1877. Sing flutes of harvest But when comes Winter And red fire roaring And ingle warm,— Sing first sad going Of friends that part; Then sing glad meeting,- W TO A GREEK GIRL ITH breath of thyme and bees that hum, Across the years you seem to come,— Across the years with nymph-like head, And wind-blown brows unfilleted; A girlish shape that slips the bud In lines of unspoiled symmetry; A girlish shape that stirs the blood With pulse of Spring, Autonoë! Where'er you pass,-where'er you go, Not wholly dead!—Autonoë! How sweet with you on some green sod To watch across the stricken chords In vain,—in vain! The years divide : From under-lands of Memory,- A dream of Form in days of Thought,A dream,-a dream, Autonoë! 1875. THE SICK MAN AND THE BIRDS SPRING ÆGROTUS. PRING,—art thou come, O Spring! How hast thou heart to sing, O Spring, with all thy birds? MERULA. I sing for joy to see again The merry leaves along the lane, And look, my love upon the bough ! "Pipe! pipe!" ÆGROTUS. Ah! weary is the sun : Love is an idle thing; |