Sweet wooded way in life, forgetful Sleep!
Dim, drowsy realm where restful shadows fall,
And where the world’s glare enters not at all,
Or in soft glimmer making rest more deep;
Where sound comes not, or else like brooks that keep
The world’s noise out, as...
Maybury Fleming
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What though the green leaf grow?
’T will last a month and day;
In all sweet flowers that blow
Lurks Death, his slave Decay.But if my lady smile
There is no Death at all;
The world is fair the while,—
What though the red leaf fall... -
Thou ever young! Persephone but gazes
Upon thy face, and shows thee back thine own;
And every flock that on thy hillsides grazes,
And every breeze from thy fair rivers blown,
And all the nestlings from thy branches flown,
Are eloquent in thy...