Calm after storm.

29. My heart, tho' widow'd, may not rest
Quite in the love of what is gone,

But seeks to beat in time with one
That warms another living breast.

30. Ah, take the imperfect gift I bring,
Knowing the primrose yet is dear,
The primrose of the later year,
As not unlike to that of Spring.

LXXXVI.

1. Sweet after showers, ambrosial air,
That rollest from the gorgeous gloom
Of evening over brake and bloom
And meadow, slowly breathing bare

2. The round of space, and rapt below
Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood,
And shadowing down the hornèd flood
In ripples, fan my brows and blow

3. The fever from my cheek, and sigh.

4.

The full new life that feeds thy breath
Throughout my frame, till Doubt and
Death,

Ill brethren, let the fancy fly

From belt to belt of crimson seas

On leagues of odor streaming far,
To where in yonder orient star

A hundred spirits whisper "Peace."

LXXXVII.

Reminiscences 1. I past beside the reverend walls

of college

days.

In which of old I wore the gown;
I roved at random thro' the town,

And saw the tumult of the halls;

2. And heard once more in college fanes
The storm their high-built organs
make,

And thunder-music, rolling, shake
The prophet blazon'd on the panes;

3. And caught once more the distant shout, The measured pulse of racing oars Among the willows; paced the shores And many a bridge, and all about

4. The same gray flats again, and felt

The same, but not the same; and last
Up that long walk of limes I past
To see the rooms in which he dwelt.

5. Another name was on the door:

I linger'd; all within was noise

Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys That crash'd the glass and beat the floor;

6. Where once we held debate, a band

Of youthful friends, on mind and art, And labor, and the changing mart, And all the framework of the land;

7. When one would aim an arrow fair,

But send it slackly from the string;
And one would pierce an outer ring,
And one an inner, here and there;

8. And last the master-bowman, he,
Would cleave the mark.

A willing ear

We lent him. Who, but hung to hear

The rapt oration flowing free

9. From point to point, with power and grace And music in the bounds of law,

To those conclusions when we saw

The God within him light his face,

To the nightingale: joy in grief.

His thought
goes back and
dwells happily
on his life
with Arthur
at Somersby.

10. And seem to lift the form, and glow
In azure orbits heavenly-wise;
And over those ethereal eyes
The bar of Michael Angelo?

LXXXVIII.

1. Wild bird, whose warble, liquid sweet, Rings Eden thro' the budded quicks, O tell me where the senses mix,

O tell me where the passions meet,

2. Whence radiate: fierce extremes employ
Thy spirits in the darkening leaf,
And in the midmost heart of grief
Thy passion clasps a secret joy:

3. And I-my harp would prelude woe-
I cannot all command the strings;

The glory of the sum of things
Will flash along the chords and go.

LXXXIX.

1. Witch-elms that counterchange the floor
Of this flat lawn with dusk and bright,
And thou, with all thy breadth and
height

Of foliage, towering sycamore;

2. How often, hither wandering down,

My Arthur found your shadows fair,
And shook to all the liberal air
The dust and din and steam of town!

3. He brought an eye for all he saw;
He mixt in all our simple sports;
They pleased him, fresh from brawling
courts

And dusty purlieus of the law.