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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Victorian Songs
+       Lyrics of the Affections and Nature
+
+Author: Various
+
+Commentator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Editor: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Illustrator: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2008 [EBook #26715]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SONGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This
+file includes images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+[This e-text comes in two forms: Latin-1 and ASCII-7. Download the one
+that works best on your text reader.
+
+--In the Latin-1 version, names like "Aïdé" and words like "naïveté"
+have accents, and "æ" is a single letter. If any part of this paragraph
+displays as garbage, try changing your text reader's "character set" or
+"file encoding". If that doesn't work, proceed to:
+
+--The ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All essential text will still be
+there; it just won't be as pretty.
+
+Spacing of contractions such as _I 've_ follows the original.]
+
+
+
+
+Victorian Songs
+
+  "'Let some one sing to us, lightlier move
+    The minutes fledged with music'."
+
+      TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  Victorian Songs
+
+  Lyrics of the Affections
+  and Nature
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  Collected and Illustrated
+  by Edmund H Garrett
+  with an Introduction by
+  Edmund Gosse
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  Little Brown and Company
+  Boston 1895
+
+
+
+
+  _Copyright, 1895._
+  BY EDMUND H. GARRETT.
+
+
+  University Press:
+  John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Some printings of the book have a two-page Editor's Note before the
+Contents, acknowledging the "publishers and authors who have given
+permission for the use of many of the songs included in this volume".
+It has been omitted from this e-text.]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+    Where are the songs I used to know?
+
+        Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+  AÏDÉ, HAMILTON (1830).                                    Page
+    Remember or Forget                                         3
+    Oh, Let Me Dream                                           6
+    Love, the Pilgrim                                          7
+
+  ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM (1824-1889).
+    Lovely Mary Donnelly                                       9
+    Song                                                      13
+    Serenade                                                  14
+    Across the Sea                                            16
+
+  ARNOLD, SIR EDWIN (1832).
+    Serenade                                                  18
+    A Love Song of Henri Quatre                               20
+
+  ASHE, THOMAS (1836-1889).
+    No and Yes                                                22
+    At Altenahr                                               23
+    Marit                                                     24
+
+  AUSTIN, ALFRED (1835).
+    A Night in June                                           26
+
+  BEDDOES, THOMAS LOVELL (1803-1849).
+    Dream-Pedlary                                             30
+    Song from the Ship                                        33
+    Song                                                      34
+    Song                                                      35
+    Song, by Two Voices                                       36
+    Song                                                      38
+
+  BENNETT, WILLIAM COX (1820).
+    Cradle Song                                               39
+    My Roses blossom the Whole Year Round                     41
+    Cradle Song                                               42
+
+  BOURDILLON, F. W. (1852).
+    Love's Meinie                                             43
+    The Night has a Thousand Eyes                             44
+    A Lost Voice                                              45
+
+  BUCHANAN, ROBERT (1841).
+    Serenade                                                  46
+    Song                                                      48
+
+  COLLINS, MORTIMER (1827-1876).
+    To F. C.                                                  49
+    A Game of Chess                                           50
+    Multum in Parvo                                           52
+    Violets at Home                                           53
+    My Thrush                                                 54
+
+  CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK (1826-1887).
+    Too Late                                                  56
+    A Silly Song                                              58
+
+  DARLEY, GEORGE (1795-1846).
+    May Day                                                   60
+    I 've been Roaming                                        62
+    Sylvia's Song                                             63
+    Serenade                                                  64
+
+  DE TABLEY, LORD (1835).
+    A Winter Sketch                                           66
+    The Second Madrigal                                       69
+
+  DE VERE, AUBREY (1788-1846).
+    Song                                                      70
+    Song                                                      72
+    Song                                                      74
+
+  DICKENS, CHARLES (1812-1870).
+    The Ivy Green                                             75
+
+  DOBSON, AUSTIN (1840).
+    The Ladies of St. James's                                 77
+    The Milkmaid                                              81
+
+  DOMETT, ALFRED (1811-1887).
+    A Glee for Winter                                         84
+    A Kiss                                                    86
+
+  DUFFERIN, LADY (1807-1867).
+    Song                                                      88
+    Lament of the Irish Emigrant                              90
+
+  FIELD, MICHAEL.
+    Winds To-day are Large and Free                           94
+    Let us Wreathe the Mighty Cup                             96
+    Where Winds abound                                        97
+
+  GALE, NORMAN (1862).
+    A Song                                                    98
+    Song                                                      99
+
+  GOSSE, EDMUND (1849).
+    Song for the Lute                                        101
+
+  HOOD, THOMAS (1798-1845).
+    Ballad                                                   102
+    Song                                                     104
+    I Remember, I Remember                                   106
+    Ballad                                                   108
+    Song                                                     110
+
+  HOUGHTON, LORD (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES) (1809-1885).
+    The Brookside                                            111
+    The Venetian Serenade                                    113
+    From Love and Nature                                     115
+
+  INGELOW, JEAN (1830).
+    The Long White Seam                                      116
+    Love                                                     118
+    Sweet is Childhood                                       120
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES (1819-1875).
+    Airly Beacon                                             121
+    The Sands of Dee                                         122
+    Three Fishers went Sailing                               124
+    A Farewell                                               126
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE (1775-1864).
+    Rose Aylmer                                              127
+    Rubies                                                   128
+    The Fault is not Mine                                    129
+    Under the Lindens                                        130
+    Sixteen                                                  131
+    Ianthe                                                   132
+    One Lovely Name                                          133
+    Forsaken                                                 133
+
+  LOCKER-LAMPSON, FREDERICK (1821-1895).
+    A Garden Lyric                                           134
+    The Cuckoo                                               137
+    Gertrude's Necklace                                      139
+
+  LOVER, SAMUEL (1797-1868).
+    The Angel's Whisper                                      141
+    What will you do, Love?                                  143
+
+  MACKAY, CHARLES (1814-1889).
+    I Love my Love                                           145
+    O Ye Tears!                                              147
+
+  MAHONEY, FRANCIS (1805-1866).
+    The Bells of Shandon                                     149
+
+  MASSEY, GERALD (1828).
+    Song                                                     153
+
+  O'SHAUGHNESSY, ARTHUR (1844-1881).
+    A Love Symphony                                          156
+    I made Another Garden                                    158
+
+  PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE (1825-1864).
+    The Lost Chord                                           160
+    Sent to Heaven                                           162
+
+  PROCTER, B. W. (BARRY CORNWALL) (1787-1874).
+    The Poet's Song to his Wife                              165
+    A Petition to Time                                       167
+    A Bacchanalian Song                                      168
+    She was not Fair nor Full of Grace                       170
+    The Sea-King                                             172
+    A Serenade                                               174
+    King Death                                               176
+    Sit Down, Sad Soul                                       178
+    A Drinking Song                                          180
+    Peace! What do Tears Avail?                              182
+    The Sea                                                  184
+
+  ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G. (1830-1895).
+    Song                                                     186
+    Song                                                     188
+    Song                                                     189
+    Three Seasons                                            190
+
+  ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL (1828-1882).
