CXXV. A THOUGHT FROM PINDAR. (Nem: V.) TWIN immortalities man's art doth give To every town where aught of soul doth stir, CXXVI. SUBURBAN MEADOWS. How calmly drops the dew on tree and plant, But there the human rivers ebb and flow, Here now I love to wander morn and eve, Till oaks and elms have grown oracular; Yet conscious that my soberest thoughts receive And scarcely know to which I most belong- OXXVII. EVENING. ALREADY evening! In the duskiest nook Shelves his sharp light up shallow banks thinspread; The slumbrous west grows slowly red, and red: The moon is lifting: and deliciously Along the warm blue hills the day declines: The first star brightens while she waits for me, And round her swelling heart the zone grows tight: Musing, half-sad, in her soft hair she twines The white rose, whispering "He will come to-night !" CXXVIII. YOUTH AND NATURE. Is this the sky, and this the very earth Heard once within the storm-cloud's awful girth, Are these the forests loved of old so well, That with thy passing, Nature, too, should pass? CXXIX. A DREAM. HERE where last night she came, even she, for whom I would so gladly live or lie down dead, Came in the likeness of a dream and said Some words that thrilled this desolate ghost-thronged room I sit alone now in the absolute gloom. Ah! surely on her breast was leaned my head, Nor think the gods severe though thus they seem, Though thou hast much to bear and much to miss, Whilst thou thy nights and days to be canst deein One thing, and that thing veritably this The imperishable memory of a dream. |