WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
By a...
It was Lilith the wife of Adam:
(Eden bower's in flower.)
Not a drop of her blood was human,
But she was made like a soft sweet woman.
Lilith stood on the skirts of Eden;
(And O the bower of the hour!)
...
Eden is that old-fashioned House
We dwell in every day
Without suspecting our abode
Until we drive away.
How fair on looking back, the Day
We sauntered from the Door —
Unconscious our returning,
But discover it no more.
Melancholy and sweet the footprint
That a western sun leaves in the blue
When it bathes in the distances the spaces
With the last rays of its light
While the night lays out over the heavens
The mysterious ...
And wherefore have they come, this warlike band,
That o'er the ocean many a weary day
Have tossed; and now beside Suakim's Bay,
With faces stern and resolute, do stand,
Waking the desert's echoes with the drum --
Men of Australia, wherefore have ye come?
To keep the Puppet Khedive on the throne,...
The vanished joy of my crazy years
Is as heavy as gloomy hang-over.
But, like wine, the sorrow of past days
Is stronger with time.
My path is sad. The waving sea of the future
Promises me only toil and sorrow.
...
No more of Zephyr's airy robe I'll sing,
Or balmy odours dropping from his wing,
Or how his spicy breath revives the lands,
And curls the waves which roll o'er crystal sands.
No more I'll paint the glowing hemisphere,
Or rocks ambitious, piercing upper air;
The subjects of the grave demand...
Melpomene, now strike a mournful string,
Montgomery's fate assisting me to sing!
Thou saw him fall upon the hostile plain
Yet ting'd with blood that gush'd from Moncalm's veins,
Where gallant Wolfe for conquest gave his breath,
Where num'rous heroes met the angel Death.
Ah! while the loud...
‘With cheerless gloom and storm-portending clouds
Rude Winter brushes from Antarctic wilds,
The front of Heav’n, in murky vapours shrouds,
Then bursts his sounding freightage o’er our isles.
No more are heard the thrush’s mellow notes,
No more the plover mounts the ev’ning breeze,
No more the soaring...