XVI. TO A SKY-LARK. Up with me! up with me into the clouds! With clouds and sky about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy mind! Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, And hope for higher raptures, when Life's day is done. XVII. TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheel-barrow alone- In thy Bone-house bone on bone? 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! Andrew's whole fire-side is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly Daughter lies, From weakness now, and pain defended, Look but at the gardener's pride — Roses, Lilies, side by side, Violets in families! By the heart of Man, his tears, Thou, old Grey-beard! art the Warden Thus then, each to other dear, Let them all in quiet lie, Andrew there, and Susan here, Neighbours in mortality. And, should I live through sun and rain Seven widowed years without my O Sexton, do not then remove her, Jane, Let one grave hold the Loved and Lover! XVIII. 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 I asked 'twas whispered, The device - To each and 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. XIX. SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. THOUGH the torrents from their fountains Roar down many a craggy steep, Yet they find among the mountains Clouds that love through air to hasten, Ere the storm its fury stills, Helmet-like themselves will fasten On the heads of towering hills. What, if through the frozen centre In some nook of chosen ground. |