Where we have seen the waving corn-fields bend, Not in the well-remembered hall of mirth, There we shall meet no more. Not in the haunts of busy strife, which bind Exhaust their glories on a barren soil, Yet mourn not thus: in realms of changeless gladness, STANLEY. INVOCATION TO NIGHT. COME, solemn Night, and spread thy pall And hang along thy vaulted hall The star-lights of eternity; Thy beacons, beautiful and bright- That guide the parted spirit's flight Come for the evening glories fade, Quenched in the ocean's depths profound; Come with thy solitude and shade, Thy silence and thy sound; Awake the deep and lonely lay From wood and stream, of saddening tone; The harmonies unheard by day, The music all thine own! And with thy starry eyes that weep For while the mighty orbs of fire (So wildly bright they seem to live) Feel not the beauty they inspire, Nor see the light they give; Even I, an atom of the earth, MALCOLM. NIGHT. O NIGHT! how beautiful thy golden dress, So bright, so glorious in thy solitude! That is thy temple, Lord! 'tis worthy thee, And in it thou hast many a lamp suspended, That dazzles not, but lights resplendently; And there thy court is there thy court, attended By myriad, myriad messengers-the song Of countless and melodious harps is heard, Sweeter than rill, or stream, or vernal bird, The dark and melancholy woods among. And golden worlds in that wide temple glow, And roll in brightness, in their orbits vast, And there the future mingles with the past, An unbeginning, an unending NOW, BOWRING. WELCOME TO MAY. COME, gentle May! Come with thy robe of flowers, Come with thy sun and sky, thy clouds and showers; Come, wondrous May! For, at the bidding of thy magic wand, They spring, as spring the Persian maids to hail Come, vocal May! Come with thy train, that high On some fresh branch pour out their melody; Sit perched in some lone glen, on echo calling, Come, sunny May! Come with thy laughing beam, What time the lazy mist melts on the stream, Come, beautiful May! Like youth and loveliness, The month all love; oh, come in thy full dress, To the bright eye and the glad heart appear Yet let me, sweetest May! Let thy fond votaries see, As fade thy beauties, all the vanity Of this world's pomp; then teach, that though decay In his short winter bury beauty's frame, In fairer worlds the soul shall break his sway, Another spring shall bloom, eternal and the same. LAWRENCE. THE SEA. FROM shore to shore the waters sleep, Anon, across the glassy bay, The catspaw gusts come creeping; The surge once more talks round the shore, |