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Oft riding o'er a gentle rise,
I pause the landscape to survey,
While frosty dews to half-shut eyes
Weave webs of light in jewel play :
A floating gleam
Of elfin beam
In hoar grasstufts where the gossamers dream.

Tall trees with bronzy budded sprays
Embroider fine the liquid blue ;
Whose shadows stream to softer maze
As brimming o'er and sinking through
The sunned champaign,
K ne-gleaming plain.
Fields, hamlets, woods, in vaporous wane.

Yon hollow lies of all most fair :
A languid wreath of lawny smoke
Luxuriates in lucid air
O'er clustered elm, the haunt of rook,
From nestled farm
Homelike and warm
Aloof from men and all their harm.

For there at hoasehold tasks my life
Moves singing blithe as any bird
With whose brown ntsts our eaves are rife
That in the fresh May-dawn is stirred —
Dawns which illume
Those folds of spume
That curtain frail our beamy room.

We hear yon thresher's measured beat.
We see the glancing of the flail,
Farm voices cheery rousing greet,
Each milkmaid bears her bubbling pail.
Soon where we sleep
Your rose will creep.
And early will your flowers peep.

Joy's essence, all my spirit prays,
I hold though I belitved it not :
So life's long dark bewildeiing ways
Sloped down towards thi-> primrose spot !
Spill, leaves unrolled !
Our petals fold
Pressed close upon their heart of gold !

Js this the whole ? to seek our joy,
And finding sink to mere content —
No social aims our powers employ,
In a boundless human firmament?
Nay in a well,
Both deep and still.
Hoard love that all may drink their fill !

All bliss, how pure soe'er, must die ;
For this untasted must I throw
My life in dust ? for shadows sigh ?
Nay, drain its brief yet generous flow !
Love makes us more
With all the store
Of other lives, sole conqueror !

If aught survive it should be love.
That blends us with the heart of things ;
But if in death no spirit move,
Alone life's subtle aroma springs
From delicate cells
Where love indwells :
Ah ! guard it from the winter spells !

For calmly sleep our azure seas :
And yet from far there seems to breathe
Anon, as warning, some chill breeze
From wandering iceberg, white with death-
'I'he dull world's ill.
Chance frosts which kill.
And worst, my own dark spirit's chill !

Fold close, more close, the present bliss :
You gaze abroad —behold, 'tis gone ;
Nay, thoughts ne'er wander even to this —
Bask in the glory, every one !
Nor wonder pale
How soon the trail
Of yon vast shade shall make it fail !

As when upon a summer day
We wandering down some woodland vale
Hear a sweet voice from far away
So clear, so sweet, our spirits fail
To tell its birth.
Of heaven or earth,
Dropt by some angel in his mirth.

Who dips these crystal days anear —
Such seems our love : O thrilling voice,
I ntent 1 lean ; I stand all ear ;
Hand raised to banish alien noise ;
My soul drinks in
Bliss-shimmering keen
Each quavering line of your music rain !

Die not, O voice, into the blue
You well from : scent of blossomed spring
On delicate airs, I faint with you :
Slide not from their too wanton wing!
Kind spirits, alight ;
With hands flushed white
Shade my one flame from breath of night.