Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; She drugs her water and her wheat With the flavors she finds meet, And gives them what to drink and eat; And having thus their bread and growth, They do her bidding, nothing loath. What's most theirs is not their own, But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, And in their vaunted works of Art The master-stroke is still her part. THE ROMANY GIRL. HE sun goes down, and with him takes THE The coarseness of my poor attire; The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; You captives of your air-tight halls, Wear out in-doors your sickly days, But leave us the horizon walls. And if I take you, dames, to task, And say it frankly without guile, If, on the heath, below the moon, I court and play with paler blood, Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, The rocks and forest know it real. The wild air bloweth in our lungs, The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, You doubt we read the stars on high, DAYS. DAUGHTERS of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file, Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will, Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT AY! hast thou two faces, DAY Making one place two places? One, by humble farmer seen, Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, Useful only, triste and damp, Serving for a laborer's lamp? To be the appanage of pride, Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, O Day! and is your mightiness |