+    A Little While                                           191
+    Sudden Light                                             193
+    Three Shadows                                            194
+
+  SCOTT, WILLIAM BELL (1812-1890).
+    Parting and Meeting Again                                196
+
+  SKIPSEY, JOSEPH (1832).
+    A Merry Bee                                              198
+    The Songstress                                           199
+    The Violet and the Rose                                  200
+
+  STERRY, J. ASHBY.
+    Regrets                                                  201
+    Daisy's Dimples                                          203
+    A Lover's Lullaby                                        204
+
+  SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES (1837).
+    A Match                                                  205
+    Rondel                                                   208
+    Song                                                     209
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED (1809-1892).
+    The Bugle Song                                           210
+    Break, Break, Break                                      212
+    Tears, Idle Tears                                        213
+    Sweet and Low                                            215
+    Turn, Fortune, Turn thy Wheel                            216
+    Vivien's Song                                            217
+
+  THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE (1811-1863).
+    At the Church Gate                                       218
+    The Mahogany Tree                                        220
+
+  THORNBURY, GEORGE WALTER (1828-1876).
+    Dayrise and Sunset                                       223
+    The Three Troopers                                       225
+    The Cuckoo                                               228
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  AN INDEX TO FIRST LINES
+
+    Listen--Songs thou 'lt hear
+    Through the wide world ringing.
+
+        Barry Cornwall.
+
+
+                   Page
+
+  A baby was sleeping
+      _Samuel Lover_                                         141
+  "A cup for hope!" she said
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                190
+  A golden bee a-cometh
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       198
+  A little shadow makes the sunrise sad
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      52
+  A little while a little love
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               191
+  A thousand voices fill my ears
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      45
+  Across the grass I see her pass
+      _Austin Dobson_                                         81
+  Ah, what avails the sceptered race!
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 127
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     121
+  All glorious as the Rainbow's birth
+      _Gerald Massey_                                        153
+  All through the sultry hours of June
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      54
+  Along the garden ways just now
+      _Arthur O'Shaughnessy_                                 156
+  Although I enter not
+      _William Makepeace Thackeray_                          218
+  As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             139
+  As I came round the harbor buoy
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         116
+  Awake!--The starry midnight Hour
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     174
+  Awake thee, my Lady-love!
+      _George Darley_                                         64
+  Back flies my soul to other years
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       199
+  Break, break, break
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      212
+
+  Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           23
+  Christmas is here
+      _William Makepeace Thackeray_                          220
+  Come, rosy Day!
+      _Sir Edwin Arnold_                                      20
+  Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     172
+  Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas
+      _Dinah Maria Mulock Craik_                              56
+
+  Drink, and fill the night with mirth!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     180
+
+  Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold
+      _Hamilton Aïdé_                                          7
+
+  Fast falls the snow, O lady mine
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      49
+  First the fine, faint, dreamy motion
+      _Norman Gale_                                           98
+
+  Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow
+      _Alfred Domett_                                         84
+  How many Summers, love
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     165
+  How many times do I love thee, dear?
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 38
+
+  I bring a garland for your head
+      _Edmund Gosse_                                         101
+  I had a Message to send her
+      _Adelaide Anne Procter_                                162
+  I have been here before
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               193
+  I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         118
+  I looked and saw your eyes
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               194
+  I made another garden, yea
+      _Arthur O'Shaughnessy_                                 158
+  I remember, I remember
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          106
+  I sat beside the streamlet
+      _Hamilton Aïdé_                                          3
+  I wandered by the brook-side
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        111
+  I walked in the lonesome evening
+      _William Allingham_                                     16
+  If I could choose my paradise
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           22
+  If love were what the rose is
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           205
+  If there were dreams to sell
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 30
+  I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary
+      _Lady Dufferin_                                         90
+  In Clementina's artless mien
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 131
+  In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      217
+  Into the Devil tavern
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              225
+  It was not in the winter
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          102
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+      _George Darley_                                         62
+
+  King Death was a rare old fellow!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     176
+  Kissing her hair I sat against her feet.
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           208
+
+  Lady! in this night of June
+      _Alfred Austin_                                         26
+  Last time I parted from my Dear
+      _William Bell Scott_                                   196
+  Let us wreathe the mighty cup
+      _Michael Field_                                         96
+  Little dimples so sweet and soft
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      203
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   42
+  Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear
+      _Sir Edwin Arnold_                                      18
+
+  Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      204
+  Mother, I can not mind my wheel
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 133
+  My fairest child, I have no song to give you
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     126
+  My goblet's golden lips are dry
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 34
+  My love, on a fair May morning
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           24
+  My roses blossom the whole year round
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   41
+
+  O for the look of those pure gray eyes
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      201
+  O happy buds of violet!
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      53
+  "O Heart, my heart!" she said, and heard
+      _Dinah Maria Mulock Craik_                              58
+  O lady, leave thy silken thread
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          104
+  O lips that mine have grown into
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           209
+  O Love is like the roses
+      _Robert Buchanan_                                       48
+  O May, thou art a merry time
+      _George Darley_                                         60
+  O roses for the flush of youth
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                188
+  O spirit of the Summertime!
+      _William Allingham_                                     13
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow
+      _Charles Mackay_                                       147
+  Often I have heard it said
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 128
+  Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green
+      _Charles Dickens_                                       75
+  Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear
+      _William Allingham_                                     14
+  Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by
+      _Hamilton Aïdé_                                          6
+  Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!
+      _William Allingham_                                      9
+  "Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home"
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     122
+  One lovely name adorns my song
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 133
+
+  Peace! what can tears avail?
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     182
+
+  Seated one day at the Organ
+      _Adelaide Anne Procter_                                160
+  Seek not the tree of silkiest bark
+      _Aubrey de Vere_                                        72
+  She was not fair, nor full of grace
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     170
+  She 's up and gone, the graceless Girl
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          108
+  Sing!--Who sings
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     168
+  Sit down, sad soul, and count
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     178
+  Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!
+      _Robert Buchanan_                                       46
+  Sleep! the bird is in its nest
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   39
+  Softly, O midnight Hours!
+      _Audrey de Vere_                                        70
+  Strew not earth with empty stars
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 35
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      215
+  Sweet is childhood--childhood 's over
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         120
+  Sweet mouth! O let me take
+      _Alfred Domett_                                         86
+
+  Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      213
+  Terrace and lawn are white with frost
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      50
+  Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 132
+  The fault is not mine if I love you too much
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 129
+  The ladies of St. James's
+      _Austin Dobson_                                         77
+  The night has a thousand eyes
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      44
+  The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     184
+  The splendour falls on castle walls
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      210
+  The stars are with the voyager
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          110
+  The streams that wind amid the hills
+      _George Darley_                                         63
+  The Sun came through the frosty mist
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        115
+  The Violet invited my kiss
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       200
+  There is no summer ere the swallows come.
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      43
+  Three fishers went sailing away to the West
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     124
+  To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 33
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     167
+  Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud!
