One calm sweet smile, in that shadowy sphere, Far off from those hills that shine with day, To dimmer mountains and darker vales. There lie the chambers of guilty delight, Dear maid, in thy girlhood's opening flower, Thine eyes are closed, and over thy brow Pass thoughtful shadows and joyous gleams, Light-hearted maiden, oh, heed thy feet! So shalt thou come from the Land of Dreams, 20 30 40 THE BURIAL OF LOVE Two dark-eyed maids, at shut of day, With calm sad brows and raven hair, Bring flowers, they sang, bring flowers unblown, Close softly, fondly, while ye weep, His eyes, that death may seem like sleep, And make his grave where violets hide, Of cloudless skies and summer sing. Place near him, as ye lay him low, His waggish eyes in sport he wound. But we shall mourn him long, and miss The patter of his little feet, Sweet frowns and stammer'd phrases sweet; And graver looks, serene and high, Shall ache and ache-and tears will start. The bow, the band shall fall to dust, IO 20 30 Not thus his nobler part shall dwell, But he whom now we hide from men Shall break these clods, a form of light. Highest and nearest God's right hand. 40 'THE MAY-SUN SHEDS AN AMBER LIGHT' THE May-sun sheds an amber light On new-leaved woods and lawns between ; But she who, with a smile more bright, Welcomed and watched the springing green, Is in her grave, Low in her grave. The fair white blossoms of the wood Low in her grave. Upon the woodland's morning airs The small birds' mingled notes are flung; But she, whose voice, more sweet than theirs, Once bade me listen, while they sung, Is in her grave, Low in her grave. That music of the early year Brings tears of anguish to my eyes; My heart aches when the flowers appear; Within her grave, Low in her grave. ΤΟ 20 THE VOICE OF AUTUMN THERE comes, from yonder height, Where forest-leaves are bright, And fall, like flakes of light, To the ground. Mourn'st thou thy homeless state? The rest it is thy fate Not to find. Not on the mountain's breast, Not on the ocean's shore, By valleys, woods, and springs, Thou touchest with thy wings, And must leave. THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE WITHIN this lowly grave a Conqueror lies, To the great world unknown, Is graven here, and wild flowers, rising round, Here, in the quiet earth, they laid apart Of gentle womankind, Timidly shrinking from the breath of blame; 40 ΙΟ |