are strung; But there are moments which he calls his own. Then, never less alone than when alone, Those whom he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,- not dead,— but gone before, He gathers round him; and revives at will Scenes in his life,- that breathe enchantment still, That come not now at dreary intervals, But where a light as from the blessed falls, A light such guests bring ever,―pure and holy, Lapping the soul in sweetest melancholy! His to prescribe the place, adjudge-Ah, then less willing (nor the the prize, [energies choice condemn) Envying no more the young their To live with others than to think of Than they an old man when his words are wise; His a delight how pure out alloy; Strong in their strength, rejoicing in their joy! [repay Now in their turn assisting, they The anxious cares of many and many a day; And now by those he loves relieved, restored, His very wants and weaknesses afford A feeling of enjoyment. In his walks, Leaning on them, how oft he stops and talks, While they look up! Their questions, their replies, Fresh as the welling waters, round him rise, Gladdening his spirit; and, his theme the past, How eloquent he is! His thoughts flow fast; And, while his heart (oh, can the heart grow old? False are the tales that in the world are told!) Swells in his voice, he knows not where to end; Like one discoursing of an absent friend. them! [From The Pleasures of Memory.] THOU first, best friend that heaven assigns below To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades and life forgets to charm; Thee would the Muse invoke! - to thee belong The sage's precept and the poet's song. What softened views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape time's meek twilight steals! As when in ocean sinks the orb of day, Long on the wave reflected lustres play; Thy tempered gleams of happiness resigned Glance on the darkened mirror of the mind. DOES the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. But is there for the night a restingplace? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. Will the day's journey take the whole | May not the darkness hide it from my long day? From morn to night, my friend. face? You cannot miss that inn. I wonder if the springtide of this year Will bring another spring both lost and dear; If heart and spirit will find out their spring, Or if the world alone will bud and sing: Sing, hope, to me; Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory. The sap will surely quicken soon or late, The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate; So spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom, Or in this world, or in the world to come: Sing, voice of spring, Till I too blossom, and rejoice and sing. SONG. WHEN I am dead, my dearest, I shall not see the shadows, And dreaming through the twilight SOUND SLEEP. SOME are laughing, some are weeping; She is sleeping, only sleeping. I still am sore in doubt concerning Round her rest wild flowers are Sing, robin, sing; spring. creeping; There the wind is heaping, heaping, Sweetest sweets of summer's keeping, By the cornfields ripe for reaping. There are lilies, and there blushes There by day the lark is singing AT HOME. And the grass and weeds are spring- WHEN I was dead, my spirit turned ing; There by night the bat is winging; There for ever winds are bringing Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing. Night and morning, noon and even, The long strife at length is striven: Το seek the much-frequented house; Said one: 66 Before the turn of tide "To-morrow," said they, strong with hope, 66 And dwelt upon the pleasant way: I shivered comfortless, but cast To stay, and yet to part how loth: DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. THE SEA-LIMITS. CONSIDER the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible, The murmur of the earth's own shell, Secret continuance sublime Is the era's end. Our sight may pass No furlong farther. was, Since time Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, Herseemed she scarce had been a day One of God's choristers; This sound hath told the lapse of The wonder was not yet quite gone time. From that still look of hers: Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years. It was the rampart of God's house By God built over the sheer depth So high, that looking downward thence She scarce could see the sun. It lies in heaven, across the flood Beneath, the tides of day and night Around her, lovers, newly met 'Mid deathless love's acclaims Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remembered names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames; And still she bowed herself and stooped Out of the circling charm; Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm. From the fixed place of heaven she saw Time like a pulse shake fierce Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce |