Long, long afterward, in an oak SONNETS. THE EVENING STAR. Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, Of all her radiant garments, and reclines Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus ! My morning and my evening star of love! My best and gentlest lady! even thus, As that fair planet in the sky above, And from thy darkened window fades the light. AUTUMN. THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, DANTE. TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, ON MRS. KEMBLE'S READINGS FROM SHAKSPEARE. O PRECIOUS evenings! all too swiftly sped! Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, How our hearts glowed and trembled as she read, Of the great Poet who foreruns the ages, P |