! soft tiptoe! hush, hush, my dear! For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.

No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there

On the river, — all's still, and the night's sleepy eye Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care, Charm'd to death by the drone of the humming

And the moon, whether prudish or complaisant,

Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want
No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,
But my Isabel's eyes and her lips pulp'd with bloom.

III. Lift the latch ! ah gently! ah tenderiy — sweet !

We are dead if that latchet gives one little clink!

· First printed in the " Lit. panion for the Lovers of erary Pocket-book and Com. Nature and Art,” for 1818.

Well done!—now those lips, and a flowery seat The old man may sleep, and the planets may wink; The shut rose shall dream of our loves and

awake Full-blown, and such warmth for the morning

take, The stock-dove shall hatch his soft twin-eggs and coo, While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!



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HED no tear! oh shed no tear!

The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! oh weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Dry your eyes! oh dry your eyes!
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies -

Shed no tear.
Overhead! look overhead !
'Mong the blossoms white and red -
Look up, look up. I flutter now
On this flush pomegranate bough.
See me! 'tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man's ill.
Shed no tear! Oh shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu! — I fly, adieu!
I vanish in the heaven's blue-

Adieu! Adieu !


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Spirit here that laughest !
Spirit here that quaffest!
Spirit here that dancest!
Noble soul that prancest!

Spirit! with thee

I join in the glee,
While nudging the elbow of Momus !

Spirit! I flush

With a Bacchanal blush,
Just fresh from the banquet of Comus !



H! woe is me! poor Silver-wing!

That I must chant thy lady's dirge,
And death to this fair haunt of spring,
Of melody, and streams of flowery verge, -

Poor Silver-wing ! ah! woe is me!

That I must see

These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!

Go, pretty page, and in her ear
Whisper that the hour is near.

Softly tell her not to fear
Such calm favonian burial !

Go, pretty page! and soothly tell,

The blossoms hang by a melting spell,
And fall they must ere a star wink thrice

Upon her closed eyes,
That now in vain are weeping their last tears

At sweet life leaving, and these arbours green,Rich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres,

Alas! poor Queen !



APPY, happy glowing fire!

Zep. Fragrant air! delicious light !
Dus. Let me to my glooms retire !
Bre. I to green-weed rivers bright!

Sal. Happy, happy glowing fire!
Dazzling bowers of soft retire,
Ever let my nourish'd wing,
Like a bat's, still wandering,
Faintly fan your fiery spaces,
Spirit sole in deadly places.
In unhaunted roar and blaze,

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