And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full,

You never would hear it; your ears are so dull;

So keep where you are: you are foul with sin;

It would shrink to the earth if you came in.

THE SEA-FAIRIES.

SLOW Sail'd the weary mariners and

saw,

Betwixt the green brink and the running foam,

Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest

To little harps of gold; and while they

mused

Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea.

Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more.

Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore?

Day and night to the billow the fountain calls:

Down shower the gambolling water

falls

From wandering over the lea:
Out of the live-green heart of the dells
They freshen the silvery-crimson
shells,

And thick with white bells the cloverhill swells

High over the full-toned sea:

O hither, come hither and furl your sails,

Come hither to me and to me:
Hither, come hither and frolic and
play;

Here it is only the mew that wails;
We will sing to you all the day:
Mariner, mariner, furl your sails,
For here are the blissful downs and

dales, And merrily, merrily carol the gales,

And the spangle dances in bight and bay,

And the rainbow forms and flies on the land

Over the islands free;

And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand;

Hither, come hither and see; And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave,

And sweet is the color of cove and

cave,

And sweet shall your welcome be: O hither, come hither, and be our lords,

For merry brides are we:

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words:

O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten With pleasure and love and jubilee : O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords

Runs up the ridged sea.

Who can light on as happy a shore All the world o'er, all the world o'er? Whither away? listen and stay:

mariner, mariner, fly no more.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

I.

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they!

II.

All within is dark as night.
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

III.

Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.

IV.

Come away: no more of mirth

Is here or merry-making sound.

The house was builded of the earth, And shall fall again to ground.

V.

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious

A great and distant city - have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have staid with us!

THE DYING SWAN.

I.

THE plain was grassy, wild and bare, Wide, wild, and open to the air, Which had built up everywhere

An under-roof of doleful gray. With an inner voice the river ran, Adown it floated a dying swan,

And loudly did lament.

It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on,

And took the reed-tops as it went.

Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear; But anon her awful jubilant voice, With a music strange and manifold, Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold; As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,

And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd

Thro' the open gates of the city afar, To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.

And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,

And the willow-branches hoar and dank,

And the wavy sweil of the soughing reeds,

And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,

And the silvery marish-flowers that throng

The desolate creeks and pools among, Were flooded over with eddying song.

And talking to himself, first met his sight:

"You must begone," said Death, "these walks are mine." Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted said, "This hour is thine:

Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree

Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,

So in the light of great eternity

Life eminent creates the shade of death;

The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,

But I shall reign forever over all."

THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.
My heart is wasted with my woe,
Oriana.

There is no rest for me below,
Oriana.

When the long dun wolds are ribb❜d with snow,

And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow,

Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

Ere the light on dark was growing, Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing, Oriana:

Winds were blowing, waters flowing,
We heard the steeds to battle going,
Oriana;

Aloud the hollow bugle blowing,
Oriana.

In the yew-wood black as night,
Oriana,

Ere I rode into the fight,

Oriana,

While blissful tears blinded my sight
By star-shine and by moonlight,
Oriana,

I to thee my troth did plight,
Oriana.