It ’s rare to see the morning bleeze
Like a bonfire frae the sea,
It ’s fair to see the burnie kiss
The lip o’ the flow’ry lea;
An’ fine it is on green hillside,
Where hums the bonnie bee,
But rarer, fairer, finer far
Is the Ingle-side for me.
Glens may be gilt wi’ gowans rare,
The birds may fill the tree;...
From “Snow-Bound”
THE SUN that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,...
From “Philip Van Artevelde”
THE HEART of man, walk in which way it will,
Sequestered or frequented, smooth or rough,
Down the deep valleys amongst tinkling flocks,
Or mid the clang of trumpets and the march
Of clattering ordnance, still must have its halt,
Its hour of truce, its instant of repose,
Its inn of rest; and craving still must...
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp and black and long;
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,—
He earns whate’er he can,...
A Ruddy drop of manly blood
The surging sea outweighs;
The world uncertain comes and goes,
The lover rooted stays.
I fancied he was fled,—
And, after many a year,
Glowed unexhausted kindliness,
Like daily sunrise there.
My careful heart was free again;
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched,...
Jaffar, the Barmecide, the good vizier,
The poor man’s hope, the friend without a peer,
Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust;
And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust
Of what the good, and e’en the bad, might say,
Ordained that no man living from that day
Should dare to speak his name on pain of death.
All Araby and Persia held their...
God’s love and peace be with thee, where
Soe’er this soft autumnal air
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair!
Whether through city casements comes
Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms,
Or, out among the woodland blooms,
It freshens o’er thy thoughtful face,
Imparting, in its glad embrace,
Beauty to beauty, grace to grace!
JENNY 1 kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in.
Time, you thief! who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in.
Say I ’m weary, say I ’m sad;
Say that health and wealth have missed me;
Say I ’m growing old, but add—
Jenny kissed me!
Note 1. “Jenny” was Mrs. Jane Welsh Carlyle. [back]...
I Fear thy kisses, gentle maiden;
Thou needest not fear mine;
My spirit is too deeply laden
Ever to burden thine.
I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion;
Thou needest not fear mine;
Innocent is the heart’s devotion
With which I worship thine.
She is not fair to outward view,
As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me:
O, then I saw her eye was bright,—
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold;
To mine they ne’er reply;
And yet I cease not to behold
The love-light in her eye:
Her very...
