The rose is weeping for her love,
The nightingale ;

And he is flying fast above,

To her he will not fail.

Already golden eve appears;

He wings his way along;
Ah! look, he comes to kiss her tears,
And soothe her with his song.

The moon in pearly light may steep
The still blue air;

The rose hath ceas'd to droop and weep,
For lo! her love is there;

He sings to her, and o'er the trees

She hears his sweet notes swim ; The world may weary; she but sees Her love, and hears but him.

LUCIFER AND ELISSA

Elissa. Nigh one year ago, watch'd that large bright star, much where 't is now:

Time hath not touch'd its everlasting lightning,

Nor dimm'd the glorious glances of its eye ; Nor passion clouded it, nor any star

am;

A power, an ill which doth outbalance being.
Behold life's tyrant evil, peer of good,
The great infortune of the universe.
Am I not more than mortal in my form?
Millions of years have circled round my
brow,

Like worlds upon their centres, - still I
live,
And age but
presses with a halo's weight.
This single arm hath dash'd the light of
heaven;

This one hand dragg'd the angels from their thrones :

Am I not worthy to have lov'd thee, lady? Thou mortal model of all heavenliness! Yet all these spoils have I abandon'd, cower'd

My powers, my course becalm'd, and stoop'd from the high

Destruction of the skies for thee, and him Who loving thee is with thee lost, both lost. Thou hast but serv'd the purpose of the

fiend;

Art but the gilded vessel of selfish sin Whose poison hath drunken made a soul to death:

Thou, useless now. I come to bid thee die.

Elissa. Wicked, impure, tormentor of the world,

I knew thee not. Yet doubt not thou it was Who darkenedst for a moment with base aim

God to evade, and shun in this world, man, Love's heart; with selfish end alone redeeming

Me from the evil, the death-fright. Take,

nathless,

One human soul's forgiveness, such the sum Of thanks I feel for heaven's great grace

that thou

From the overflowings of love's cup mayst quench

Thy breast's broad burning desert, and fertilize

Aught may be in it, that boasts one root of good.

Lucifer. It is doubtless sad to feel one day our last.

Elissa. I knew, forewarn'd, I was dy- | ing. God is good.

The heavens grow darker as they purer

grow,

And both, as we approach them; so near death

The soul grows darker and diviner hourly.
Could I love less, I should be happier now.
But always 't is to that mad extreme,
death

Alone appears the fitting end to bliss
Like that my spirit presseth for.
Lucifer.
Thy death
Gentle shall be as e'er hath been thy life.
I'll hurt thee not, for once upon this breast,
Fell, like a snowflake on a fever'd lip,
Thy love. Thy soul shall, dreamlike, pass
from thee.

One instant, and thou wakest in heaven

As ocean racing fast and fierce to reach Some headland, ere the moon with maddening ray

Forestall him, and rebellious tides excite To vain strife, nor of the innocent skiff that thwarts

His path, aught heeds, but with dispiteous foam

Wrecks deathful, I, made hasty by time's

end

Impending, thus fill up fate's tragic form. A word could kill her. See, she hath gone to heaven.

A SONG OF FAREWELL

THE Spring will come again, dear friends,
The swallow o'er the sea;

The bud will hang upon the bough,
The blossom on the tree;

And many a pleasant sound will rise to greet her on her way,

The voice of bird, and leaf, and stream, and warm winds in their play; Ah! sweet the airs that round her breathe! and bountiful is she.

She bringeth all the things that fresh, and sweet, and hopeful be;

She scatters promise on the earth with open hand and free,

But not for me, my friends,

But not for me!

Summer will come again, dear friends,
Low murmurs of the bee

Will rise through the long sunny day
Above the flowery lea;

And deep the dreamy woods will own the slumbrous spell she weaves,

And send a greeting, mix'd with sighs, through all their quivering leaves. Oh, precious are her glowing gifts! and plenteous is she,

She bringeth all the lovely things that bright and fragrant be,

She scatters fulness on the Earth with lavish hand and free,

But not for me, my friends,
But not for me!

