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TO THE CUCKOO.

“She shall be sportive as the fawn,

That wild with glee across the lawn O BLITHE new-comer! I have heard,

Or up the mountain springs; I hear thee, and rejoice :

And hers shall be the breathing balm, O cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, And hers the silence and the calm, Or but a wandering voice?

Of mute insensate things. While I am lying on the grass

“The floating clouds their state shall Thy twofold shout I hear;

lend From hill to hill it seems to pass,

To her; for her the willow bend; At once far off and near.

Nor shall she fail to see

E'en in the motions of the storin
Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,

Grace that shall mould the maiden's form Thou bringest unto me a tale

By silent sympathy. Of visionary hours.

“The stars of unidnight shall be dear Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! To her; and she shall lean her ear Even yet thou art to me

In many a secret place, No bird, but an invisible thing,

Where rivulets dance their wayward A voice, a mystery ;

round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound The same whom in iny school-boy days Shall pass into her face. I listened to; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways, “And vital feelings of delight In bush and tree and sky.

Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosoin swell;
To seek thee did I often rove

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
Through woods and on the green; While she and I together live
And thou wert still a hope, a love; Here in this happy dell."
Still longed for, never seen!

Thus Naturespake. The work was done And I can listen to thee yet;

How soon my Lucy's race was run! Can lie upon the plain

She died, and left to me And listen, till I do beget

This heath, this calm and quiet scene; That golden time again.

The memory of what has been,

And nevermore will be.
O blesséd bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, fairy place
That is fit home for thee!

SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT.
She was a phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A MEMORY

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament; Three years she grew in sun and shower; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; On earth was never sown :

But all things else about her drawn This child I to myself will take; From May-time and the cheerful dawn; She shall be mine, and I will make A dancing shape, an image gay, A lady of my own.

To haunt, to startle, and waylay. "Myself will to my darling be

I saw her upon nearer view, Both law and impulse; and with me A spirit, yet a woman too! The girl, in rock and plain,

Her household motions light and free, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, And steps of virgin liberty; Shall feel an overseeing power

A countenance in which did meet To kindle or restrain.

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

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WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

101

A creature not too bright or good

“O, green,

said ], "are Yarrow's For human nature's daily food,

holms, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, And sweet is Yarrow flowing ! Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, smiles.

But we will leave it growing.

O'er hilly path and open strath And now I see with eye serere

We'll wander Scotland thorough; The very pulse of the machine;

But, though so near, we will not turn A being breathing thoughtsul breath, Into the dale of Yarrow. A traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will,

“Let beeves and home-bred kine partake Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

The sweets of Burn Mill meadow; A perfect woman, nolly planned

The swan on still Saint Mary's Lake To warn, to comfort, and command;

Float double, swan and shadow! And yet a spirit still, and bright

We will not see them; will not go .
With something of an angel light.

To-day, nor yet to-morrow ;
Enough if in our hearts we know

There's such a place as Yarrow.
YARROW UNVISITED.

“ Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown! From Stirling Castle we had seen

It must, or we shall rue it: The mazy Forth unravelled ;

We have a vision of our own; Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,

Ah! why should we undo it? Aud with the Tweed had travelled ;

The treasured dreams of times long past, And when we came to Clovenford,

We'll keep them, winsome Marrow ! Then said my “winsome Marrow," For when we're there, although 't is fair, “Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,

'T will be another Yarrow! And see the Braes of Yarrow." “Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,

“If care with freezing years should come, Who have been buying, selling,

And wandering seem but folly, Go back to Yarrow, 't is their own,

Should we be loath to stir from home, Each maiden to her dwelling!

And yet be melancholy; On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,

Should life be dull, and spirits low, Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!

'T will soothe us in our sorrow But we will downward with the Tweed, That earth has something yet to show, Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

The bonny holms of Yarrow !"

“There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,

Both lying right before us ;
And Dryburgh, where with chiming ON A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE IN
Tweed

A STORM.
The lintwhites sing in chorus;
There's pleasant Teviotdale, a land

PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT,
Made blithe with plough and harrow :
Why throw away a needful day

I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged To go in search of Yarrow ?

pile!

Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of “What's Yarrow but a river bare,

thee: That glides the dark hills under? I saw thee every day; and all the while There are a thousand such elsewhere Thy form was sleeping on a glassy sea.

As worthy of your wonder." Strange words they seemed of slight So pure the sky, so quiet was the air ! and scorn;

So like, so very like, was day to day! My true-love sighed for sorrow, Whene'er I looked, thy image still was And looked me in the face, to think

there; I thus could speak of Yarrow! It trembled, but it n'tor passed away.

How perfect was the calm! It seemed | That hulk which labors in the deadly no sleep,

swell, No mood, which season takes away, or 1 This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!

brings : I could have fancied that the mighty And this huge castle, standing here subDeep

lime, Was even the gentlest of all gentle things. I love to see the look with which it

braves Ah! then if mine had been the painter's Cased in the unfeeling armor of olu hand

timeTo express what then I saw; and add The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampthe gleam,

ling waves. The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream, Farewell, farewell the heart that lives

alone, I would have planted thee, thou hoary Housed in a dream, at distance from the pile,

kind! Amid a world how different from this! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; | Is to be pitied; for 't is surely blind. On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.

But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, A picture had it been of lasting ease, And frequent sights of what is to be Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;

borne! No motion but the moving tide, a breeze; Such sights, or worse, as are before me Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.

here:

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, Such picture would I at that time have

made; And seen the soul of truth in every part,

ODE TO DUTY. A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed.

STERN daughter of the voice of God!

O Duty! if that name thou love, So once it would have been, — 't is so no Who art a light to guide, a rod more;

To check the erring, and reprove;
I have submitted to a new control : Thou who art victory and law
A power is gone, which nothing can When empty terrors overawe,
restore ;

From vain temptations dost set free,
A deep distress hath humanized my soul. And calm'st the weary strife of frail hu-

manity!
Not for a moment could I now behold
A smiling sea, and be what I have been : There are who ask not if thine eye
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be Be on them; who, in love and truth,

Where no misgiving is, rely
This, which I know, I speak with mind Upon the genial sense of youth :

Glad hearts! without reproach or blot;

Who do thy work, and know it not: Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would May joy be theirs while life shall last ! have been the friend,

And thou, if they should totter, teach If he had lived, of him whom I deplore,

them to stand fast ! This work of thine I blame not, but commend ;

Serene will be our days and bright, This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. And happy will our nature be,

When love is an unerring light, 0, 't is a passionate work !- yet wise and And joy its own security. well,

And blest are they who in the main Well chosen is the spirit that is here; This faith, even now, do entertain :

old;

serene.

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