CHARLES TENNYSON-TURNER. CCXXXVII. THE OCEAN. THE Ocean at the bidding of the moon CCXXXVIII. THE LAKE. O LAKE of sylvan shore, when gentle Spring Slopes down upon thee from the mountain side, When birds begin to build and brood and sing, Or in maturer season, when the pied And fragrant turf is thronged with blossoms rare In the frore sweetness of the breathing morn, When the loud pealing of the huntsman's horn Doth sally forth upon the silent air Of thy thick forestry, may I be there, While the wood waits to see its phantom born At clearing twilight in thy glassy breast, Or when cool eve is busy on thy shores With trails of purple shadow from the west, CHARLES TENNYSON-TURNER. CCXXXIX. SUMMER GLOAMING. It is a Summer's gloaming, faint and sweet, CCXL. "FROM NIGHT TO NIGHT.” FROM night to night, through circling darkness whirled, The shifting tides and the eternal shore: Sources of life, and forces of the world, Unseen, unknown, in folds of mystery furled, Unseen, unknown, remain for evermore : To heaven-hid heights man's questioning soul would soar, Yet falls from darkness unto darkness hurled! Angels of light, ye spirits of the air, Peopling of yore the dreamland of our youth, st Ye who once led us through those scenes so fair, Lead now, and leave us near the realm of Truth: Lo, if in dreams some truths we chanced to see, Now in the truth some dreams may haply be. SAMUEL WADDINGTON. CCXLI. THE AFTERMATH. It was late summer, and the grass again Had grown knee-deep,-we stood, my love and I, Awhile in silence where the stream runs by; Idly we listened to a plaintive strain, A young maid singing to her youthful swain,—— She moved aside, yet soon she answered me, Dear love, just so love's aftermath may be A richer growth than e'er spring-days have known.” |