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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
Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong
As of a world left empty of its throng,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along 'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake.
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ORIOKET.
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
One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
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.
Is it deep sleep, or is it rather death?
I NEVER wholly feel that summer is high,
However green the trees or loud the birds,
However movelessly eye-winking herds Stand in field ponds, or under large trees lie, Till I do climb all cultured pastures by,
That, hedged by hedgerows studiously trim,
Smile like a lady's face with lace laced prim, And on some moor or hill that seeks the sky Lonely and nakedly,-utterly lie down,
And feel the sunshine throbbing on body and limb,
My drowsy brain in pleasant drunkenness swim, Each rising thought sink back and dreamily drown, Smiles creep o'er my face, and smother my lips,
and cloy, Each muscle sink to itself, and separately enjoy.
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.
MUCH have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ;
Round many western islands have I been
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne :
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
When a new planet swims into his ken;
He stared at the Pacific—and all his men
Silent, upon a peak in Darien,