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      216
+  Two doves upon the selfsame branch
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                189
+
+  Under the lindens lately sat
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 130
+
+  Wait but a little while
+      _Norman Gale_                                           99
+  We have loiter'd and laugh'd in the flowery croft
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             134
+  We heard it calling, clear and low
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             137
+  What is the meaning of the song
+      _Charles Mackay_                                       145
+  "What will you do, love, when I am going"
+      _Samuel Lover_                                         143
+  When a warm and scented steam
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              228
+  When along the light ripple the far serenade
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        113
+  When another's voice thou hearest
+      _Lady Dufferin_                                         88
+  When I am dead, my dearest
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                186
+  When I was young, I said to Sorrow
+      _Aubrey de Vere_                                        74
+  When Spring casts all her swallows forth
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              223
+  When the snow begins to feather
+      _Lord de Tabley_                                        66
+  Where winds abound
+      _Michael Field_                                         97
+  Who is the baby, that doth lie
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 36
+  Winds to-day are large and free
+      _Michael Field_                                         94
+  With deep affection
+      _Francis Mahoney_                                      149
+  Woo thy lass while May is here
+      _Lord de Tabley_                                        69
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+    Their songs wake singing echoes in my land.
+
+        Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low                     _Frontispiece_
+  "Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by"                     6
+  Across the Sea                                              16
+  "My love on a fair May morning"                             24
+  Song in the Garden                                          38
+  The night has a thousand eyes                               44
+  A Game of Chess                                             50
+  "I 've been roaming, I 've been roaming"                    62
+  "A maid I know,--and March winds blow"                      82
+  "That bright May morning long ago"                          90
+  "I remember, I remember"                                   106
+  I wandered by the brook-side                               112
+  "Three fishers went sailing away to the West"              124
+  Ianthe                                                     132
+  Gertrude's Necklace                                        140
+  "She turned back at the last to wait"                      158
+  King Death                                                 176
+  "I looked and saw your eyes"                               194
+  Break, Break, Break                                        212
+  "When Spring casts all her swallows forth"                 224
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION
+
+    The writer of prose, by intelligence taught,
+    Says the thing that will please, in the way that he ought.
+
+        Frederick Locker-Lampson.
+
+
+_No species of poetry is more ancient than the lyrical, and yet none
+shows so little sign of having outlived the requirements of human
+passion. The world may grow tired of epics and of tragedies, but each
+generation, as it sees the hawthorns blossom and the freshness of
+girlhood expand, is seized with a pang which nothing but the spasm of
+verse will relieve. Each youth imagines that spring-tide and love are
+wonders which he is the first of human beings to appreciate, and he
+burns to alleviate his emotion in rhyme. Historians exaggerate, perhaps,
+the function of music in awakening and guiding the exercise of lyrical
+poetry. The lyric exists, they tell us, as an accompaniment to the lyre;
+and without the mechanical harmony the spoken song is an artifice. Quite
+as plausibly might it be avowed that music was but added to verse to
+concentrate and emphasize its rapture, to add poignancy and volume to
+its expression. But the truth is that these two arts, though sometimes
+happily allied, are, and always have been, independent. When verse has
+been innocent enough to lean on music, we may be likely to find that
+music also has been of the simplest order, and that the pair of them,
+like two delicious children, have tottered and swayed together down the
+flowery meadows of experience. When either poetry or music is adult, the
+presence of each is a distraction to the other, and each prefers, in the
+elaborate ages, to stand alone, since the mystery of the one confounds
+the complexity of the other. Most poets hate music; few musicians
+comprehend the nature of poetry; and the combination of these arts has
+probably, in all ages, been contrived, not for the satisfaction of
+artists, but for the convenience of their public._
+
+_This divorce between poetry and music has been more frankly accepted in
+the present century than ever before, and is nowadays scarcely opposed
+in serious criticism. If music were a necessary ornament of lyrical
+verse, the latter would nowadays scarcely exist; but we hear less and
+less of the poets devotion (save in a purely conventional sense) to the
+lute and the pipe. What we call the Victorian lyric is absolutely
+independent of any such aid. It may be that certain songs of Tennyson
+and Christina Rossetti have been with great popularity "set," as it is
+called, "to music." So far as the latter is in itself successful, it
+stultifies the former; and we admit at last that the idea of one art
+aiding another in this combination is absolutely fictitious. The
+beauty--even the beauty of sound--conveyed by the ear in such lyrics as
+"Break, break, break," or "When I am dead, my dearest," is obscured, is
+exchanged for another and a rival species of beauty, by the most
+exquisite musical setting that a composer can invent._
+
+_The age which has been the first to accept this condition, then, should
+be rich in frankly lyrical poetry; and this we find to be the case with
+the Victorian period. At no time has a greater mass of this species of
+verse been produced, not even in the combined Elizabethan and Jacobean
+age. But when we come to consider the quality of this later harvest of
+song, we observe in it a far less homogeneous character. We can take a
+piece of verse, and decide at sight that it must be Elizabethan, or of
+the age of the Pléiade in France, or of a particular period in Italy.
+Even an ode of our own eighteenth century is hardly to be confounded
+with a fragment from any other school. The great Georgian age introduced
+a wide variety into English poetry; and yet we have but to examine the
+selected jewels strung into so exquisite a carcanet by Mr. Palgrave in
+his "Golden Treasury" to notice with surprise how close a family
+likeness exists between the contributions of Shelley, Wordsworth, Keats,
+and Byron. The distinctions of style, of course, are very great; but the
+general character of the diction, the imagery, even of the rhythm, is
+more or less identical. The stamp of the same age is upon them,--they
+are hall-marked 1820._
+
+_It is perhaps too early to decide that this will never be the case with
+the Victorian lyrics. While we live in an age we see the distinction of
+its parts, rather than their co-relation. It is said that the Japanese
+Government once sent over a Commission to report upon the art of Europe;
+and that, having visited the exhibitions of London, Paris, Florence, and
+Berlin, the Commissioners confessed that the works of the European
+painters all looked so exactly alike that it was difficult to
+distinguish one from another. The Japanese eye, trained in absolutely
+opposed conventions, could not tell the difference between a Watts and a
+Fortuny, a Théodore Rousseau and a Henry Moore. So it is quite possible,
+it is even probable, that future critics may see a close similarity
+where we see nothing but divergence between the various productions of
+the Victorian age. Yet we can judge but what we discern; and certainly
+to the critical eye to-day it is the absence of a central tendency, the
+chaotic cultivation of all contrivable varieties of style, which most
+strikingly seems to distinguish the times we live in._
+
+_We use the word "Victorian" in literature to distinguish what was
+written after the decline of that age of which Walter Scott, Coleridge,
+and Wordsworth were the survivors. It is well to recollect, however,
+that Tennyson, who is the Victorian writer_ par excellence, _had
+published the most individual and characteristic of his lyrics long
+before the Queen ascended the throne, and that Elizabeth Barrett, Henry
+Taylor, William Barnes, and others were by this date of mature age. It
+is difficult to remind ourselves, who have lived in the radiance of that
+august figure, that some of the most beautiful of Tennyson's lyrics,
+such as "Mariana" and "The Dying Swan" are now separated from us by as
+long a period of years as divided them from Dr. Johnson and the author
+of "Night Thoughts." The reflection is of value only as warning us of
+the extraordinary length of the epoch we still call "Victorian." It
+covers, not a mere generation, but much more than half a century. During
+this length of time a complete revolution in literary taste might have
+been expected to take place. This has not occurred, and the cause may
+very well be the extreme license permitted to the poets to adopt
+whatever style they pleased. Where all the doors stand wide open, there
+is no object in escaping; where there is but one door, and that one
+barred, it is human nature to fret for some violent means of evasion.
