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Smooth down my cares and calmly breathe;
And never sad with others’ sadness,
And never glad with others' gladness,
Listen, unstirred, to knell or chime,
And, lapt in quiet, bide my time.

ON A PICTURE OF A GIRL LEADING HER BLIND

MOTHER THROUGH THE WOOD.

The green leaves as we pass
Lay their light fingers on thee unaware,
And by thy side the hazels cluster fair,

And the low forest-grass
Grows green and silken where the wood-paths wind
Alas! for thee, sweet mother! thou art blind!

And nature is all bright;
And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn,
Like folded curtains from the day are drawn;

And evening's purple light

Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky,
Alas! sweet mother ! for thy clouded eye!

The moon's new silver shell
Trembles above thee, and the stars float up,
In the blue air, and the rich tulip s cup

Is pencill’d passing well,
And the swift birds on glorious pinions flee -
Alas! sweet mother! that thou canst not see !

And the kind looks of friends
Peruse the sad expression in thy face,
And the child stops amid his bounding race,

And the tall stripling bends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot-
Alas I sweet mother! that thou seest them not!

But thou canst hear! and love May richly on a human tone be pour’d, And the least cadence of a whisper'd word

A daughter's love may prove

And while I speak thou knowest if I smile, Albeit thou canst not see my face the while !

Yes, thou canst hear! and He
Who on thy sightless eye its darkness hung,
To the attentive ear, like harps, hath strung

Heaven and earth and sea ?
And 'tis a lesson in our hearts to know..
With but one sense the soul may overflow.

TO A STOLEN RING.

Oh for thy history now! Hadst thou a tongue
To whisper of thy secrets, I could lay
Upon thy jewell’d tracery mine ear
And dream myself in heaven. Thou hast been worn
In that fair creature's pride, and thou hast felt
The bounding of the haughtiest blood that e’er
Sprang from the heart of woman ; and thy gold
Has lain upon her forehead in the hour
Of sadness, when the weary thoughts came fast,
And life was but a bitterness with all
Its vividness and beauty. She has gazed
In her fair girlhood on thy snowy pearls,
And mused away the hours, and she has bent

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