THOMAS HOOD.

CVII.

DEATH.

It is not death, that sometime in a sigh

This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply

In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night, That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;

That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite

Be lapped in alien clay and laid below;

It is not death to know this, but to know

That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves

In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go

So duly and so oft,-and when grass waves

Over the past-away, there may be then
No resurrection in the minds of men.

CVIII,

THE TIMES TO COME.

THE moon that borrows now a gentle light
Once burned another sun; then from on high
The earth received a double day; the sky
Showed but faint stars, and never knew a night.
The poles, now frigid and for ever white

With the deep snows that on their bosoms lie,

Were torrid as the moon that hung thereby

And mingled rays as fiercely hot as bright.

Mutations infinite! Through shifting sea

And lands huge monstrous beasts once took their range

Where now our stately world shows pleasantly!
Then be not fearful at the thought of change,

For though unknown the times that are to be,
Yet shall they prove most beautifully strange.

LORD HOUGHTON.

CIX.

HAPPINESS.

A SPLENDOUR amid glooms,-a sunny thread
Woven into a tapestry of cloud,—

A merry child a-playing with the shroud
That lies upon a breathless mother's bed,--
A garland on the front of one new-wed,

Trembling and weeping while her troth is vowed,—

A schoolboy's laugh that rises light and loud

In licensed freedom from ungentle dread;

These are examples of the Happiness

For which our nature fits us; More and Less

Are parts of all things to the mortal given,

Of Love, Joy, Truth, and Beauty. Perfect Light Would dazzle, not illuminate our sight,— From Earth it is enough to glimpse at Heaven.

CX.

THE NILE.

IT flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands,

Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream,
And times and things, as in that vision, seem

Keeping along it their eternal stands,—

Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd bands

That roamed through the young world, the glory extreme

Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam,

The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands.

Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong,

As of a world left empty of its throng,

And the void weighs on us; and then we wake,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along
'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take
Our own calm journey on for human sake.

LEIGH HUNT.

CXI.

THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.

GREEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,

Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class

With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;

O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong

One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are

strong

At your clear hearts; and both were sent on earth

To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song:

In-doors and out, summer and winter,-Mirth.

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