Autumn will come again, dear friends,
His spirit-touch shall be

With gold upon the harvest-field,
With crimson on the tree;

LIGHT

THOг art the joy of age:

He passeth o'er the silent woods, they wither at his breath,

Slow fading in a still decay, a change that is not Death.

Oh! rich and liberal, and wise, and provident is he !

He taketh to his garner-house the things that ripen'd be,

He gathereth his store from Earth, and silently

And he will gather me, my friends,
He will gather me!

TO CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
THOU hast fill'd me a golden cup
With a drink divine that glows,
With the bloom that is flowing up
From the heart of the folded rose.
The grapes in their amber glow,

And the strength of the blood-red wine,
All mingle and change and flow
In this golden cup of thine,

With the scent of the curling vine,

With the balm of the rose's breath, -
For the voice of love is thine,

And thine is the Song of Death!

Thy sun is dear when long the shadow falls.

Forth to its friendliness the old man crawls, And, like the bird hung out in his poor cage

To gather song from radiance, in his chair
Sits by the door; and sitteth there
His soul within him, like a child that lies
Half dreaming, with half-open eyes,
At close of a long afternoon in summer-
High ruins round him, ancient ruins, where
The raven is almost the only comer;
Half dreams, half broods, in wonderment
At thy celestial descent,

Through rifted loops alighting on the gold
That waves its bloom in many an airy rent:
So dreams the old man's soul, that is not
old,

But sleepy 'mid the ruins that enfold.

What soul-like changes, evanescent

moods,

Upon the face of the still passive earth,
Its hills, and fields, and woods,

Thou with thy seasons and thy hours art ever calling forth!

Even like a lord of music bent
Over his instrument,

Who gives to tears and smiles an equal birth!

When clear as holiness the morning ray Casts the rock's dewy darkness at its feet,

Mottling with shadows all the mountain gray;

When, at the hour of sovereign noon,
Infinite silent cataracts sheet
Shadowless through the air of thunder-
breeding June;

And when a yellower glory slanting passes 'Twixt longer shadows o'er the meadow

grasses;

No mood of mind, no melody of soul,
But lies within thy silent soft control.

Of operative single power,
And simple unity the one emblem,

Yet all the colors that our passionate eyes devour,

In rainbow, moonbow, or in opal gem,
Are the melodious descant of divided thee.
Lo thee in yellow sands! lo thee
In the blue air and sea!

In the green corn, with scarlet poppies lit,
Thy half souls parted, patient thou dost sit.
Lo thee in speechless glories of the west!
Lo thee in dewdrop's tiny breast!

Thee on the vast white cloud that floats away,

Bearing upon its skirt a brown moon-ray !
Regent of color, thou dost fling
Thy overflowing skill on everything!
The thousand hues and shades

flowers

upon

the

BABY

WHERE did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ?

Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand strok'd it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?

I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-corner'd smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you ? God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I ar here.

SONG

I DREAM'D that I woke from a dream,
And the house was full of light;
At the window two angel Sorrows
Held back the curtains of night.

The door was wide, and the house Was full of the morning wind; At the door two armed warders Stood silent, with faces blind.

And hover round it murmuring
Like bees at honey-time.

Upon a little girl I look
Whose pureness makes me sad;
I read as in a holy book,
I grow in secret glad.

It seems my darling comes to me
With something I have lost
Over life's toss'd and troubled sea,
On some celestial coast.

I think of her when spirit-bow'd ; A glory fills the place!

Like sudden light on swords, the proud
Smile flashes in my face:
And others see, in passing by,

But cannot understand
The vision shining in mine eye,

My strength of heart and hand.

That grave content and touching grace
Bring tears into mine eyes;
She makes my heart a holy place
Where hymns and incense rise.
Such calm her gentle spirit brings
As, smiling overhead,
White-statued saints with peaceful wings
Shadow the sleeping dead.

Our Christie is no rosy Grace

With beauty all may see,
But I have never felt a face

Grow half so dear to me.
No curling hair about her brows,
Like many merry girls;
Well, straighter to my heart it goes,
And round it curls and curls.

Meek as the wood anemone glints

To see if heaven be blue,

Is my pale flower with her sweet tints Of heaven shining through.