IF one could have that little head of hers
Painted upon a background of pale gold,
Such as the Tuscan's early art prefers!
No shade encroaching on the matchless mould
Of those two lips, which should be opening soft
In the pure profile.
THE bonnie shadow flies, and in its place
The chilly substance steals to our embrace.
I swore he should be stately, dark, and tall,—
His hair was fiery-red, and he was small!
GRACIOUS to all; but where her love was due,
So fast, so faithful, loyal, and so true,
That a bold hand as soon might hope to force
The lights of heaven, as change her course,
So wondrous in their working, giving voice
To thoughts that lie beyond the grasp of words,
To feelings deep below the fount of tears;
Are they too echoes of a nobler song,
The spheral music of the circling stars,
The anthems of the angels?
BLASPHEME not thou thy sacred life, nor turn
O'er joys that God hath for a season lent,
Perchance to try thy spirit, and its bent.
Effeminate soul and base! weakly to mourn ;
There lies no desert in the land of life,
For e'en that tract that barrenest doth seem,
Laboured of thee in faith and hope, shall teem
With heavenly harvests and rich gatherings rife.
LIFE is only bright when it proceedeth
Towards a truer, deeper Life above;
Human Love is sweetest when it leadeth
To a more divine and perfect Love.
I LOVED her well, my lord:
A woman mixed of such fine elements,
That were all virtue and religion dead,
She'd make them newly, being what she was.
I FOUND a scorn unwise for things ignoble,
A power of silent wrath consuming wrong.
A way of digging deep below the sunshine,
A doubt of self and trust in other men ;
I said, "These are thy follies."
THE truths that everybody sees,
Dear friend, let's rather think on these
Than dwell upon the differences.
O HAPPY Husband!-happy Wife no less!
In perfect mutual trust and happiness.
Whatever joys await the Blest above,
No boon below like happy wedded love.
IT is not long, since these two eyes beheld
A mightie Prince, of most renowned race,
Whom England high in count of honour held,
Of greatest ones he, greatest in his place,
Sate in the bosom of his Soveraine,
And Right and Loyall did his word maintain.
While thou wast here thou didst a glorious work,
Thy silent life sent forth a nobler strain
Than solemn anthem from deep organ swell,
Or choir of harpstrings swept by angel hands:
Friend of the poor and helpless, fare thee well!
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