When, like a sea-shell with its sea-born strain,

My soul aye rang with music of the lyre, And my heart shed its lore as leaves their dew

A honey dew, and throve on what it shed. All things I lov'd; but song I lov'd in chief.

Imagination is the air of mind,

Judgment its earth and memory its main, Passion its fire. I was at home in heaven. Swiftlike, I liv'd above; once touching earth,

The meanest thing might master me: long wings

But baffled. Still and still I harp'd on song.

Oh! to create within the mind is bliss, And shaping forth the lofty thought, or lovely,

We seek not, need not heaven: and when the thought,

Cloudy and shapeless, first forms on the

Men who have forged gods-utter'd — made them pass:

Sons of the sons of God, who in olden days Did leave their passionless heaven for earth and woman,

Brought an immortal to a mortal breast, And, rainbowlike the sweet earth clasping, left

A bright precipitate of soul, which lives Ever, and through the lines of sullen men, The dumb array of ages, speaks for all ; Flashing by fits, like fire from an enemy's front;

Whose thoughts, like bars of sunshine in shut rooms,

Mid gloom, all glory, win the world to light;

Who make their very follies like their souls,

And like the young moon with a ragged edge,

Still in their imperfection beautiful; Whose weaknesses are lovely as their strengths,

Like the white nebulous matter between

Elissa. Wicked, impure, tormentor of the world,

I knew thee not. Yet doubt not thou it was Who darkenedst for a moment with base aim

God to evade, and shun in this world, man, Love's heart; with selfish end alone redeeming

Me from the evil, the death-fright. Take, nathless,

One human soul's forgiveness, such the sum Of thanks I feel for heaven's great grace that thou

From the overflowings of love's cup mayst quench

Thy breast's broad burning desert, and fertilize

Aught may be in it, that boasts one root of good.

Lucifer. It is doubtless sad to feel one day our last.

Elissa. I knew, forewarn'd, I was dying. God is good.

The heavens grow darker as they purer grow,

And both, as we approach them; so near death

The soul grows darker and diviner hourly.
Could I love less, I should be happier now.
But always 't is to that mad extreme,
death

Alone appears the fitting end to bliss
Like that my spirit presseth for.
Lucifer.
Thy death
Gentle shall be as e'er hath been thy life.
I'll hurt thee not, for once upon this breast,
Fell, like a snowflake on a fever'd lip,
Thy love. Thy soul shall, dreamlike, pass
from thee.

One instant, and thou wakest in heaven

I

This petty controversy distracts. He comes, say, but never shalt thou view him, living. Elissa. But I will, will see him, and while I am alive. I hear him. He is come. Lucifer.

The ends of things Are urgent. Still, to this mortuary deed Reluctant, fix I death's black seal. He's here!

Elissa. I hear him; he is come; it is he; it is he !

Lucifer. Die graciously, as ever thou hast liv'd;

Die, thou shalt never look upon him again.
Elissa. My love! haste, Festus! I am
dying.
Lucifer.

Dead!

As ocean racing fast and fierce to reach Some headland, ere the moon with madden

A SONG OF FAREWELL

THE Spring will come again, dear friends,
The swallow o'er the sea;

The bud will hang upon the bough,
The blossom on the tree;

And many a pleasant sound will rise to greet her on her way,

The voice of bird, and leaf, and stream, and warm winds in their play; Ah! sweet the airs that round her breathe! and bountiful is she,

She bringeth all the things that fresh, and sweet, and hopeful be;

She scatters promise on the earth with open hand and free,

But not for me, my friends,
But not for me!

Summer will come again, dear friends,
Low murmurs of the bee

Will rise through the long sunny day
Above the flowery lea;

And deep the dreamy woods will own the slumbrous spell she weaves,

And send a greeting, mix'd with sighs, through all their quivering leaves. Oh, precious are her glowing gifts! and plenteous is she,

She bringeth all the lovely things that bright and fragrant be,

She scatters fulness on the Earth with lavish hand and free,

But not for me, my friends,
But not for me!

Autumn will come again, dear friends,
His spirit-touch shall be

With gold upon the harvest-field,
With crimson on the tree;

He passeth o'er the silent woods, they wither at his breath,

Slow fading in a still decay, a change that is not Death.

Oh! rich and liberal, and wise, and provident is he !

He taketh to his garner-house the things that ripen'd be,

He gathereth his store from Earth, and silently

And he will gather me, my friends,
He will gather me!

TO CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
THOU hast fill'd me a golden cup
With a drink divine that glows,
With the bloom that is flowing up
From the heart of the folded rose.
The grapes in their amber glow,

And the strength of the blood-red wine,
All mingle and change and flow
In this golden cup of thine,

With the scent of the curling vine,
With the balm of the rose's breath,
For the voice of love is thine,
And thine is the Song of Death!

When now the moon lifts up her shining

shield,

High on the peak of a cloud-hill reveal'd; Now crescent, low, wandering sun-dazed away,

Unconscious of her own star-mingled ray, Her still face seeming more to think than see,

Makes the pale world lie dreaming dreams of thee!

No mood of mind, no melody of soul,
But lies within thy silent soft control.

Of operative single power,
And simple unity the one emblem,

Yet all the colors that our passionate eyes devour,

In rainbow, moonbow, or in opal gem,
Are the melodious descant of divided thee.
Lo thee in yellow sands! lo thee
In the blue air and sea!

In the green corn, with scarlet poppies lit,
Thy half souls parted, patient thou dost sit.
Lo thee in speechless glories of the west!
Lo thee in dewdrop's tiny breast!

Thee on the vast white cloud that floats away,

Bearing upon its skirt a brown moon-ray ! Regent of color, thou dost fling

Thy overflowing skill on everything! The thousand hues and shades upon the flowers

Are all the pastime of thy leisure hours; And all the jewelled ores in mines that hidden be

Are dead till touch'd by thee.

BABY

WHERE did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into the here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ?

Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand strok'd it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ?

I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-corner'd smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands ?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here.

SONG

I DREAM'D that I woke from a dream,
And the house was full of light;
At the window two angel Sorrows
Held back the curtains of night.

The door was wide, and the house Was full of the morning wind; At the door two armed warders Stood silent, with faces blind.