CCXX. SONNET Written on Hearing of the Outbreak of the Polish Insurrection. BLOW ye the trumpet, gather from afar Grew to his strength among his deserts cold; The growing murmurs of the Polish war! Than when Zamoysky smote the Tartar Khan; Than earlier, when on the Baltic shore Boleslas drove the Pomeranian. CCXXI. A RECUSANT. THE Church stands there beyond the orchard-blooms; Lifted mysterious through the twilight glooms, Or dim as slender incense morn by morn CCXXII. FORGETFULNESS. I ASK one boon of heaven; I have indeed, In others' hearts with mine a sympathy: One look into the west, where day dwells yet, I ask one boon of heaven-to forget. CCXXIII. TO A BIRD That Haunted the Waters of Laken, in the Winter. O MELANCHOLY bird !-a winter's day And taught by God dost thy whole being school And his unthinking course by thee to weigh. CCXXIV. THE HARVEST HOME. THE crimson moon, uprising from the sea, Our field are full with the time-ripened grain, Our vineyards with the purple clusters swell; Her golden splendour glimmers on the main, And vales and mountains her bright glory tell : Then sing, ye shepherds, for the time is come When we must bring the enriched harvest home. |