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Thou sing'st as if the god of wine
Had helped thee to a valentine ;
A song in mockery and despite
Of shades and dews and silent night,
And steady bliss, and all the loves
Now sleeping in these peaceful groves.

I heard a stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day ;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze :
He did not cease; but cooed—and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed :
He sang of love with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith and inward glee:
That was the song—the song for me!


Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid !
On me the chance-discover'd sight
Gleam'd like a vision of delight. —

I started— seeming to espy
The home and shelter'd bed,
The sparrow's dwelling which, hard by
My father's house, in wet or dry,
My sister Emmeline and I

Together visited.

She look'd at it as if the fear'd it;
Still wishing, dreading to be near it:
Such heart was in her, being then
A little prattler among men.
The blessing of my later years
Was with me when a boy;
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ;
And humble cares, and delicate fears ;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;

And love, and thought, and joy.


Intimations of Immortality


The child is father of the man ;
And I could wish my days to be
Bouni each to each by natural piety.

HERE was a time when meadow, grove, and

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Appareled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it has been of yore ;

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no

more !

The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose ;-

The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare ;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair ;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go, 'That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus fing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,–
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,

And all the earth is gay ;

Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday ;-

Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy


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Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make ; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ;
My heart is at your festival,

My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss I feel—I feel it all.

Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While earth herself is adorning,

This sweet May morning;
And the children are culling,

On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,

Fresh Aowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm :-

I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!

—But there's a tree, of many one, A single field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone :

The pansy at my feet

Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is Aled the visionary gleam ? Where is it now, the glory and the dream ?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting :
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar ;

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