DREAM-LAND.

WHE

HERE sunless rivers weep Their waves into the deep, She sleeps a charmèd sleep :

Awake her not.

Led by a single star,

She came from very far

To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,

For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.

Through sleep, as through a veil,

She sees the sky look pale,

And hears the nightingale

That sadly sings.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest

Shed over brow and breast;

Her face is toward the west,

The purple land.

She cannot see the grain

Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain

Upon her hand.

Rest, rest, forevermore

Upon a mossy shore ;

Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:

Sleep that no pain shall wake,

Night that no morn shall break,
Till joy shall overtake

Her perfect peace.

WH

AT HOME.

WHEN I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house I passed the door, and saw my friends

Feasting beneath green orange-boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each.

I listened to their honest chat :

Said one: 66 To-morrow we shall be Plod plod along the featureless sands, And coasting miles and miles of sea." Said one: "Before the turn of tide We will achieve the eyrie-seat." "To-morrow shall be like

Said one:

To-day, but much more sweet."

"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way :
"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
"To-morrow and to-day," they cried;
I was of yesterday.

I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the table-cloth;
I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad

To stay, and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.

G

FROM SUNSET TO STAR RISE.

O from me, summer friends, and tarry not:

I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, A silly sheep benighted from the fold, A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,

Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold; Lest you with me should shiver on the wold, Athirst and hungering on a barren spot.

For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge,

I live alone, I look to die alone:

Yet sometimes when a wind sighs through the sedge,
Ghosts of my buried years and friends come back,

My heart goes sighing after swallows flown
On sometime summer's unreturning track.

I

LOVE FROM THE NORTH.

HAD a love in soft south land,

Beloved through April far in May;

He waited on my lightest breath,
And never dared to say me nay.

He saddened if my cheer was sad,

But gay he grew

if I was gay;

We never differed on a hair,

My yes his yes, my nay his nay.

The wedding hour was come, the aisles

Were flushed with sun and flowers that day;

I pacing balanced in my thoughts, —
"It's quite too late to think of nay.”

My bridegroom answered in his turn,
Myself had almost answered "yea":
When through the flashing nave I heard
A struggle and resounding "nay."

Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear, But I stood high who stood at bay: "And if I answer yea, fair Sir,

What man art thou to bar with nay?"

He was a strong man from the north, Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray: "Put yea by for another time

In which I will not say thee nay."

He took me in his strong white arms,
He bore me on his horse away
O'er crag, morass, and hair-breadth pass,
But never asked me yea or nay.

He made me fast with book and bell,
With links of love he makes me stay ;

Till now I've neither heart nor power
Nor will nor wish to say him nay.