THE SICK MAN AND THE

BIRDS

PHILOMELA.

Alas for me! a dry desire
Is all my song,—a waste of fire
That will not fade nor fail;

To me, dim shapes of ancient crime
Moan through the windy ways of time,
"Wail! wail!"

ÆGROTUS.

This is the sick man's song,-
Mournful, in sooth, and fit;
Unrest that cries "How long!'
And the Night answers it.

1

A FLOWER SONG OF ANGIOLA

DOWN

where the garden grows,

Gay as a banner,

Spake to her mate the Rose

After this manner :-
"We are the first of flowers,
Plain-land or hilly,

All reds and whites are ours,
Are they not, Lily?"

Then to the flowers I spake,

"Watch ye my Lady Gone to the leafy brake,

Silent and shady;

When I am near to her,

Lily, she knows;

How I am dear to her,

Look to it, Rose."

Straightway the Blue-bell stooped,

Paler for pride,

Down where the Violet drooped,

Shy, at her side :—

Therewith I laughed aloud,
Spake on this wise,
"O little flowers so proud,

Have ye seen eyes

Change through the blue in them,

Change till the mere
Loving that grew in them

Turned to a tear?

"Flowers, ye are bright of hue,

Delicate, sweet;

Flowers, and the sight of you

Lightens men's feet;

Yea, but her worth to me,

Flowerets, even,

Sweetening the earth to me,
Sweeteneth heaven.

"This, then, O Flowers, I sing;

God, when He made ye,

Made yet a fairer thing

Making my Lady ;—
Fashioned her tenderly,

Giving all weal to her ;—

Girdle ye slenderly,

Go to her, kneel to her,

"Saying, 'He sendeth us, He the most dutiful,

Meetly he endeth us,

Maiden most beautiful!

Let us get rest of you, Sweet, in your breast ;Die, being prest of you, Die, being blest."'"

A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN

A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN

FLOWE

"Val, unica!"

LOWERS,-that have died upon my Sweet, Lulled by the rhythmic dancing beat Of her young bosom under you,— Now will I show you such a thing As never, through thick buds of Spring, Betwixt the daylight and the dew, The Bird whose being no man knowsThe voice that waketh all night throughTells to the Rose.

For lo, a garden-place I found,
Well filled of leaves, and stilled of sound,
Well flowered, with red fruit marvellous;
And 'twixt the shining trunks would flit
Tall knights and silken maids, or sit

With faces bent and amorous ;-
There, in the heart thereof, and crowned
With woodbine and amaracus,
My Love I found.

Alone she walked,-ah, well I wis,
My heart leapt up for joy of this !—
Then when I called to her her name,-