Oh, the birds, the tree, the ruddy
And white blossoms sleek with rain!
Oh, my garden rich with pansies!
Oh, my childhood's bright romances !
All revive, like Hector's body,

And I see them stir again.

And despite life's changes, chances,
And despite the deathbell's toll,
They press on me in full seeming.
Help, some angel! stay this dreaming!

As the birds sang in the branches,

Sing God's patience through my soul !

That no dreamer, no neglecter
Of the present's work unsped,
I may wake up and be doing,
Life's heroic ends pursuing,
Though my past is dead as Hector,
And though Hector is twice dead.

THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST.

LITTLE Ellie sits alone

'Mid the beeches of a meadow

By a stream-side on the grass,

And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow:
Now she holds them nakedly

In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
While she rocketh to and fro

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly uses

Fills the silence like a speech, While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooses For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile Chooses "I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds: He shall love me without guile, And to him I will discover

The swan's nest among the reeds.

"And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath : And the lute he plays upon

Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

"And the steed it shall be shod

All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind, And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

"But my lover will not prize

face:

All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in,
And I kneel here for thy grace!'

"Then, ay, then he shall kneel low,
With the red-roan steed anear him
Which shall seem to understand,
Till I answer, 'Rise and go!

For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand.'

"Then he will arise so pale,
I shall feel my own lips tremble
With a yes I must not say :
Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'
I will utter, and dissemble-
'Light to-morrow with to-day!

"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong;
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver
Which the wicked bear along.

"Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain And kneel down beside my feet'Lo, my master sends this gage,

Lady, for thy pity's counting!

What wilt thou exchange for it?'

"And the first time, I will send
A white rosebud for a guerdon,
And the second time, a glove;
But the third time-I may bend
From my pride, and answer-' Pardon,
If he comes to take my love.'

"Then the young foot-page will run, Then my lover will ride faster,

Till he kneeleth at my knee :
'I am a duke's eldest son,
Thousand serfs do call me master,
But, O Love, I love but thee!'

"He will kiss me on the mouth

Then, and lead me as a lover

Through the crowds that praise his deeds:

And, when soul-tied by one troth,

Unto him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds."

Little Ellie, with her smile

Not yet ended, rose up gaily,

Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe, And went homeward round a mile, Just to see, as she did daily,

What more eggs were with the two.

Pushing through the elm-tree copse,
Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads,

Past the boughs she stoops-and stops.
Lo, the wild swan had deserted,
And a rat had gnawed the reeds!

Ellie went home sad and slow.

If she found the lover ever,

With his red-roan steed of steeds,
Sooth I know not; but I know
She could never show him-never,
That swan's nest among the reeds!

THE LOST BOWER.

IN the pleasant orchard-closes,
"God bless all our gains," say we ;

But "May God bless all our losses,"

Better suits with our degree.

Listen, gentle-ay, and simple! listen, children on the knee !

Green the land is where my daily
Steps in jocund childhood played,
Dimpled close with hill and valley,
Dappled very close with shade;

Summer-snow of apple-blossoms running up from glade to glade.

There is one hill I see nearer,
In my vision of the rest;
And a little wood seems clearer
As it climbeth from the west,

Sideway from the tree-locked valley, to the airy upland

crest.

Small the wood is, green with hazels,

And, completing the ascent,

Where the wind blows and sun dazzles,

Thrills in leafy tremblement,

Like a heart that after climbing beateth quickly through

content.

Not a step the wood advances

O'er the open hill-tops bound;

There, in green arrest, the branches

See their image on the ground:

You may walk beneath them smiling, glad with sight and glad with sound.