+How divine have been the methods of the Victorian lyrists may easily be
+exemplified_:--
+
+  _"Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife
+    To heart of neither wife nor maid,
+  Lead we not here a jolly life
+    Betwixt the shine and shade?_
+
+  _"Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife
+    To tongue of neither wife nor maid,
+  Thou wagg'st, but I am worn with strife,
+    And feel like flowers that fade."_
+
+_That is a masterpiece, but so is this:--_
+
+  _"Nay, but you who do not love her,
+    Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
+  Holds earth aught--speak truth--above her?
+    Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
+  And this last fairest tress of all,
+  --So fair, see, ere I let it fall?_
+
+  _"Because, you spend your lives in praisings,
+    To praise, you search the wide world over:
+  Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
+    If earth holds aught--speak truth--above her?
+  Above this tress, and this I touch,
+  But cannot praise, I love so much!"_
+
+_And so is this:--_
+
+  _"Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie.
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will._
+
+  _"This be the verse yon grave for me:
+  Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor, home from sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill."_
+
+_But who would believe that the writers of these were contemporaries?_
+
+_If we examine more closely the forms which lyric poetry has taken since
+1830, we shall find that certain influences at work in the minds of our
+leading writers have led to the widest divergence in the character of
+lyrical verse. It will be well, perhaps, to consider in turn the leading
+classes of that work. It was not to be expected that in an age of such
+complexity and self-consciousness as ours, the pure song, the simple
+trill of bird-like melody, should often or prominently be heard. As
+civilization spreads, it ceases to be possible, or at least it becomes
+less and less usual, that simple emotion should express itself with
+absolute naïveté. Perhaps Burns was the latest poet in these islands
+whose passion warbled forth in perfectly artless strains; and he had the
+advantage of using a dialect still unsubdued and unvulgarized.
+Artlessness nowadays must be the result of the most exquisitely finished
+art; if not, it is apt to be insipid, if not positively squalid and
+fusty. The obvious uses of simple words have been exhausted; we cannot,
+save by infinite pains and the exercise of a happy genius, recover the
+old spontaneous air, the effect of an inevitable arrangement of the only
+possible words._
+
+_This beautiful direct simplicity, however, was not infrequently secured
+by Tennyson, and scarcely less often by Christina Rossetti, both of whom
+have left behind them jets of pure emotional melody which compare to
+advantage with the most perfect specimens of Greek and Elizabethan song.
+Tennyson did not very often essay this class of writing, but when he
+did, he rarely failed; his songs combine, with extreme naturalness and
+something of a familiar sweetness, a felicity of workmanship hardly to
+be excelled. In her best songs, Miss Rossetti is scarcely, if at all,
+his inferior; but her judgment was far less sure, and she was more ready
+to look with complacency on her failures. The songs of Mr. Aubrey de
+Vere are not well enough known; they are sometimes singularly charming.
+Other poets have once or twice succeeded in catching this clear natural
+treble,--the living linnet once captured in the elm, as Tusitala puts
+it; but this has not been a gift largely enjoyed by our Victorian
+poets._
+
+_The richer and more elaborate forms of lyric, on the contrary, have
+exactly suited this curious and learned age of ours. The species of
+verse which, originally Italian or French, have now so abundantly and so
+admirably been practised in England that we can no longer think of them
+as exotic, having found so many exponents in the Victorian period that
+they are pre-eminently characteristic of it. "Scorn not the Sonnet,"
+said Wordsworth to his contemporaries; but the lesson has not been
+needed in the second half of the century. The sonnet is the most solid
+and unsingable of the sections of lyrical poetry; it is difficult to
+think of it as chanted to a musical accompaniment. It is used with great
+distinction by writers to whom skill in the lighter divisions of poetry
+has been denied, and there are poets, such as Bowles and Charles
+Tennyson-Turner, who live by their sonnets alone. The practice of the
+sonnet has been so extended that all sense of monotony has been lost. A
+sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning differs from one by D. G. Rossetti
+or by Matthew Arnold to such excess as to make it difficult for us to
+realize that the form in each case is absolutely identical._
+
+_With the sonnet might be mentioned the lighter forms of elaborate
+exotic verse; but to these a word shall be given later on. More closely
+allied to the sonnet are those rich and somewhat fantastic
+stanza-measures in which Rossetti delighted. Those in which Keats and
+the Italians have each their part have been greatly used by the
+Victorian poets. They lend themselves to a melancholy magnificence, to
+pomp of movement and gorgeousness of color; the very sight of them gives
+the page the look of an ancient blazoned window. Poems of this class are
+"The Stream's Secret" and the choruses in "Love is enough." They satisfy
+the appetite of our time for subtle and vague analysis of emotion, for
+what appeals to the spirit through the senses; but here, again, in
+different hands, the "thing," the metrical instrument, takes wholly
+diverse characters, and we seek in vain for a formula that can include
+Robert Browning and Gabriel Rossetti, William Barnes and Arthur Hugh
+Clough._
+
+_From this highly elaborated and extended species of lyric the
+transition is easy to the Ode. In the Victorian age, the ode, in its
+full Pindaric sense, has not been very frequently used. We have
+specimens by Mr. Swinburne in which the Dorian laws are closely adhered
+to. But the ode, in a more or less irregular form, whether pæan or
+threnody, has been the instrument of several of our leading lyrists. The
+genius of Mr. Swinburne, even to a greater degree than that of Shelley,
+is essentially dithyrambic, and is never happier than when it spreads
+its wings as wide as those of the wild swan, and soars upon the very
+breast of tempest. In these flights Mr. Swinburne attains to a volume of
+sonorous melody such as no other poet, perhaps, of the world has
+reached, and we may say to him, as he has shouted to the Mater
+Triumphalis:--_
+
+  _"Darkness to daylight shall lift up thy pæan,
+    Hill to hill thunder, vale cry back to vale,
+  With wind-notes as of eagles Æschylean,
+    And Sappho singing in the nightingale."_
+
+_Nothing could mark more picturesquely the wide diversity permitted in
+Victorian lyric than to turn from the sonorous and tumultuous odes of
+Mr. Swinburne to those of Mr. Patmore, in which stateliness of
+contemplation and a peculiar austerity of tenderness find their
+expression in odes of iambic cadence, the melody of which depends, not
+in their headlong torrent of sound, but in the cunning variation of
+catalectic pause. A similar form has been adopted by Lord De Tabley for
+many of his gorgeous studies of antique myth, and by Tennyson for his
+"Death of the Duke of Wellington." It is an error to call these iambic
+odes "irregular," although they do not follow the classic rules with
+strophe, antistrophe, and epode. The enchanting "I have led her
+home," in "Maud," is an example of this kind of lyric at its highest
+point of perfection._
+
+_A branch of lyrical poetry which has been very widely cultivated in the
+Victorian age is the philosophical, or gnomic, in which a serious chain
+of thought, often illustrated by complex and various imagery, is held in
+a casket of melodious verse, elaborately rhymed. Matthew Arnold was a
+master of this kind of poetry, which takes its form, through Wordsworth,
+from the solemn and so-called "metaphysical" writers of the seventeenth
+century. We class this interesting and abundant section of verse with
+the lyrical, because we know not by what other name to describe it; yet
+it has obviously as little as possible of the singing ecstasy about it.
