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That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind.
And wherever her airy footstep trod,
Like a sunny storm o'er the dark green
Rejoiced in the sound of her gentle feet;
I doubt not the flowers of that garden This fairest creature from earliest spring
All the sweet season of summer tide,
The sweet lips of the flowers, and harm
Make her attendant angels be.
She sprinkled bright water from the
On those that were faint with the sunny Three days the flowers of the garden fair, Like stars when the moon is awakened, were,
And out of the cups of the heavy flowers
Or the waves of Baix, ere luminous
If the flowers had been her own infants she
Could never have nursed them more tenderly.
And all killing insects and gnawing
And things of obscene and unlovely
She bore in a basket of Indian woof,
And many an antenatal tomb,
She left clinging round the smooth and
Edge of the odorous cedar bark.
She lifted their heads with her tender hands,
And on the fourth, the Sensitive Plant
And the steps of the bearers, heavy and
And the sobs of the mourners deep and
In a basket, of grasses and wild-flowers full,
The freshest her gentle hands could pull For the poor banished insects, whose intent,
Although they did ill, was innocent.
The weary sound and the heavy breath,
Sent through the pores of the coffin
The dark grass, and the flowers among
Were bright with tears as the crowd did
From their sighs the wind caught a
And sate in the pines, and gave groan
But the bee and the beamlike ephemeris
moths that kiss
Like the corpse of her who had been its Were bent and tangled across the walks ;
Which at first was lovely as if in sleep,
Massed into ruin; and all sweet flowers.
Swift summer into the autumn flowed, And frost in the mist of the morning | rode,
Though the noonday sun looked clear and bright,
Mocking the spoil of the secret night.
Paved the turf and the moss below.
Like the head and the skin of a dying
The rose leaves, like flakes of crimson And thistles, and nettles, and darnels
And the dock, and henbane, and hem-
Stretched out its long and hollow shank,
And Indian plants, of scent and hue
And the leaves, brown, yellow, and gray,
And white with the whiteness of what
Like troops of ghosts on the dry wind
And the gusty winds waked the winged
Out of their birthplace of ugly weeds,
The water-blooms under the rivulet
Fell from the stalks on which they were
And the eddies drove them here and
And unctuous meteors from spray to spray
Then there steamed up a freezing dew By a venomous blight was burned and Which to the drops of the thaw-rain bit.
The Sensitive Plant like one forbid And a northern whirlwind, wandering Wept, and the tears within each lid about Of its folded leaves which together grew Like a wolf that had smelt a dead child Were changed to a blight of frozen glue.
Shook the boughs thus laden, and heavy and stiff,
And snapped them off with his rigid griff.
For the leaves soon fell, and the branches
By the heavy axe of the blast were hewn ;
First there came down a thawing rain And its dull drops froze on the boughs again,
His breath was a chain which without a sound
The earth, and the air, and the water bound;
He came, fiercely driven, in his chariot
As blood to a heart that will beat no The Sensitive Plant was a leafless wreck ; But the mandrakes, and toadstools, and docks, and darnels,
For Winter came: the wind was his Rose like the dead from their ruined whip:
One choppy finger was on his lip:
He had torn the cataracts from the hills And they clanked at his girdle like manacles;
By the tenfold blasts of the arctic zone.
Fled from the frost to the earth beneath.
When winter had gone and spring came
Whether the Sensitive Plant, or that
Ere its outward form had known decay,
Whether that lady's gentle mind,
It is a modest creed, and yet
The birds dropped stiff from the frozen That garden sweet, that lady fair,
For love, and beauty, and delight,
Exceeds our organs, which endure
Till the thick stalk stuck like a murderer's stake,
Where rags of loose flesh yet tremble on high,
Infecting the winds that wander by.
Dim mirrors of ruin hang gleaming about;
Their moss rotted off them, flake by Or like sulphur-flakes hurled from a flake, mine of pale fire In fountains spout o'er it. In many a
From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven,
While the surf, like a chaos of stars, like
Of death-flames, like whirlpools of fire-
The pyramid-billows with white points
In the cope of the lightning inconstantly
A VISION OF THE SEA 'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of The great ship seems splitting! it cracks
as a tree,
Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale:
While an earthquake is splintering its
Of the whirlwind that stripped it of
And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge from heaven, She sees the black trunks of the water- Have shattered its mast, and it stands black and riven.
And bend, as if heaven was ruining in, The chinks suck destruction. The heavy Which they seemed to sustain with their dead hulk
On the living sea rolls an inanimate bulk, As if ocean had sunk from beneath them: Like a corpse on the clay which is they pass
To their graves in the deep with an
hungering to fold corruption around it. from the hold,
earthquake of sound,
And the waves and the thunders made One deck is burst up by the waters silent around
Leave the wind to its echo. The vessel, And it splits like the ice when the thawnow tossed breezes blow Through the low-trailing rack of the O'er the lakes of the desert! Who sit tempest, is lost on the other?
Is that all the crew that lie burying each
In the skirts of the thunder-cloud: now down the sweep Of the wind-cloven wave to the chasm Like the dead in a breach, round the of the deep foremast? Are those It sinks, and the walls of the watery Twin tigers, who burst, when the waters vale Whose depths of dread calm are unmoved by the gale,
In the agony of terror, their chains in the
(What now makes them tame, is what Than heaven, when, unbinding its starthen made them bold;) braided hair,
Who crouch, side by side, and have It sinks with the sun on the earth and the sea.
driven, like a crank,
The deep grip of their claws through the She clasps a bright child on her upvibrating plank. gathered knee, Are these all? Nine weeks the tall It laughs at the lightning, it mocks the vessel had lain mixed thunder
On the windless expanse of the watery Of the air and the sea, with desire and with wonder
Where the death-darting sun cast no shadow at noon,
It is beckoning the tigers to rise and
It would play with those eyes where the
And there seemed to be fire in the beams
Whose breath was quick pestilence;
While its mother's is lustreless.
With their hammocks for coffins the sea- Of the pang that awaits us, whatever men aghast that be, Like dead men the dead limbs of their So dreadful since thou must divide it comrades cast with me!
Down the deep, which closed on them Dream, sleep! This pale bosom, thy above and around, cradle and bed,
And the sharks and the dog-fish their Will it rock thee not, infant? 'Tis grave-clothes unbound,
beating with dread!
And were glutted like Jews with this manna rained down
what is life, what is death, what are we,
From God on their wilderness.
That when the ship sinks we no longer may be?
What! to see thee no more, and to feel thee no more?
after one The mariners died; on the eve of this day, When the tempest was gathering in cloudy array, But seven remained.
outshining the meteors; its bosom beats high,
heart-fire of pleasure has kindled its eye;
To be after life what we have been before? Six the thunder Not to touch those sweet hands? to look on those eyes,
has smitten, And they lie black as mummies on which Those lips, and that hair, all the Time has written smiling disguise
His scorn of the embalmer; the seventh, Thou yet wearest, sweet spirit, which from the deck I, day by day,
An oak-splinter pierced through his Have so long called my child, but breast and his back, which now fades away And hung out to the tempest, a wreck Like a rainbow, and I the fallen on the wreck. shower ?" Lo! the ship No more? more fair
At the helm sits a woman Is settling, it topples, the leeward ports