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Long alleys falling down to twilight |

Or opening upon level plots
Of crowned lilies, standing near

MYSTERY of mysteries,
Purple-spiked lavender :

Faintly smiling Adeline, Whither in after life retired

Scarce of earth nor all divine, From brawling storms,

Nor unhappy, nor at rest, From weary wind,

But beyond expression fair With youthful fancy reinspired,

With thy floating flaxen hair; We may hold converse with all forms | Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes Of the many-sided mind,

Take the heart from out my breast. And those whom passion hath not blinded, Wherefore those dim looks of thine, Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded.

Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?
My friend, with you to live alone,
Were how much better than to own

A crown, a sceptre, and a throne ! Whence that aery bloom of thine,
O strengthen me, enlighten me !

Like a lily which the sun
I faint in this obscurity,

Looks thro' in his sad decline,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.

And a rose-bush leans upon,
Thou that faintly smilest still,

As a Naiad in a well,

Looking at the set of day,

Or a phantom two hours old

Of a maiden past away,

Ere the placid lips be cold ?
A SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours Wherefore those faint smiles of thine,
Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers : Spiritual Adeline ?

To himself he talks ;
For at eventide, listening earnestly,

At his work you may hear him sob and What hope or fear or joy is thine ?

Who talketh with thee, Adeline ?
In the walks ;

For sure thou art not all alone : Earthward he boweth the heavy Do beating hearts of salient springs stalks

Keep measure with thine own? Of the mouldering flowers :

Hast thou heard the butterflies
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower What they say betwixt their wings?

Over its grave i' the earth sochilly; Or in stillest evenings
Heavily hangs the hollyhock, With what voice the violet wooes
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.

To his heart the silver dews?

Or when little airs arise,

How the merry bluebell rings

To the mosses underneath ?
The air is damp, and hush'd, and close, Hast thou look'd upon the breath
As a sick man's room when he taketh Of the lilies at sunrise ?

| Wherefore that faint smile of thine, An hour before death;

Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ? oly very heart faints and my whole soul

grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting Some honey-converse feeds thy mind, leaves,

Some spirit of a crimson rose
And the breath

In love with thee forgets to close
Of the fading edges of box beneath, His curtains, wasting odorous sighs
Ind the year's last rose.

| All night long on darkness blind. Heavily hangs the broad sunflower What aileth thee? whom waitest thou

Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; With thy soften’d, shadow'd brow,
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,

And those dew-lit eyes of thine,
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.

Thou faint smiler, Adeline ?



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Lovest thou the doleful wind
When thou gazest at the skies?

| The poet in a golden clime was born, Doth the low-tongued Orient

With golden stars above;
Wander from the side of the morn,

| Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn Dripping with Sabæan spice

of scorn, On thy pillow, lowly bent

The love of love.
With melodious airs lovelorn,
Breathing Light against thy face,

He saw thro' life and death, thro' good While his locks a-drooping twined

and ill, Round thy neck in subtle ring

He saw thro' his own soul.
Make a carcanet of rays,

The marvel of the everlasting will,
And ye talk together still,

An open scroll,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hils?

| Before him lay: with echoing feet he Hence that look and smile of thine,


The secretest walks of fame :
Spiritual Adeline.

The viewless arrows of his thoughts were


And wing'd with flame,

Like Indian reeds blown from his silver With a half-glance upon the sky

tongue, At night he said, “The wanderings

And of so fierce a flight, Of this most intricate Universe

From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung, Teach me the nothingness of things."

Filling with light
Yet could not all creation pierce
Beyond the bottom of his eye.

And vagrant melodies the winds which

bore He spake of beauty : that the dull

Them earthward till they lit; Saw no divinity in grass,

Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field Life in dead stones, or spirit in air ;

flower, Then looking as 't were in a glass,

The fruitful wit He smooth'd his chin and sleek'd his hair, And said the earth was beautiful. | Cleaving, took root, and springing forth

anew fle spake of virtue : not the gods

Where'er they fell, behold,

Like to the mother plant in semblance, More purely, when they wish to charm Pallas and Juno sitting by :

grew And with a sweeping of the arm,

A flower all gold,
And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye,
Devolved his rounded periods.

And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling

The winged shafts of truth,

To throng with stately blooms the breathMost delicately hour by hour

ing spring He canvass'd human mysteries,

Of Hope and Youth.
And trod on silk, as if the winds
Blew his own praises in his eyes,

So many minds did gird their orbs with And stood aloof from other minds

beams, In impotence of fancied power.

Tho' one did fling the fire.

Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many With lips depress'd as he were meek,

dreams Himself unto himself he sold :

Of high desire. Upon himself himself did feed : Quiet, dispassionate, and cold, | Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the And other than his form of creed, With chisell’d features clear and sleek. I Like one great garden show'd,

.. world

And thro' the wreaths of floating dark | In your eye there is death,

There is frost in your breath
Rare sunrise flow'd.

Which would blight the plants.

Where you stand you cannot hear And Freedom rear'd in that august sun

From the groves within

The wild-bird's din.
Her beautiful bold brow,

| In the heart of the garden the merry When rites and forms before his burning

bird chants, eyes

It would fall to the ground if you came in. Melted like snow.

In the middle leaps a fountain

Like sheet lightning, There was no blood upon hermaiden robes Ever brightening Sunn'd by those orient skies;

With a low melodious thunder ; But round about the circles of the globes All day and all night it is ever drawn Of her keen eyes

From the brain of the purple mountain

Which stands in the distance yonder : And in her raiment's hem was traced in It springs on a level of bowery lawn, flame

And the mountain draws it from Heaven WISDOM, a name to shake

above, All evil dreams of power- a sacred name. And it sings a song of undying love ; And when she spake,

And yet, tho'its voice be so clear and full,

You never would hear it ; your ears are Her words did gather thunder as they

so dull ; ran,

So keep where you are : you are foul with And as the lightning to the thunder

sin ; Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, It would shrink to the earth if you came

Making earth wonder, So was their meaning to her words. No sword

THE SEA-FAIRIES. Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his Slow sail'd the weary mariners and saw, word

Betwixt the green brink and the runShe shook the world.

ning foam, Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms



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To little harps of gold; and while they

mused, Whispering to each other half in fear,

Shrill music reach'd them on the middle Vex not thou the poet's mind

sea. With thy shallow wit : Vex not thou the poet's mind ;

Whither away, whither away, whither For thou canst not fathom it.

away? fly no more. Clear and bright it should be ever, Whither away from the high green field, Flowing like a crystal river;

and the happy blossoming shore ? Bright as light, and clear as wind.

Day and night to the billow the fountain


Down shower the gambolling waterfalls Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear ; From wandering over the lea : All the place is holy ground;

Out of the live-green heart of the dells Hollow smile and frozen sneer

They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, Come not here.

And thick with white bells the clover-hill Holy water will I pour

swells Into every spicy flower

High over the full-toned sea : Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. O hither, come hither and furl your sails The flowers would faintat your cruel cheer. I Come hither to me and to mo:


Hither, come hither and frolic and play ; 10 listen, listen, your eyos shall glisten Here it is only the mew that wails; When the sharp clear twang of the golden We will sing to you all the day :

chords Mariner, mariner, furl your sails, Runs up the ridged sea. For here are the blissful downs and dales, Who can light on as happy a shore And merrily, merrily carol the gales, All the world o'er, all the world o'er ? And the spangle dances in bight and Whither away ? listen and stay: mariner, bay,

mariner, fly no more. And the rainbow forms and flies on the

land Over the islands free ;

THE DESERTED HOUSE. And the rainbow lives in the curve of

the sand ; Hither, come hither and see ; And the rainbow hangs on the poising LIFE a

he poising | Life and Thought have gone away wave,

Side by side, And sweet is the color of cove and cave, Leaving door and windows wide : And sweet shall your welcome be :

| Careless tenants they ! O hither, come hither, and be our lords, For merry brides are we :

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak All within is dark as night :
sweet words :

In the windows is no light;
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten | And no murmur at the door,
With pleasure and love and jubilee : | So frequent on its hinge before.

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Prevailingin weakness, the coronach stolo Close the door, the shutters close,

Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
Or thro' the windows we shall see

But anon her awful jubilant voice,
The nakedness and vacancy

With a music strange and manifold, Of the dark deserted house.

Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold :

As when a mighty people rejoice

With shawms, and with cymbals, and

harps of gold, Come away: no more of mirth

And the tumult of their acclaim is rollid Is here or merry-making sound.

Thro' the open gates of the city afar, The house was builded of the earth,

Totheshepherd who watcheth the evening And shall fall again to ground.


And the creeping mosses and clambering v.

weeds, Come away : for Life and Thought

And the willow-branches hoar and dank, Here no longer dwell ;

And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, But in a city glorious —

And the wave-worn horns of the echoing A great and distant city — have bought

bank, A mansion incorruptible.

And the silvery marish-flowers that throng Would they could have stayed with The desolate creeks and pools ainong, us !

| Were flooded over with eddying song.

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