+It neither pours its heart out in a rapture, nor wails forth its
+despair. It has as little of the nightingale's rich melancholy as of the
+lark's delirium. It hardly sings, but, with infinite decorum and
+sobriety, speaks its melodious message to mankind. This sort of
+philosophical poetry is really critical; its function is to analyze and
+describe; and it approaches, save for the enchantment of its form,
+nearer to prose than do the other sections of the art. It is, however,
+just this species of poetry which has particularly appealed to the age
+in which we live; and how naturally it does so may be seen in the
+welcome extended to the polished and serene compositions of Mr. William
+Watson._
+
+_Almost a creation, or at least a complete conquest, of the Victorian
+age is the humorous lyric in its more delicate developments. If the past
+can point to Prior and to Praed, we can boast, in their various
+departments, of Calverly, of Locker-Lampson, of Mr. Andrew Lang, of
+Mr. W. S. Gilbert. The comic muse, indeed, has marvellously extended her
+blandishments during the last two generations, and has discovered
+methods of trivial elegance which were quite unknown to our forefathers.
+Here must certainly be said a word in favor of those French forms of
+verse, all essentially lyrical, such as the ballad, the rondel, the
+triolet, which have been used so abundantly as to become quite a feature
+in our lighter literature. These are not, or are but rarely, fitted to
+bear the burden of high emotion; but their precision, and the deftness
+which their use demands fit them exceedingly well for the more
+distinguished kind of persiflage. No one has kept these delicate
+butterflies in flight with the agile movement of his fan so admirably as
+Mr. Austin Dobson, that neatest of magicians._
+
+_Those who write hastily of Victorian lyrical poetry are apt to find
+fault with its lack of spontaneity. It is true that we cannot pretend to
+discover on a greensward so often crossed and re-crossed as the poetic
+language of England many morning dewdrops still glistening on the
+grasses. We have to pay the penalty of our experience in a certain lack
+of innocence. The artless graces of a child seem mincing affectations in
+a grown-up woman. But the poetry of this age has amply made up for any
+lack of innocence by its sumptuous fulness, its variety, its magnificent
+accomplishment, its felicitous response to a multitude of moods and
+apprehensions. It has struck out no new field for itself; it still
+remains where the romantic revolution of 1798 placed it; its aims are
+not other than were those of Coleridge and of Keats. But within that
+defined sphere it has developed a surprising activity. It has occupied
+the attention and become the facile instrument of men of the greatest
+genius, writers of whom any age and any language might be proud. It has
+been tender and fiery, severe and voluminous, gorgeous and marmoreal, in
+turns. It has translated into words feelings so subtle, so transitory,
+moods so fragile and intangible, that the rough hand of prose would but
+have crushed them. And this, surely, indicates the great gift of
+Victorian lyrical poetry to the race. During a time of extreme mental
+and moral restlessness, a time of speculation and evolution, when all
+illusions are tested, all conventions overthrown, when the harder
+elements of life have been brought violently to the front, and where
+there is a temptation for the emancipated mind roughly to reject what is
+not material and obvious, this art has preserved intact the lovelier
+delusions of the spirit, all that is vague and incorporeal and illusory.
+So that for Victorian Lyric generally no better final definition can be
+given than is supplied by Mr. Robert Bridges in a little poem of
+incomparable beauty, which may fitly bring this essay to a close:--_
+
+  _"I have loved flowers that fade,
+    Within whose magic tents
+  Rich hues have marriage made
+    With sweet immemorial scents:
+  A joy of love at sight,--
+  A honeymoon delight,
+  That ages in an hour:--
+  My song be like a flower._
+
+  _"I have loved airs that die
+    Before their charm is writ
+  Upon the liquid sky
+    Trembling to welcome it.
+  Notes that with pulse of fire
+  Proclaim the spirit's desire,
+  Then die, and are nowhere:--
+  My song be like an air."_
+
+    Edmund Gosse.
+
+
+
+
+  Victorian Songs
+
+    "Short swallow-flights of song"
+
+      TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  HAMILTON AÏDÉ.
+
+  1830.
+
+
+  _REMEMBER OR FORGET._
+
+  I.
+
+  I sat beside the streamlet,
+    I watched the water flow,
+  As we together watched it
+    One little year ago;
+  The soft rain pattered on the leaves,
+    The April grass was wet,
+  Ah! folly to remember;--
+    'T is wiser to forget.
+
+  II.
+
+  The nightingales made vocal
+    June's palace paved with gold;
+  I watched the rose you gave me
+    Its warm red heart unfold;
+  But breath of rose and bird's song
+    Were fraught with wild regret.
+  'T is madness to remember;
+    'T were wisdom to forget.
+
+  III.
+
+  I stood among the gold corn,
+    Alas! no more, I knew,
+  To gather gleaner's measure
+    Of the love that fell from you.
+  For me, no gracious harvest--
+    Would God we ne'er had met!
+  'T is hard, Love, to remember, but
+    'T is harder to forget.
+
+  IV.
+
+  The streamlet now is frozen,
+    The nightingales are fled,
+  The cornfields are deserted,
+    And every rose is dead.
+  I sit beside my lonely fire,
+    And pray for wisdom yet--
+  For calmness to remember
+    Or courage to forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _OH, LET ME DREAM._
+
+  FROM "A NINE DAYS' WONDER."
+
+  Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by,
+    Forgetting sorrows that have come between,
+  As sunlight gilds some distant summit high,
+    And leaves the valleys dark that intervene.
+  The phantoms of remorse that haunt
+    The soul, are laid beneath that spell;
+  As, in the music of a chaunt
+    Is lost the tolling of a bell.
+      Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by, etc.
+
+  In youth, we plucked full many a flower that died,
+    Dropped on the pathway, as we danced along;
+  And now, we cherish each poor leaflet dried
+    In pages which to that dear past belong.
+  With sad crushed hearts they yet retain
+    Some semblance of their glories fled;
+  Like us, whose lineaments remain,
+    When all the fires of life are dead.
+              Oh! let me dream, etc.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  _LOVE, THE PILGRIM._
+
+  SUGGESTED BY A SKETCH BY E. BURNE-JONES.
