XI.

Love me, sweet friends, this sabbath day.
The sea sings round me while ye

roll

Afar the hymn unaltered,
And kneel, where once I knelt, to pray,
And bless me deeper in your soul,
Because your voice has faltered.

XII.

And though this sabbath comes to me
Without the stolèd minister,

And chanting congregation,

God's Spirit shall give comfort.

HE

Who brooded soft on waters drear,
Creator on creation.

XIII.

He shall assist me to look higher,

Where keep the saints, with harp and song,
An endless sabbath morning,

And, on that sea commixed with fire,
Oft drop their eyelids raised too long
To the full Godhead's burning.

A FLOWER IN A LETTER.
I.

My lonely chamber next the sea,
Is full of many flowers set free

By summer's earliest duty;
Dear friends upon the garden-walk
Might stopamid their fondest talk,
To pull the least in beauty.

II.

A thousand flowers-each seem-
ing one

That learnt, by gazing on the sun,
To counterfeit his shining-
Within whose leaves the holy dew
That falls from heaven, hath won

anew

A glory... in declining

III.

Red roses, used to praises long,
Contented with the poet's song,

The nightingale's being over:
And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it
much,

Of dreamer turned to lover.

IV.

Deep violets you liken to
The kindest eyes that look on you,

Without a thought disloyal:
And cactuses, a queen might don,
If weary of a golden crown,

And still appear as royal.

Ye weep for those who weep?— she said

Ah, fools!-I bid you pass them by;

How calmly, calmly, smile the Go, weep for those whose hearts

Dead,

Who do not, therefore, grieve! The yea of Heaven is yea, she

said.

have bled,

What time their eyes were dry! Whom sadder can I say?-she said.

CALLS ON THE HEART.

I.

FREE Heart, that singest to-day,
Like a bird on the first green spray ;
Wilt thou go forth to the world,
Where the hawk hath his wing unfurled
To follow, perhaps, thy way?

Where the tamer, thine own, will bind,
And, to make thee sing, will blind,—
While the little hip grows for the free behind?
Heart, wilt thou go?
"No, no!

Free hearts are better so."

II.

The world, thou hast heard it told,
Has counted its robber-gold,

And the pieces stick to the hand.

The world goes riding it fair and grand,

While the truth is bought and sold!

World-voices east, world-voices west,

They call thee, Heart, from thine early rest, "Come hither, come hither and be our guest." Heart, wilt thou go? -"No, no!

Good hearts are calmer so."

III.

Who calleth thee, Heart? World's Strife,

With a golden heft to his knife :
World's Mirth, with a finger fine
That draws on a board in wine,
Her blood-red plans of life:
World's Gain, with a brow knit down:
World's Fame, with a laurel crown,

Which rustles most as the leaves turn brown-
Heart, wilt thou go?
-“No, no!

Calm hearts are wiser so."

IV.

Hast heard that Proserpina
(Once fooling) was snatched away,
To partake the dark king's seat,-
And that the tears ran fast on her feet,

To think how the sun shone yesterday?
With her ankles sunken in asphodel,

She wept for the roses of earth, which fell From her lap when the wild car drave to hell. Heart, wilt thou go? -"No, no!

Wise hearts are warmer so."

V.

And what is this place not seen,
Where Hearts may hide serene ?—
""Tis a fair still house well kept,
Which humble thoughts have swept,
And holy prayers made clean.
There, I sit with Love in the sun,
And we two never have done

Singing sweeter songs than are guessed by one."