Oh, what begetteth all this storm of bliss,

But Death himself, who, crying solemnly,

Even from the heart of sweet forgetfulness, Bids us, 66 Rejoice! lest pleasureless ye die.

Within a little time must ye go by. Stretch forth your open hands, and, while ye live,

Take all the gifts that Death and Life may give ?"

[From the Earthly Paradise.]
APRIL.

O FAIR midspring, besung so oft and oft,

How can I praise thy loveliness enow?

Thy sun that burns not and thy breezes soft

That o'er the blossoms of the orchard blow,

The thousand things that 'neath the young leaves grow,

The hopes and chances of the growing year, Winter forgotten long and summer [rose, When summer brings the lily and the She brings no fear; her very death she brings

near.

Hid in her anxious heart, the forge of woes;

And dull with fear, no more the mavis sings.

But thou! thou diest not, but thy

fresh life clings About the fainting autumn's sweet decay,

When in the earth the hopeful seed

they lay.

Ah! life of all the year, why yet do I, Amid thy snowy blossoms' fragrant drift,

Still long for that which never draweth nigh, Striving my pleasure from my pain to sift,

Some weight from off my fluttering mirth to lift?

- Now when far bells are ringing, "Come again,

Come back, past years! why will ye pass in vain ?"

[From the Earthly Paradise.]

DECEMBER.

DEAD lonely night, and all streets quiet now,

Thin o'er the moon the hindmost cloud swims past

Of that great rack that brought us up the snow;

On earth, strange shadows o'er the snow are cast;

Pale stars, bright moon, swift cloud, make heaven so vast,

That earth, left silent by the wind of night,

Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.

Ah! through the hush the looked-for midnight clangs!

And then, e'en while its last stroke's solemn drone

In the cold air by unlit windows hangs,

Out break the bells above the year foredone,

Change, kindness lost, love left unloved alone;

Till their despairing sweetness makes thee deem

Thou once wert loved, if but amidst a dream.

[love, Oh, thou who clingest still to life and Though naught of good, no God thou mayst discern,

Though naught that is, thine utmost woe can move,

Though no soul knows wherewith thine heart doth yearn, Yet, since thy weary lips no curse can learn, [away, Cast no least thing thou lovedst once Since yet, perchance, thine eyes shall see the day.

LAST VERSES.

[Given to a Friend a day or two before the

Writer's Death.]

Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling,

Thou gentle heart;

am sleeping,

Life's fever o'er.

grief be swelling,

Let no tear start:

weeping

That I'm no more?

Will there be any heart still memory

keeping

Of heretofore?

When the great winds through leafless forests rushing Sad music make;

When the swollen streams, o'er crag and gully gushing,

Like full hearts break, Will there then one, whose heart despair is crushing, Mourn for my sake?

When the bright sun upon that spot is shining,

With purest ray, And the small flowers, their buds and blossoms twining,

Burst through that clay, · Will there be one still on that spot repining

Lost hopes all day?

When no star twinkles with its eye of glory

On that low mound, And wintry storms have, with their ruins hoary,

Its loneness crowned,

Will there be then one, versed in

misery's story,
Pacing it round?

It may be so,

sorrow

- but this is selfish

To ask such meed,·

borrow,

From hearts that bleed,

The wailings of to-day for what to

morrow

Shall never need.

That our first tryst was set! O wae's me for the loanin' green Where we were wont to gae, And wae's me for the destinie That gart me luve thee sae!

But oh! remember me, Willie,
On land where'er ye be;

And oh! think on the leal, leal heart,
That ne'er luvit ane but thee!
And oh! think on the cauld, cauld
mools

That file my yellow hair,

chin

Ye never shall kiss mair!

tears,

And sair and sick I pine,