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SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear, their dwelling-place.
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A heart whose love is innocent!
IF THAT HIGH WORLD
IF that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherish'd heart be fond, The
eye the same, except in tears— How welcome those untrodden spheres !
How sweet this very hour to die! To soar from earth, and find all fears
Lost in thy light-Eternity ! It must be so : 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink; And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares;
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !
O! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM
O! SNATCH'D away in beauty's bloom,
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch ! as if her step disturb'd the dead !
That Death nor heeds nor hears distress;
Or make one mourner weep the less !
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING
WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind ?
But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
By steps each planet's heavenly way?
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recall :
So darkly of departed years,
And all. that was, at once appears.
Its eye shall roll through chaos back ;
The spirit trace its rising track.
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
It lives all passionless and pure :
Its years as moments shall endure.
O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly,
Forgetting what it was to die.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
STANZAS FOR MUSIC
With a magic like thee;
Is thy sweet voice to me:
Her bright chain o'er the deep;
As an infant's asleep:
SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE A ROVING
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
By the light of the moon.
STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD
Oy, talk not to me of a name great in story;
What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is
wrinkled ? 'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled. Then away with all such from the head that is hoary ! What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory!
—if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.