With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine

In one another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother:

And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea, What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

MUTABILITY

The flower that smiles to-day

To-morrow dies;

All that we wish to stay,
Tempts and then flies;

What is this world's delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.

Virtue, how frail it is!

Friendship, too rare!

Love, how it sells poor bliss

For proud despair!

But we, though soon they fall,

Survive their joy, and all

Which ours we call.

Whilst skies are blue and bright,

Whilst flowers are gay,

Whilst eyes that change ere night

Make glad the day;

Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou--and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.

SONG

Rarely, rarely comest thou,

Spirit of Delight!

Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?

Many a weary night and day
"Tis since thou art fled away.

How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.

Spirit false! thou hast forgot

All but those who need thee not.

As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismayed;

Even the sighs of grief

Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear.

Let me set my mournful ditty

To a merry measure,

Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure,

Pity then will cut away

Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight!

The fresh Earth in new leaves drest, And the starry night;

Autumn evening, and the morn

When the golden mists are born.

I love snow, and all the forms

Of the radiant frost:

I love waves, and winds, and storms,

Everything almost

Which is Nature's, and may be

Untainted by man's misery.

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society

As is quiet, wise and good;

Between thee and me

What difference? but thou dost possess
The things I seek, not love them less.

I love Love-though he has wings,

And like light can flee,

But above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee

Thou art love and life! O come,

Make once more my heart thy home.

GOOD-NIGHT.

« Good-Night! » No, love! the night is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,

Then it will be good night.

How were the night without thee good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?
Be it not said, thought, understood-
Then it will be good night.

The hearts that on each other beat
From evening close to morning light
Have nights as good as they are sweet,
But never say good-night ».

TIME

Unfathomable Sea, whose waves are years!
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Are brackish with the salt of human tears!
Thou shoreless flood which in thy ebb and flow
Claspest the limits of mortality,

And, sick of prey yet howling on for more,
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore!
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm,
Who shall put forth on thee,

Unfathomable Sea?

PENSIERI E SENTENZE VARIE

The great secret of morals is love; or a going out of our nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own.

The cultivation of poetry is never more to be desired than at periods when, from an excess of the selfish and calculating principle, the accumulation of the materials of external life exceed the quantity of the power of assimilating them to the internal laws of human nature. The body has then become too unwieldy for that which animates it.

Materialism is a seducing system to young and superficial minds. It allows its disciples to talk, and dispenses them from thinking.

* *

Among true and real friends, all is common.

The man who has fewest bodily wants approaches nearest to the Divine Nature.

Superstition, of whatever kind, whether
earthly or divine, has hitherto been
the weight which clogged man to earth,
and prevented his genius from soaring
aloft amid its native skies.

All of us who are worth anything, spend
our manhood in unlearning the follies, or
expiating the mistakes, of our youth.

All religions are good which make men good; and the way that a person ought to prove that his method of worshipping God is best, is for himself to be better than all other men.

Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.

It is impossible to compose except under the strong excitement of an assurance of finding sympathy in what you write.

Most wretched men

Are cradled into poetry by wrong:

They learn in suffering what they teach in song,

Obedience,

Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth,

Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanized automaton.

Every heart contains perfection's germ.

How vainly seek

The selfish for that happiness denied

To aught but virtue!