TO THE RIVER FAIR river! in thy bright, clear flow Of beauty-the unhidden heart— But when within thy wave she looks- Her worshipper resembles; For in his heart, as in thy stream, Her image deeply lies— His heart which trembles at the beam ΤΟ THE bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds, Are lips-and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined Then desolately fall, O God! on my funereal mind Thy heart-thy heart!—I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy— Of the baubles that it may. A DREAM. IN visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departedBut a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day That holy dream-that holy dream, What though that light, thro' storm and night, What could there be more purely bright ROMANCE. ROMANCE, who loves to nod and sing, Hath been a most familiar bird- Of late, eternal Condor years FAIRYLAND. DIM vales-and shadowy floods- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down-still down--and down With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circumference O'er the strange woods-o'er the sea Over spirits on the wing- Or a yellow Albatross. They use that moon no more Which I think extravagant: THE LAKE. TO IN spring of youth it was my lot Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, But when the Night had thrown her pall Then-ah, then, I would awake Yet that terror was not fright, A feeling not the jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define Nor Love-although the Love were thine. Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake. |