Soul, wilt thou toss again ?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost, indeed,
But tens have won an all.
Angels' breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee ;
Imps in eager caucus
Raffle for my soul.
Sacred song heals the sick spirit.
The mysterious power of harmony
Will expiate a heavy delusion
And tame a revolting desire.
The soul of a singer expressed with a concordance
Is freed from all its woes,
And the sacred poetry will give purity
And peace to its companion.
Safe Despair it is that raves —
Agony is frugal.
Puts itself severe away
For its own perusal.
Garrisoned no Soul can be
In the Front of Trouble —
Love is one, not aggregate —
Nor is Dying double —
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine ;
Babbles the bee in a...
Said Death to Passion
"Give of thine an Acre unto me."
Said Passion, through contracting Breaths
"A Thousand Times Thee Nay."
Bore Death from Passion
All His East
He — sovereign as the Sun
Resituated in the West
And the Debate was done.
The Sail
The lonely sail is showing white
Among the haze of the blue sea!..
What does it search in foreign part?
What left it in the native land?..
The waves are playing, wind is whistling,
And bending mast is creaking loud,
Alas, – it does not hunt for pleasure
...
Come, let's aboard, my jolly blades,
That love a merry life;
To lazy souls leave home-bred trades,
To husbands home-bred strife;
Through Europe we will gaily roam,
And leave our wives and cares at home.
With a Fa la, &c.
If any...
What means this high and more than mortal strain?
'Tis St. Cecilia and her wondrous lyre,
And from its strings with soft, celestial fire
Comes...
Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!
O, quick, praevernal Power
That signall'st punctual through the sleepy mould
The Snowdrop's time to flower,...
Now is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey --
A man must cover with travelling sheep a six-mile stage a day;
But this is the law which the drovers make, right easily understood,
They travel their stage where the grass is bad, but they camp where the grass is good;
They camp, and they ravage the squatter's grass...