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His sword, that dripped by me and swung,
A little shifted in its belt, –
So ʼmid the shouting multitude
We two walked forth to never more Return. My cousins have pursued Their life, untroubled as before
I vexed them. Gauthier's dwelling-place
Great brow; tho' when his brother's black
And have you brought my tercel back?
THE LOST LEADER.
UST for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat,
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
So much was their's who so little allowed :
Rags, - were they purple, his heart had been proud !
Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
Made him our pattern to live and to die !
Burns, Shelley, were with us, -- they watch from their graves ! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves !
We shall march prospering, — not through his presence;
Songs may inspirit us, - not from his lyre;
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire:
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more triumph for devils, and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins : let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, Forced praise on our part, the glimmer of twilight,
Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him, — strike gallantly,
Aim at our heart ere we pierce through his own; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,
Pardoned in Heaven, the first by the throne !
THE LOST MISTRESS.
LL'S over, then, — does truth sound bitter
As one at first believes ?
About your cottage eaves !
And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly,
I noticed that, to-day ;
- You know the red turns gray.
To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest?
May I take your hand in mine?
Keep much that I'll resign:
For each glance of that eye so bright and black,
Though I keep with heart's endeavor, -
Though it stays in my soul forever !
- Yet I will but say what mere friends say,
Or only a thought stronger ;
Or so very little longer !
HOME THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD.
O". bliain April's there
And whoever wakes in England
And after April, when May follows, And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows, – Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops, - at the bent spray's edge, — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine, careless rapture ! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower, - Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
HOME THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA.
OBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the northwest died
away ; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest northeast distance, dawned Gibraltar grand and
gray ; “ Here and here did England help me, - how can I help England ?”
- say, Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.
THE FLOWER'S NAME.
Arm in my arm, such a short while since :
Hinders the hinges and makes them wince !
As back with that murmur the wicket swung;
To feed and forget it the leaves among.
Down this side of the gravel-walk
She went while her robe's edge brushed the box :
To point me a moth on the milk-white flox.
I will never think that she passed you by!
But yonder see, where the rock-plants lie !