+
+  Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold,
+    When the night and morning meet,
+  Entereth the slumbering city,
+    Stealeth down the silent street;
+  Lingereth round some battered doorway,
+    Leaves unblest some portal grand,
+  And the walls, where sleep the children,
+    Toucheth, with his warm young hand.
+      Love is passing! Love is passing!--
+        Passing while ye lie asleep:
+      In your blessèd dreams, O children,
+        Give him all your hearts to keep!
+
+  Blindfold is this Pilgrim, Maiden.
+    Though to-day he touched thy door,
+  He may pass it by to-morrow--
+    --Pass it--to return no more.
+  Let us then with prayers entreat him,--
+    Youth! her heart, whose coldness grieves,
+  May one morn by Love be softened;
+    Prize the treasure that he leaves.
+      Love is passing! Love is passing!
+        All, with hearts to hope and pray,
+      Bid this pilgrim touch the lintels
+        Of your doorways every day.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
+
+  1824-1889.
+
+
+  _LOVELY MARY DONNELLY._
+
+  Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!
+  If fifty girls were round you, I 'd hardly see the rest;
+  Be what it may the time o' day, the place be where it will,
+  Sweet looks o' Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still.
+
+  Her eyes like mountain water that 's flowing on a rock,
+  How clear they are, how dark they are! they give me many a shock;
+  Red rowans warm in sunshine and wetted with a show'r,
+  Could ne'er express the charming lip that has me in its pow'r.
+
+  Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows lifted up,
+  Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like a china cup,
+  Her hair 's the brag of Ireland, so weighty and so fine;
+  It 's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered in a twine.
+
+  The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded all before,
+  No pretty girl for miles about was missing from the floor;
+  But Mary kept the belt o' love, and O but she was gay!
+  She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my heart away.
+
+  When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete
+  The music nearly kill'd itself to listen to her feet;
+  The fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her so much praised,
+  But bless'd his luck to not be deaf when once her voice she raised.
+
+  And evermore I 'm whistling or lilting what you sung,
+  Your smile is always in my heart, your name beside my tongue;
+  But you 've as many sweethearts as you 'd count on both your hands,
+  And for myself there 's not a thumb or little finger stands.
+
+  'T is you 're the flower o' womankind in country or in town;
+  The higher I exalt you, the lower I 'm cast down.
+  If some great lord should come this way, and see your beauty bright,
+  And you to be his lady, I 'd own it was but right.
+
+  O might we live together in a lofty palace hall,
+  Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall!
+  O might we live together in a cottage mean and small,
+  With sods o' grass the only roof, and mud the only wall!
+
+  O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty 's my distress.
+  It 's far too beauteous to be mine, but I 'll never wish it less.
+  The proudest place would fit your face, and I am poor and low;
+  But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you may go!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O spirit of the Summertime!
+    Bring back the roses to the dells;
+  The swallow from her distant clime,
+    The honey-bee from drowsy cells.
+
+  Bring back the friendship of the sun;
+    The gilded evenings, calm and late,
+  When merry children homeward run,
+    And peeping stars bid lovers wait.
+
+  Bring back the singing; and the scent
+    Of meadowlands at dewy prime;--
+  Oh, bring again my heart's content,
+    Thou Spirit of the Summertime!
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear,
+  The while we dare to call thee dear,
+  So may thy dreams be good, altho'
+  The loving power thou dost not know.
+  As music parts the silence,--lo!
+  Through heaven the stars begin to peep,
+    To comfort us that darkling pine
+    Because those fairer lights of thine
+  Have set into the Sea of Sleep.
+  Yet closèd still thine eyelids keep;
+  And may our voices through the sphere
+    Of Dreamland all as softly rise
+  As through these shadowy rural dells,
+  Where bashful Echo somewhere dwells,
+  And touch thy spirit to as soft replies.
+  May peace from gentle guardian skies,
+  Till watches of the dark are worn,
+  Surround thy bed, and joyous morn
+    Makes all the chamber rosy bright!
+  Good-night!--From far-off fields is borne
+  The drowsy Echo's faint 'Good-night,'--
+    Good-night! Good-night!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _ACROSS THE SEA._
+
+    I walked in the lonesome evening,
+      And who so sad as I,
+    When I saw the young men and maidens
+      Merrily passing by.
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  While the ripples fold upon sands of gold,
+        And I look across the sea.
+
+    I stretch out my hands; who will clasp them?
+      I call,--thou repliest no word.
+    Oh, why should heart-longing be weaker
+      Than the waving wings of a bird!
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  For the tide 's at rest from east to west,
+        And I look across the sea.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+    There 's joy in the hopeful morning,
+      There 's peace in the parting day,
+    There 's sorrow with every lover
+      Whose true love is far away.
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  And the water 's bright in a still moonlight,
+        As I look across the sea.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
+
+  1832.
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear,
+    Sing while she sleeps, "Ah! belle dame, aimez-vous?"
+  Till, dreaming still, she dream that I am here,
+    And wake to find it, as my love is, true;
+  Then, when she listens in her warm white nest,
+    Say in slow music,--softer, tenderer yet,
+  That lute-strings quiver when their tone 's at rest,
+    And my heart trembles when my lips are set.
+
+  Stars! if my sweet love still a-dreaming lies,
+    Shine through the roses for a lover's sake
+  And send your silver to her lidded eyes,
+    Kissing them very gently till she wake;
+  Then while she wonders at the lay and light,
+    Tell her, though morning endeth star and song,
+  That ye live still, when no star glitters bright,
+    And my love lasteth, though it finds no tongue.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A LOVE SONG OF HENRI QUATRE._
+
+        Come, rosy Day!
+        Come quick--I pray--
+  I am so glad when I thee see!
+        Because my Fair,
+        Who is so dear,
+  Is rosy-red and white like thee.
+
+        She lives, I think,
+        On heavenly drink
+  Dawn-dew, which Hebe pours for her;
+        Else--when I sip
+        At her soft lip
+  How smells it of ambrosia?
+
+        She is so fair
+        None can compare;
+  And, oh, her slender waist divine!
+        Her sparkling eyes
+        Set in the skies
+  The morning stars would far outshine!
+
+        Only to hear
+        Her voice so clear
+  The village gathers in the street;
+        And Tityrus,
+        Grown one of us,
+  Leaves piping on his flute so sweet.
+
+        The Graces three,
+        Where'er she be,
+  Call all the Loves to flutter nigh;
+        And what she 'll say,--
+        Speak when she may,--
+  Is full of sense and majesty!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS ASHE.
+
+  1836-1889.
+
+
+  _NO AND YES._
+
+  If I could choose my paradise,
+    And please myself with choice of bliss,
+  Then I would have your soft blue eyes
+    And rosy little mouth to kiss!
+  Your lips, as smooth and tender, child,
+  As rose-leaves in a coppice wild.
+
+  If fate bade choose some sweet unrest,
+    To weave my troubled life a snare,
+  Then I would say "her maiden breast
+    And golden ripple of her hair;"
+  And weep amid those tresses, child,
+  Contented to be thus beguiled.
+
+
+  _AT ALTENAHR._
+
+  1872.
