Will rend thy golden tresses;

The ocean with the morrow light Will be both blue and calm;

kiss as soft as mine.

No Western odors wander

On the black and moaning sea, And when thou art dead, Leander, My soul must follow thee!

O go not yet, my love!

Thy voice is sweet and low;

The deep salt wave breaks in above

Those marble steps below.
The turret-stairs are wet

That lead into the sea.
Leander go not yet.
The pleasant stars have set :
O, go not, go not yet,

Or I will follow thee!

THE MYSTIC.

ANGELS have talked with him, and showed him thrones :

Ye knew him not; he was not one of ye, Ye scorned him with an undiscerning

scorn:

:

Ye could not read the marvel in his eye,
The still serene abstraction he hath felt
The vanities of after and before;
Albeit, his spirit and his secret heart
The stern experiences of converse lives,
The linked woes of many a fiery change
Had purified, and chastened, and made
free.

Always there stood before him, night and day,

Of wayward vary-colored circumstance The imperishable presences serene, Colossal, without form, or sense, or sound, Dim shadows but unwaning presences Fourfacéd to four corners of the sky : And yet again, three shadows, fronting

Upheld, and ever hold aloft the cloud Which droops low-hung on either gate of life,

Both birth and death: he in the centre fixt,

Saw far on each side through the grated gates

Most pale and clear and lovely distances.
He often lying broad awake, and yet
Remaining from the body, and apart
In intellect and power and will, hath heard
Time flowing in the middle of the night,
And all things creeping to a day of doom.
How could ye know him? Ye were yet

within

The narrower circle: he had wellnigh reached

The last, which with a region of white flame,

Pure without heat, into a larger air Upburning. and an ether of black blue, Investeth and ingirds all other lives.

THE GRASSHOPPER.

I.

VOICE of the summer wind,
Joy of the summer plain,
Life of the summer hours,
Carol clearly, bound along.
No Tithon thou as poets feign
(Shame fall'em they are deaf and blind),
But an insect lithe and strong,
Bowing the seeded summer flowers.
Prove their falsehood and thy quarrel,
Vaulting on thine airy feet.
Clap thy shielded sides and carol,

Carol clearly, chirrup sweet.
Thou art a mailed warrior in youth and
strength complete;
Armed cap-a-pie
Full fair to see;
Unknowing fear,
Undreading loss,
A gallant cavalier,

Sans peur et sans reproche,
In sunlight and in shadow,
The Bayard of the meadow.

II.

I would dwell with thee, Merry grasshopper, Thou art so glad and free,

And as light as air;

Thou hast no sorrow or tears,
Thou hast no compt of years,
No withered immortality,
But a short youth sunny and free.
Carol clearly, bound along,
Soon thy joy is over,
A summer of loud song,

And slumbers in the clover.
What hast thou to do with evil
In thine hour of love and revel,

In thy heat of summer pride,
Pushing the thick roots aside
Of the singing floweréd grasses,
That brush thee with their
tresses?

What hast thou to do with evil,
Shooting, singing, ever springing
In and out the emerald glooms,
Ever leaping, ever singing,
Lighting on the golden blooms?

silken

LOVE, PRIDE, AND FORGETFUL

NESS.

The day, the diamonded night,

The echo, feeble child of sound, The heavy thunder's griding might, The herald lightning's starry bound, The vocal spring of bursting bloom,

The naked summer's glowing birth, The troublous autumn's sallow gloom, The hoarhead winter paving earth

With sheeny white, are full of strange Astonishment and boundless change. Each sun which from the centre flings Grand music and redundant fire, The burning belts, the mighty rings, The murm'rous planets' rolling choir, The globe-filled arch that, cleaving air, Lost in its own effulgence sleeps, The lawless comets as they glare,

And thunder through the sapphire deeps In wayward strength, and full of strange

Astonishment and boundless change.

LOST HOPE.

tomb,

Love labored honey busily.

I was the hive, and Love the bee,
My heart the honeycomb.

One very dark and chilly night

Pride came beneath and held a light.

The cruel vapors went through all,
Sweet Love was withered in his cell :
Pride took Love's sweets, and by a spell
Did change them into gall;
And Memory, though fed by Pride,
Did wax so thin on gall,

Awhile she scarcely lived at all.
What marvel that she died?

CHORUS

was mine:

THE TEARS OF HEAVEN.

HEAVEN weeps above the earth all night till morn,

In darkness weeps as all ashamed to weep,

VERY EARLY.

THE varied earth, the moving heaven,
The rapid waste of roving sea,
The fountain-pregnant mountains riven
To shapes of wildest anarchy,
By secret fire and midnight storms

That wander round their windy cones, The subtle life, the countless forms

Of living things, the wondrous tones

Of man and beast are full of strange
Astonishment and boundless change.

forlorn

LOVE AND SORROW.

O MAIDEN, fresher than the first green leaf With which the fearful springtide flecks the lea,

Weep not, Almeida, that I said to thee That thou hast half my heart, for bitter grief

Doth hold the other half in sovranty. Thou art my heart's sun in love's crystalline :

Yet on both sides at once thou canst not shine :

Thine is the bright side of my heart, and thine

My heart's day, but the shadow of my heart,

Issue of its own substance, my heart's night Thou canst not lighten even with thy light, All-powerful in beauty as thou art. Almeida, if my heart were substanceless, Then might thy rays pass through to

the other side,

So swiftly, that they nowhere would abide, But lose themselves in utter emptiness. Half-light, half-shadow, let my spirit sleep;

They never learned to love who never knew to weep.

TO A LADY SLEEPING.

O THOU whose fringed lids I gaze upon, Through whose dim brain the wingéd dreams are borne,

Unroof the shrines of clearest vision,
In honor of the silver-fleckéd morn;

thee;

light

Driven back the billow of the dreamful

heated eyne!

So their wan limbs no more might come between

The moon and the moon's reflex in the night,

thee.

We beat upon our aching hearts in rage; We cry for thee; we deem the world thy tomb.

As dwellers in lone planets look upon

light.

gloom,

Making their day dim, so we gaze on thee. Come, thou of many crowns, white-robéd love,

Oh! rend the veil in twain: all men adore thee;

Heaven crieth after thee; earth waiteth for thee;

Breathe on thy wingéd throne, and it shall move

In music and in light o'er land and sea.