A crimson as bright as thine own! X. TO THE DAISY, WITH little here to do or see Thou unassuming common-place Oft do I sit by thee at ease, Loose types of things through all degrees, And many a fond and idle name A nun demure, of lowly port; Of all temptations; A queen in crown of rubies dressed; A little Cyclops, with one eye The shape will vanish, and, behold! I see thee glittering from afar,— Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Who shall reprove thee ! Sweet flower! for by that name at last, I call thee, and to that cleave fast,— That breath'st with me in sun and air, XL TO THE SAME FLOWER. BRIGHT flower, whose home is everywhere! A pilgrim bold in Nature's care, And all the long year through, the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest thorough! Is it that man is soon depressed? Or on his reason, And thou wouldst teach him how to find A hope for times that are unkind, And every season? Thou wanderest the wide world about, Meek, yielding to th' occasion's call, In peace fulfilling. XII. TO A SKY-LARK. Up with me! up with me, into the clouds ! For thy song, Lark, is strong; Up with me! up with me into the clouds! With all the heavens about thee ringing. That spot which seems so to thy mind! I have walked through wildernesses dreary, There is madness about thee, and joy divine Up with me, up with me, high and high, Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Happy, happy liver! With a soul as strong as a mountain river, As merry a brother, I on the earth will go plodding on, (269) XIIL TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheelbarrow alone— In thy bonehouse, bone on bone? 'Tis already like a hill In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid. -These died in peace each with the other, Father, sister, friend, and brother. Mark the spot to which I point! From this platform, eight feet square, Take not even a finger-joint; Andrew's whole fireside is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly daughter lies, From weakness, now, and pain defended, Whom he twenty winters tended. Look but at the gardener's pride How he glories, when he sees Roses, lilies, side by side, Violets in families! By the heart of man, his tears, 10 Thou, old grey-beard! art the warden Thus, then, each to other dear, And, should I live through sun and rain XIV. WHO fancied what a pretty sight Was it the humour of a child! Or rather of some love-sick maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The shepherd queen, were thus arrayed? Of man mature, or matron sage? Or old man toying with his age? I asked-'twas whispered, the device To each or all might well belong : It is the spirit of paradise That prompts such work, a spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent. XV. FOR THE WANDERING JEW. THOUGH the torrents from their fountains If on windy days the raven Not the less he loves his haven Though the sea-horse in the ocean Day and night my toils redouble! XVI THE SEVEN SISTERS; OR, THE SOLITUDE OF SEVEN daughters had Lord Archibald, I could not say in one short day Sing mournfully, oh ! mournfully, ; Fresh blows the wind, a western wind, Across the wave, a rover brave To Binnorie is steering: Right onward to the Scottish strand The gallant ship is borne ; The warriors leap upon the land, And hark the leader of the band Hath blown his bugle-horn. Sing mournfully, oh! mournfully, Beside a grotto of their own, With boughs above them closing, At noise of man and steed, But now, upstarting with affright |