Is there a leaf that greenly grows Is there a word, or jest, or game, With sad associate thoughts the same? Assumes a mournful sound. My brother gave that name to me No shade was on us then, save one Of chestnuts from the hill And through the wood our laugh did run ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower The birds around me hopp'd and play'd; The budding twigs spread out their fan, And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. 190 SONNET. From Heaven if this belief be sent, What man has made of man? Sonnet. WORDSWORTH. 'OME, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm. of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, The indifferent judge between the high and low; prease Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw O make in me those civil wars to cease : And if these things, as being thine by right, SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 192 THE SEMPSTRESS. Those eyes, for ever drooping, give Hast thou not cut that flounce enough, Ye graceful fingers, deftly sped! Oh! might I wind their skeins of thread, How blest the youth whom love shall bring, And happy stars embolden, To change the dome into a ring, The silver into golden!— Who'll steal some morning to her side, Who'll watch her sew her wedding gown, Who'll glean a tress, without a frown, Who'll taste those ripenings of the south, |