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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 —
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
If thou canst make my Winter Spring,
With one word breathèd low
If, in the closure of a ring,
THE HEART'S CALL.
He rides away at early light,
Amid the tingling frost,
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 :
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,
“ Cherish Love."
Therefore the bloom to the apple-bough,
And leaf-inist gathers in copse and glen.
How shall I dare gainsay it?
“ Cherish Love."
Not now can the seed be pent underground,
But if the song should not reach thee,