UT deck the board;-for hither comes a band
Of pure young spirits, fresh arrayed in white,
Glistering against the newly-risen light;

Over the green and dew-impearled land
Blithsomely tripping forward hand in hand:
Deck ye the board: and let the guest be dight
In gospel wedding-garment rich and bright,
And every bud that summer suns expand.
For you, ye humble ones, our thickets bloom:

Ye know the texture of each opening flower,
And which the sunshine, and which love the gloom.
The shrill of poised larks for many an hour

Ye watch; and all things gentle in your hearts
Have place, and play at call their tuneful parts.

TO MARY.

IN thy young brow, my sister, twenty years
Have shed their sunshine; and this April morn

Looks on thee fresh and gladsome, as new-born
From veiling clouds the king of day appears :
Thou scarce canst order back the thankful tears
That swell in thy blue eyes: nor dare to meet
The happy looks that never cease to greet
Thee the dear nursling of our hopes and fears.
This Easter-tide together we have read

How in the garden, when that weeping one Asked sadly for her Lord of some unknown, With look of sweet reproof He turned and said, Mary"-Sweet sister, when thy need shall be, That word, that look, so may He turn on thee!

66

ADY, I bid thee to a sunny dome
Ringing with echoes of Italian song:
Henceforth to thee these magic halls belong,
And all the pleasant place is like a home.

Hark, on the right with full piano tone

Old Dante's voice encircles all the air;

Hark yet again, like flute-tones mingling rare, Comes the keen sweetness of Petrarca's moan. Pass thou the lintel freely: without fear

Feast on the music: I do better know thee, Than to suspect this pleasure thou dost owe me Will wrong thy gentle spirit, or make less dear That element whence thou must draw thy life,

An English maiden and an English wife.

H blessing and delight of my young heart,
Maiden, who wert so lovely and so pure,
I know not in what region now thou art,
Or whom thy gentle eyes in joy assure.
Not the old hills on which we gazed together,
Not the old faces which we both did love,

Not the old books whence knowledge we did gather-
Not these, but others now thy fancies move.
I would I knew thy present hopes and fears,
All thy companions, with their pleasant talk,
And the clear aspect which thy dwelling wears;
So, though in body absent, I might walk

With thee in thought and feeling, till thy mood

Did sanctify mine own to peerless good.

TO THE AUTHORESS OF "OUR VILLAGE."

HE single eye, the daughter of the light;
Well pleased to recognize in lowliest shade
Some glimmer of its parent beam, and made
By daily draughts of brightness, inly bright:

The taste severe, yet graceful, trained aright
In classic depth and clearness, and repaid
By thanks and honour from the wise and staid,
By pleasant skill to blame and yet delight,
And high communion with the eloquent throng
Of those who purified our speech and song—
All these are yours. The same examples lure
You in each woodland, me on breezy moor—
With kindred aim the same sweet path along,
To knit in loving knowledge rich and poor.