From “The Minstrel”
BUT who the melodies of morn can tell?
The wild brook babbling down the mountainside;
The lowing herd; the sheepfold’s simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
The...
-
-
Thick lay the dust, uncomfortably white,
In glaring mimicry of Arab sand.
The woods and mountains slept in hazy light;
The meadows looked athirst and tawny tanned;
The little rills had left their channels bare,
With scarce a pool to witness what they were;
And the shrunk river gleamed ’mid oozy stones,
That stared like any famished giant’... -
How the earth burns! Each pebble under foot
Is as a living thing with power to wound.
The white sand quivers, and the footfall mute
Of the slow camels strikes but gives no sound,
As though they walked on flame, not solid ground!
’T is noon, and the beasts’ shadows even have fled
Back to their feet, and there is fire around
And fire... -
Not a sound disturbs the air,
There is quiet everywhere;
Over plains and over woods
What a mighty stillness broods!
All the birds and insects keep
Where the coolest shadows sleep;
Even the busy ants are found
Resting in their pebbled mound;
Even the locust clingeth now
Silent to the barky bough:
Over hills and over... -
Beneath a shivering canopy reclined,
Of aspen-leaves that wave without a wind,
I love to lie, when lulling breezes stir
The spiry cones that tremble on the fir;
Or wander mid the dark-green fields of broom,
When peers in scattered tufts the yellow bloom;
Or trace the path with tangling furze o’errun,
When bursting seed-bells crackle in... -
Who has not dreamed a world of bliss
On a bright sunny noon like this,
Couched by his native brook’s green maze,
With comrade of his boyish days,
While all around them seemed to be
Just as in joyous infancy?
Who has not loved, at such an hour,
Upon that heath, in birchen bower,
Lulled in the poet’s dreamy mood,
Its wild... -
The Midges dance aboon the burn;
The dews begin to fa’;
The pairtricks down the rushy holm
Set up their e’ening ca’.
Now loud and clear the blackbird’s sang
Rings through the briery shaw,
While, flitting gay, the swallows play
Around the castle wa’.Beneath the golden gloamin’ sky
The mavis mends her lay;... -
From “Queen Mab”
IF solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean’s echoing shore,
And thou hast lingered there
Until the sun’s broad orb
Seemed resting on the burnished wave,
Thou must have marked the lines
Of purple gold that motionless
Hung o’er the sinking sphere:
Thou must have marked the billowy... -
O, It is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what you please,
Or let the easily persuaded eyes
Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould
Of a friend’s fancy; or, with head bent low,
And cheek aslant, see rivers flow of gold,
’Twixt crimson banks; and then a... -
From “The Spanish Gypsy”
DAY is dying! Float, O song,
Down the westward river,
Requiem chanting to the Day,—
Day, the mighty Giver.Pierced by shafts of Time he bleeds,
Melted rubies sending
Through the river and the sky,
Earth and heaven bleeding;All the long-drawn earthy banks
Up to cloud-land...