+
+  _Meet we no angels, Pansie?_
+
+  Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,
+    In white, to find her lover;
+  The grass grew proud beneath her feet,
+    The green elm-leaves above her:--
+      Meet we no angels, Pansie?
+
+  She said, "We meet no angels now;"
+    And soft lights streamed upon her;
+  And with white hand she touched a bough;
+    She did it that great honour:--
+      What! meet no angels, Pansie?
+
+  O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes
+    Down-dropped brown eyes so tender!
+  Then what said I?--Gallant replies
+    Seem flattery, and offend her:--
+      But,--meet no angels, Pansie?
+
+
+  _MARIT._
+
+  1869-70.
+
+  _C'est un songe que d'y penser._
+
+  My love, on a fair May morning,
+    Would weave a garland of May:
+  The dew hung frore, as her foot tripped o'er
+    The grass at dawn of the day;
+  On leaf and stalk, in each green wood-walk,
+    Till the sun should charm it away.
+
+  Green as a leaf her kirtle,
+    Her bodice red as a rose:
+  Her white bare feet went softly and sweet
+    By roots where the violet grows;
+  Where speedwells azure as heaven,
+    Their sleepy eyes half close.
+
+  O'er arms as fair as the lilies
+    No sleeve my love drew on:
+  She found a bower of the wildrose flower,
+    And for her breast culled one:
+  And I laugh and know her breasts will grow
+    Or ever a year be gone.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  O sweet dream, wrought of a dear fore-thought,
+    Of a golden time to fall!
+  She seemed to sing, in her wandering,
+    Till doves in the elm-tops tall
+  Grew mute to hear; as her song rang clear
+    How love is the lord of all.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED AUSTIN.
+
+  1835.
+
+
+  _A NIGHT IN JUNE._
+
+  Lady! in this night of June,
+    Fair like thee and holy,
+  Art thou gazing at the moon
+    That is rising slowly?
+      I am gazing on her now:
+      Something tells me, so art thou.
+
+  Night hath been when thou and I
+    Side by side were sitting,
+  Watching o'er the moonlit sky
+    Fleecy cloudlets flitting.
+      Close our hands were linkèd then;
+      When will they be linked again?
+
+  What to me the starlight still,
+    Or the moonbeams' splendour,
+  If I do not feel the thrill
+    Of thy fingers slender?
+      Summer nights in vain are clear,
+      If thy footstep be not near.
+
+  Roses slumbering in their sheaths
+    O'er my threshold clamber,
+  And the honeysuckle wreathes
+    Its translucent amber
+      Round the gables of my home:
+      How is it thou dost not come?
+
+  If thou camest, rose on rose
+    From its sleep would waken;
+  From each flower and leaf that blows
+    Spices would be shaken;
+      Floating down from star and tree,
+      Dreamy perfumes welcome thee.
+
+  I would lead thee where the leaves
+    In the moon-rays glisten;
+  And, where shadows fall in sheaves,
+    We would lean and listen
+      For the song of that sweet bird
+      That in April nights is heard.
+
+  And when weary lids would close,
+    And thy head was drooping,
+  Then, like dew that steeps the rose,
+    O'er thy languor stooping,
+      I would, till I woke a sigh,
+      Kiss thy sweet lips silently.
+
+  I would give thee all I own,
+    All thou hast would borrow,
+  I from thee would keep alone
+    Fear and doubt and sorrow.
+      All of tender that is mine
+      Should most tenderly be thine.
+
+  Moonlight! into other skies,
+    I beseech thee wander.
+  Cruel thus to mock mine eyes,
+    Idle, thus to squander
+      Love's own light on this dark spot;--
+      For my lady cometh not!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES.
+
+  1803-1849.
+
+
+  _DREAM-PEDLARY._
+
+  I.
+
+  If there were dreams to sell,
+    What would you buy?
+  Some cost a passing bell;
+    Some a light sigh,
+  That shakes from Life's fresh crown
+  Only a rose-leaf down.
+  If there were dreams to sell,
+  Merry and sad to tell,
+  And the crier rung the bell,
+    What would you buy?
+
+  II.
+
+  A cottage lone and still,
+    With bowers nigh,
+  Shadowy, my woes to still,
+    Until I die.
+  Such pearl from Life's fresh crown
+  Fain would I shake me down.
+  Were dreams to have at will,
+  This would best heal my ill,
+    This would I buy.
+
+  III.
+
+  But there were dreams to sell
+    Ill didst thou buy;
+  Life is a dream, they tell,
+    Waking, to die.
+  Dreaming a dream to prize,
+  Is wishing ghosts to rise;
+    And, if I had the spell
+    To call the buried well,
+      Which one would I?
+
+  IV.
+
+  If there are ghosts to raise,
+    What shall I call,
+  Out of hell's murky haze,
+    Heaven's blue pall?
+  Raise my loved long-lost boy
+  To lead me to his joy.--
+    There are no ghosts to raise;
+    Out of death lead no ways;
+      Vain is the call.
+
+  V.
+
+  Know'st thou not ghosts to sue
+    No love thou hast.
+  Else lie, as I will do,
+    And breathe thy last.
+  So out of Life's fresh crown
+  Fall like a rose-leaf down.
+    Thus are the ghosts to woo;
+    Thus are all dreams made true,
+      Ever to last!
+
+
+  _SONG FROM THE SHIP._
+
+  FROM "DEATH'S JEST-BOOK."
+
+  To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er;
+    The wanton water leaps in sport,
+  And rattles down the pebbly shore;
+    The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,
+  And unseen Mermaids' pearly song
+  Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.
+    Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:
+    To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er.
+
+  To sea, to sea! Our wide-winged bark
+    Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,
+  And with its shadow, fleet and dark,
+    Break the caved Tritons' azure day,
+  Like mighty eagle soaring light
+  O'er antelopes on Alpine height.
+    The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,
+    The sails swell full. To sea, to sea!
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  My goblet's golden lips are dry,
+    And, as the rose doth pine
+    For dew, so doth for wine
+      My goblet's cup;
+  Rain, O! rain, or it will die;
+      Rain, fill it up!
+
+  Arise, and get thee wings to-night,
+    Ætna! and let run o'er
+    Thy wines, a hill no more,
+      But darkly frown
+  A cloud, where eagles dare not soar,
+      Dropping rain down.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "THE SECOND BROTHER."
+
+  Strew not earth with empty stars,
+    Strew it not with roses,
+  Nor feathers from the crest of Mars,
+    Nor summer's idle posies.
+  'T is not the primrose-sandalled moon,
+    Nor cold and silent morn,
+  Nor he that climbs the dusty noon,
+  Nor mower war with scythe that drops,
+  Stuck with helmed and turbaned tops
+    Of enemies new shorn.
+  Ye cups, ye lyres, ye trumpets know,
+  Pour your music, let it flow,
+  'T is Bacchus' son who walks below.
+
+
+  _SONG, BY TWO VOICES._
+
+  FROM "THE BRIDES' TRAGEDY."
+
+  FIRST VOICE.
+
+  Who is the baby, that doth lie
+  Beneath the silken canopy
+  Of thy blue eye?
