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TO THE RAINBOW. | For, faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span; TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky | Nor lets the type grow pale with age, When storms prepare to part,

That first spoke peace to man. I ask not proud philosophy

To teach me what thou art.
Still seem as to my childhood's sight,

A midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight

Now overhead a rainbow, bursting Betwixt the carth and heaven.


The scattering clouds, shone, spanCan all that optics teach unfold

ning the dark sea. Thy form to please me so,

Resting its bright base on the quivAs when I dreamed of gems and

ering blue: gold

And all within its arch appeared Hid in thy radiant bow ?

to be

Clearer than that without; and its And yet, fair bow, no fabling

wide hue dreams,

Waxed broad and waving, like a But words of the Most Iligh,

banner free, Have toll wly first thy robe of Then changed like to a bow that's beanis

bent, and then Was woven in the sky.

Forsook the dim eyes of those ship

wrecked men. When o'er the green, undeluged earth

It changed, of course; a heavenly Heaven's covenant thou didst

chameleon, shine,

The airy child of vapor and the How came the world's gray fathers

sm, forth

Brought forth in purple, cradled in To watch thy sacred sign!


Baptized in molten gold, and And when its yellow lustre smiled

swathed in dui, O'er mountains yet uitrod,

Glittering like crescents o’er a Turk's Each mother held aloft her child

pavilion, To bless the bow of God.

And blending every color into one.

BYRox. Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,

The first-made anthem rang
On earth, delivered from the deep,

And the first poet sang.

I sift the snow on the mountains The earth to thee her incense yields,

below, The lark thy welcome sings,

And their great pines groan aghast; When, glittering in the freshened And all the night 'tis my pillow fields,

white, The snowy mushroom springs. While I sleep in the arms of the

blast. How glorious is thy girdle cast

O’er mountain, tower, and town, That orbed maiden, with white fire Or mirrored in the ocean vast,

laden, A thousand fathoms down!

Whom mortals call the moon,

Glides glimmering o'er my fleeceAs fresh in yon horizon dark,

like floor, As young thy beauties seen,

By the midnight breezes strewn; As when the eagle from the ark

And wherever the beat of her uniseen First sported in thy beam.



Which only the angels hear,

Till the warm sun pities its pain, May have broken the woof of my | And to the skies exhales it back tent's thin roof,

again. The stars peep behind her and peer;

So the soul, that drop, that ray, And I laugh to see them whirl and Of the clear fountain of eternal

flee, Like a swarm of golden bees,

Could it within the human flower When I willen the rent in my wind

be seen, built tent,

Remembering still its former Till the calm rivers, lakes, and

height, seas,

Shuns the sweet leaves, and blosLike strips of the sky fallen through

soms green, me on high

And, recollecting its own light, Are each paved with the moon and Does, in its pure and circling these.

thoughts, express

The greater heaven in a heaven less. I am the daughter of earth and In how coy a figure wound, water,

Every way it turns away, An the nursling of the sky;

So the world excluding round, I pass through the pores of the Yet receiving in the day, ocean and shores;

Dark beneath, but bright above, I chance, but I cannot die.

Here disdaining, there in love. For after the rain, when with never How loose and easy hence to go; a stain,

How girt and ready to ascend; The pavilion of heaven is bare,

Moving but on a point below, And the winds and swubeams, with It all about does upwards bend. their convex gleams,

Such did the manna's sacred dew disBuild up the blue dome of air,

til, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, White and entire, although congealed And out of the caverns of rain,

and chill; Like a child from the womb, like a Congealed on earth; but does, disghost from the tomb,

solving, run I arise and unbuild it again.

Into the glories of the almighty sun. SHELLEY.



SEE how the orient dew,
Shed from the bosom of the morn

Into the blowing roses,
(Yet careless of its mansion new,
For the clear region where 'twas

Round in itself encloses
And, in its little globe's extent,
Frames, as it can, its native element.
Ilow it the purple flower does

Scarce touching where it lies;
But gazing back upon the skies,
Shines with a mournful light,

Like its own tear,
Because so long divided from the

Restless it rolls, and insecure,

Trembling, lest it grow impure;

LIGIIT-WINGED Smoke! Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward

Lark without song, and messenger

of dawni, Cireling above the hamlets as thy

nest; Or else, departing dream, and shad

owy forin Of midnight vision, gathering up thy

skirts; By night star-veiling, and by day Darkening the light and blotting out

the sun; Go thou, my incense, upward from

this hearth, And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.



And when I was a child, I laid
My hands upon my breast, and prayed,

and sank to slumbers deep: Childlike as then I lie to-night, And watch my lonely cabin-light.

Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the daisied banks and

And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers, –
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men's fields.


Each movement of the swaving lamp

Shows how the vessel reels: As o’er her (leck the billows tramp, And all her timbers strain and cramp

With every shock she feels, It starts and shudders, while it burns, And in its hinged socket turns.


Now swinging slow and slanting low,

It almost level lies;
And yet I know, while to and fro
I watch the seeming pendule go

With restless fall and rise,
The steady shaft is still upright,
Poising its little globe of light.

Woof of the fen, ethereal gauze,
Woven of Nature's richest stuffs,
Visible heat, air-water, and dry sea,
Last conquest of the eye;
Toil of the day displayed, sun-dust,
Aerial surf upon the shores of earth,
Ethereal estuary, frith of light,
Breakers of air, billows of heat,
Fine summer spray on inland seas;
Bird of the sun, transparent-winged,
Owlet of noon, soft-pinioned,
From heath or stubble rising without

song. Establish thy serenity o'er the fields.


O hand of God! O lamp of peace!

() promise of my soul! Though weal, and tossed, and ill at

Amid the roar of smiting seas,

The ship's convulsive roll,
I own with love and tender awe
Yon perfect type of faith and law.

A heavenly trust my spirit calms,

My soul is filled with light: The Ocean sings his solemn psalms, The wild winds chant: I cross my

palms, Happy as if to-night Under the cottage roof again I heard the soothing summer rain.


AT SEA. The night is made for cooling shade,

For silence, and for sleep;




* The privates of man's heart

They speken and sound in his ear
As though they loud winds were." - GOWER.

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