Of pea-green paroquets 'twixt neighbor trees, Like missives and sweet morning inquiries From green to green, in green-live oaks' round heads, But alway tap at doors and gad about- Athwart straight sunshine weave cross-threads of song, High roofs of temples shafted tall with pines Green, grateful mangroves where the sand-beach shines- All riches, goods and braveries never told Of earth, sun, air and heaven—now I hold And ye myself; yea, lastly, Thee, God, whom my roads all reach, howe'er they run, Thee in my soul, my soul in Thee, I feel, Self of my self. Lo, through my sense doth steal Of all existence that hath been or is, Of all strange haps that men miscall of chance, Nor him that's after-nay, through this still air, That e'er my Father fathered. Oh, to me All questions solve in this tranquillity: E'en this dark matter, once so dim, so drear, TAMPA, FLORIDA, 1877. TO MY CLASS: ON CERTAIN FRUITS AND FLOWERS SENT ME IN SICKNESS. IF spicy-fringéd pinks that blush and pale With passions of perfume,-if violets blue Wherefrom the blood of beauty doth exhale Grave raptures round,—if leaves of green as new Nor dreamed of Arcite nor of Palamon,— If fruits that riped in some more riotous play Of wind and beam than stirs our temperate sun,— If these the products be of love and pain, Oft may I suffer, and you love, again. BALTIMORE, Christmas, 1880. ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL. FINE-TISSUED as her finger-tips, and white As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize, Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright -The queen's no finer; rich (though gossamer) How rich that him she'll come to; thus men see, BALTIMORE, 1881. IRELAND. WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING THE IRISH FAMINE, 1880. HEARTSOME Ireland, winsome Ireland, Charmer of the sun and sea, Bright beguiler of old anguish, How could Famine frown on thee? As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward, And our wintry western headlands Thus the main and cordial current BALTIMORE, 1880. |