Look! look! that livid flash! And instantly follows the rattling thunder, As if some cloud-crag, split asunder, Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash, On the Earth, which crouches in silence under; And now a solid gray wall of rain Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile; For a breath's space I see the blue wood again, And ere the next heart-beat, the windhurled pile, That seemed but now a league aloof, Bursts crackling o'er the sun-parched roof; Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, Hush! Still as death, The tempest holds his breath As from a sudden will; The rain stops short, but from the eaves You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, All is so bodingly still; Gone, gone, so soon! No more my half-crazed fancy there, Can shape a giant in the air, No more I see his streaming hair, The writhing portent of his form ;The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me. Such is true Love, which steals into the heart With feet as silent as the lightsome dawn That kisses smooth the rough brows of the dark, And hath its will through blissful gentleness, Not like a rocket, which, with savage glare, Whirs suddenly up, then bursts, and leaves the night Painfully quivering on the dazed eyes; A love that gives and takes, that seeth faults, Not with flaw-seeking eyes like needle points, But loving-kindly ever looks them down With the o'ercoming faith of meek forgiveness; A love that shall be new and fresh each As is the golden mystery of sunset, But faces Truth and Beauty as their Showing its worthiness of noble thoughts Of good and beauty in the soul of man, A family-likeness to its chosen one, For love is blind but with the fleshly That so its inner sight may be more clear; Pierces the body's mask of thin disguise, With arms outstretched and eager face Yearning to be but understood and loved. TO PERDITA, SINGING. Without thinking, To that brimful heart of thine. All thy smiles and all thy tears And sweetness, wove of joy and woe, From their teaching it hath taken : It hath caught a touch of sadness, Yet it is not sad; It hath tones of clearest gladness, A dim, sweet twilight voice it is With starry feelings quivered through. Thy voice is like a fountain Its clear droppings, lone and single, Thine is music such as yields Flowing like an emerald river, Of that never cold time, Peace sits within thine eyes, With white hands crossed in joyful rest, While, through thy lips and face, arise And white arms crost, The beauty which the summer time Yea, every holy influence, In thine eyes to-day is seen, Whatever led thy childish feet, For yet no moon had risen: And lived but in an aimless seeking. So was my soul; but when 't was full Whispered a dim foreboding, Making its waters meet, As if by an unconscious will, For the moon's silver feet, And now, howe'er its waves above With guidance sure and peaceful, REMEMBERED MUSIC. A FRAGMENT. THICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast Rising and rising momently, A fitful breeze, until they ran Up to a sudden ecstasy. And then, like minute-drops of rain Till it was almost like a pain To listen when the next would be. SONG. TO M. L. A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first, By morning, and noontide, and evening | As if thy natal stars were flowers nursed: That shook their seeds round thee on earth. And thou, to lull thine infant rest, Thine every fancy seems to borrow A hope-lit rainbow out of tears, I would more natures were like thine, THE FOUNTAIN. INTO the sunshine, Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow! Into the starlight Rushing in spray, Happy at midnight, Happy by day! Ever in motion, Glad of all weathers, Still seeming best, Upward or downward, Motion thy rest ; Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same; — |