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The soul's desire-a lay

at, when a thousand years are told,

Should praise thee, genial Power!

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And yet how pleased we wander forth
When May is whispering, "Come!
Choose from the bowers of virgin earth
The happiest for your home;
Heaven's bounteous love through me is
spread

From sunshine, clouds, winds, waves,
Drops on the mouldering turret's head, 55
And on your turf-clad graves!"

Such greeting heard, away with sighs
For lilies that must fade,

Or "the rathe primrose as it dies
Forsaken" in the shade!

rough summer heat, autumnal cold, 15 Vernal fruitions and desires

And winter's dreariest hour.

rth, sea, thy presence feel-nor less,
If yon ethereal blue

ith its soft smile the truth express,
The heavens have felt it too.
e inmost heart of man if glad

Partakes a livelier cheer;
deyes that cannot but be sad

Get fall a brightened tear.

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Are linked in endless chase;

While, as one kindly growth retires,
Another takes its place.

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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known

Mishap by worm and blight;

If expectations newly blown

Have perished in thy sight;

If loves and joys, while up they sprung,
Were caught as in a snare;

ce thy return, through days and Such is the lot of all the young,

weeks

Of hope that grew by stealth,

w many wan and faded cheeks lave kindled into health!

However bright and fair.

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Lo! Streams that April could not check
Are patient of thy rule;

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Gurgling in foamy water-break,
Loitering in glassy pool:
By thee, thee only, could be sent
Such gentle mists as glide,
Curling with unconfirmed intent,
On that green mountain's side.

How delicate the leafy veil

Through which yon house of God Gleams 'mid the peace of this deep dale By few but shepherds trod! And lowly huts, near beaten ways, No sooner stand attired

75 The shade and light, both there and everywhere,

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85

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Thou be that, kindling with a poet's soul

In thy fresh wreaths, than they for Hast loved the painter's true Promethean

praise

Peep forth, and are admired.

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Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a

moon

Crescent in simple loveliness serene,

Has but approached the gates of womanhood,

Not entered them; her heart is yet unpierced

By the blind Archer-god; her fancy free:

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That both creates and fixes, in despite
Of Death and Time, the marvels it hath
wrought.

Strange contrasts have we in this world of ours!

That posture, and the look of filial love 80
Thinking of past and gone, with what is
left

The fount of feeling, if unsought else- Dearly united, might be swept away
where,
From this fair Portrait's fleshly Archetype,
Even by an innocent fancy's slightest

Will not be found.

Her right hand, as it lies Across the slender wrist of the left arm pon her lap reposing, holds-but mark How slackly, for the absent mind permits

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To firmer grasp a little wild-flower, joined

is in a posy, with a few pale ears

f yellowing corn, the same that overtopped

freak

Banished, nor ever, haply, be restored 85
To their lost place, or meet in harmony
So exquisite; but here do they abide,
Enshrined for ages. Is not then the Art
Godlike, a humble branch of the divine,
In visible quest of immortality,
Stretched forth with trembling hope?-In

every realm,

From high Gibraltar to Siberian plains, and in their common birthplace sheltered Thousands, in each variety of tongue it

ill they were plucked together; a blue flower 60

alled by the thrifty husbandman a weed; ut Ceres, in her garland, might have

worn

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That Europe knows, would echo this

appeal;

One above all, a Monk who waits on God
In the magnific Convent built of yore 96
To sanctify the Escurial palace. He-
Guiding, from cell to cell and room to

room,

A British Painter (eminent for truth

hat ornament, unblamed. The floweret, held scarcely conscious fingers, was, she In character, and depth of feeling, shown knows, By labours that have touched the hearts of kings,

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And thinking of my Brethren, dead, dis- And dissolution and decay, the warm persed, And breathing life of flesh, as if already

Or changed and changing, I not seldom Clothed with impassive majesty, and

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125 Into Bethesda's pool, with healing virtue Informs the fountain in the human breast Which by the visitation was disturbed.

-But why this stealing tear? Com

panion mute,

graced

With no mean earnest of a heritage Assigned to it in future worlds. Tha too,

With thy memorial flower, meek P traiture!

From whose serene companionship 1 passed

Pursued by thoughts that haunt me sall

thou also

Though but a simple object, into light Called forth by those affections endear

The private hearth; though keeping sole seat

In singleness, and little tried by time,
Creation, as it were, of yesterday—
With a congenial function art endued
For each and all of us, together joined
In course of nature under a low roof
By charities and duties that proceed
Out of the bosom of a wiser vow.
To a like salutary sense of awe
Or sacred wonder, growing with

power

Of meditation that attempts to weigh On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee In faithful scales, things and their

130

posites,

well, My Song's Inspirer, once again farewell! Can thy enduring quiet gently raise A household small and sensitive,-who

XLI.

THE FOREGOING SUBJECT
RESUMED.

[Composed 1834.-Published 1835.]

AMONG a grave fraternity of Monks,
For One, but surely not for One alone,
Triumphs, in that great work, the
Painter's skill,

Humbling the body, to exalt the soul;
Yet representing, amid wreck and wrong

1 The pile of buildings composing the palace and convent of San Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the Escurial, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.

love,

Dependent as in part its blessings are Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved On earth, will be revived, we trust, heaven 2.

In the class entitled "Musings," in Southey's Minor Poems, is one upon his miniature Picture, taken in childhood, and other upon a landscape painted by Ga Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, have been written had the author been us quainted with those beautiful effusions of poeti sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he mad be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge pleasure those two Poems of his Friend L given him, and the grateful influence they bay upon his mind as often as he reads the thinks of them.

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XLII.

[Composed 1844.-Published 1845.]

fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,

Would that the little Flowers were born to live,

XLIII.

UPON SEEING A COLOURED DRAW.
ING OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE
IN AN ALBUM.

[Composed 1835-6.-Published 1837.]

Jonscious of half the pleasure which they WHO rashly strove thy Image to portray?

give;

hat to this mountain-daisy's self were known

he beauty of its star-shaped shadow,

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n the smooth surface of this naked

stone!

nd what if hence a bold desire should mount

igh as the Sun, that he could take account

all that issues from his glorious

fount !

Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air; How could he think of the live creaturegay

With a divinity of colours, drest

In all her brightness, from the dancing

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Are here, and likenesses of many a shell

might he ken how by his sovereign Tossed ashore by restless waves,

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earth, air, ocean, or the starry sky,

averse with Nature in pure sympathy;

vain desires, all lawless wishes quelled,

Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from

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Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes

Where'er her course; mysterious Bird! 25

Thou to love and praise alike im- To whom, by wondering Fancy stirred, pelled,

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Eastern Islanders have given

atever boon is granted or withheld.

A holy name-the Bird of Heaven!

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