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ure of a ring,

me such treasure bring, I be above a king, thou dost not so — ye, aye! Say why dost not so!


IF thou canst make the frost be gone, And fleet


the snow (And that thou canst, I trow); If thou canst make the Spring to dawn, Hawthorn to put her brav'ry on, Willow, her weeds of fine green lawn, Say why thou dost not so —

Aye, aye!

Say why
Thou dost not so !

If thou canst chase the stormy rack,

And bid the soft winds blow

(And that thou canst, I trow); If thou canst call the thrushes back To give the groves the songs they lack, And wake the violet in thy track, Say why thou dost not so

Aye, aye!

Say why
Thou dost not so !

If thou canst make my Winter Spring,

With one word breathèd low
(And that thou canst, I know);



If, in the closure of a ring,
Thou canst to me such treasure bring,
My state shall be above a king,
Say why thou dost not so —

Aye, aye!

Say why
Thou dost not so !


He rides away at early light,

Amid the tingling frost,
And in the mist that sweeps her sight

His form is quickly lost.

He crosses now the silent stream,

Now skirts the forest drear, Whose thickets cast a silver gleam

From leafage thin and sear.

Long falls the shadow at his back

(The morning springs before); His thoughts fly down the shadowed track,

And haunt his cottage-door.

Miles gone, upon a hilltop bare

He draws a sudden rein :
His name, her voice, rings on the air,

Then all is still again!

She sits at home, she speaks no word,

But deeply calls her heart; And this it is that he has heard, Though they are miles apart.


SOMETIME in Heaven sojourned this bird, And there the chant of the seraphs heard ;

One note of the theme it repeateth still “Cherish, cherish, oh! cherish till Quivers the song-swept blue above;

And earth, lying dreamily under,
Thrills with delight and wonder —

“ Cherish Love."

Therefore the bloom to the apple-bough,
The flower to the wood-knoll, springeth now,

And leaf-inist gathers in copse and glen.
“Cherish, cherish, oh! cherish," again
The flute-voice calls from the blue above.

How shall I dare gainsay it?
What should I do but obey it?

“ Cherish Love."

Not now can the seed be pent underground,
The bud in its Winter sheath be bound,
Nor the spirit in me be chained and dark.
“ Cherish, cherish, oh! cherish” - hark
To the seraph-taught in the blue above !

But if the song should not reach thee,
Who shall it be that will teach thee
“ Cherish Love”?

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