+
+  SECOND.
+
+  It is young Sorrow, laid asleep
+  In the crystal deep.
+
+  BOTH.
+
+  Let us sing his lullaby,
+  Heigho! a sob and a sigh.
+
+  FIRST VOICE.
+
+  What sound is that, so soft, so clear,
+  Harmonious as a bubbled tear
+  Bursting, we hear?
+
+  SECOND.
+
+  It is young Sorrow, slumber breaking,
+  Suddenly awaking.
+
+  BOTH.
+
+  Let us sing his lullaby,
+  Heigho! a sob and a sigh.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "TORRISMOND."
+
+  How many times do I love thee, dear?
+    Tell me how many thoughts there be
+      In the atmosphere
+      Of a new-fall'n year,
+  Whose white and sable hours appear
+    The latest flake of Eternity:--
+  So many times do I love thee, dear.
+
+  How many times do I love again?
+    Tell me how many beads there are
+      In a silver chain
+      Of evening rain,
+  Unravelled from the tumbling main,
+    And threading the eye of a yellow star:--
+  So many times do I love again.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM COX BENNETT.
+
+  1820
+
+
+  _CRADLE SONG._
+
+  Sleep! the bird is in its nest;
+  Sleep! the bee is hushed in rest;
+  Sleep! rocked on thy mother's breast!
+          Lullaby!
+  To thy mother's fond heart pressed,
+          Lullaby!
+
+  Sleep! the waning daylight dies;
+  Sleep! the stars dream in the skies;
+  Daisies long have closed their eyes;
+          Lullaby!
+  Calm, how calm on all things lies!
+          Lullaby!
+
+  Sleep then, sleep! my heart's delight!
+  Sleep! and through the darksome night
+  Round thy bed God's angels bright
+          Lullaby!
+  Guard thee till I come with light!
+          Lullaby!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _MY ROSES BLOSSOM THE WHOLE YEAR ROUND._
+
+  My roses blossom the whole year round;
+  For, O they grow on enchanted ground;
+      Divine is the earth
+      Where they spring to birth;
+  On dimpling cheeks with love and mirth,
+        They 're found
+      They 're ever found.
+
+  My lilies no change of seasons heed;
+  Nor shelter from storms or frosts they need;
+      For, O they grow
+      On a neck of snow,
+  Nor all the wintry blasts that blow
+        They heed,
+      They ever heed.
+
+
+  _CRADLE SONG._
+
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+  Baby, hush that little cry!
+        Light is dying,
+        Bats are flying,
+  Bees to-day with work have done;
+  So, till comes the morrow's sun,
+  Let sleep kiss those bright eyes dry!
+        Lullaby! O lullaby!
+
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+  Hushed are all things far and nigh;
+        Flowers are closing,
+        Birds reposing,
+  All sweet things with life have done;
+  Sweet, till dawns the morning sun,
+  Sleep then kiss those blue eyes dry!
+        Lullaby! O lullaby!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  F. W. BOURDILLON.
+
+  1852.
+
+
+  _LOVE'S MEINIE._
+
+  There is no summer ere the swallows come,
+        Nor Love appears,
+  Till Hope, Love's light-winged herald, lifts the gloom
+        Of years.
+
+  There is no summer left when swallows fly,
+        And Love at last,
+  When hopes which filled its heaven droop and die,
+        Is past.
+
+
+  _THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES._
+
+  The night has a thousand eyes,
+    And the day but one;
+  Yet the light of the bright world dies
+    With the dying sun.
+
+  The mind has a thousand eyes,
+    And the heart but one;
+  Yet the light of a whole life dies
+    When love is done.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  _A LOST VOICE._
+
+  A thousand voices fill my ears
+    All day until the light grows pale;
+  But silence falls when night-time nears,
+    And where art thou, sweet nightingale?
+
+  Was that thine echo, faint and far?
+    Nay, all is hushed as heaven above;
+  In earth no voice, in heaven no star,
+    And in my heart no dream of love.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!
+    Without here night is growing,
+  The dead leaf falls, the dark boughs meet,
+    And a chill wind is blowing.
+  Strange shapes are stirring in the night,
+    To the deep breezes wailing,
+  And slow, with wistful gleams of light,
+    The storm-tost moon is sailing.
+
+  Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!
+    Fold thy white hands, my blossom!
+  Thy warm limbs in thy lily sheet,
+    Thy hands upon thy bosom.
+  Though evil thoughts may walk the dark,
+    Not one shall near thy chamber;
+  But shapes divine shall pause to mark,
+    Singing to lutes of amber.
+
+  Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!
+    Though, on thy bosom creeping,
+  Strange hands are laid, to feel the beat
+    Of thy soft heart in sleeping.
+  The brother angels, Sleep and Death,
+    Stop by thy couch and eye thee;
+  And Sleep stoops down to drink thy breath,
+    While Death goes softly by thee!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "LOVE IN WINTER."
+
+  "O Love is like the roses,
+    And every rose shall fall,
+  For sure as summer closes
+    They perish one and all.
+  Then love, while leaves are on the tree,
+    And birds sing in the bowers:
+  When winter comes, too late 't will be
+    To pluck the happy flowers."
+
+  "O Love is like the roses,
+    Love comes, and Love must flee!
+  Before the summer closes
+    Love's rapture and Love's glee!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  MORTIMER COLLINS.
+
+  1827-1876.
+
+
+  _TO F. C._
+
+  20th February 1875.
+
+  Fast falls the snow, O lady mine,
+  Sprinkling the lawn with crystals fine,
+  But by the gods we won't repine
+        While we 're together,
+  We 'll chat and rhyme and kiss and dine,
+        Defying weather.
+
+  So stir the fire and pour the wine,
+  And let those sea-green eyes divine
+  Pour their love-madness into mine:
+        I don't care whether
+  'T is snow or sun or rain or shine
+        If we 're together.
+
+
+  _A GAME OF CHESS._
+
+  Terrace and lawn are white with frost,
+    Whose fretwork flowers upon the panes--
+  A mocking dream of summer, lost
+        'Mid winter's icy chains.
+
+  White-hot, indoors, the great logs gleam,
+    Veiled by a flickering flame of blue:
+  I see my love as in a dream--
+        Her eyes are azure, too.
+
+  She puts her hair behind her ears
+    (Each little ear so like a shell),
+  Touches her ivory Queen, and fears
+        She is not playing well.
+
+  For me, I think of nothing less:
+    I think how those pure pearls become her--
+  And which is sweetest, winter chess
+        Or garden strolls in summer.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  O linger, frost, upon the pane!
+    O faint blue flame, still softly rise!
+  O, dear one, thus with me remain,
+        That I may watch thine eyes!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _MULTUM IN PARVO._
+
+  A little shadow makes the sunrise sad,
+    A little trouble checks the race of joy,
+  A little agony may drive men mad,
+    A little madness may the soul destroy:
+        Such is the world's annoy.
+
+  Ay, and the rose is but a little flower
+    Which the red Queen of all the garden is:
+  And Love, which lasteth but a little hour,
+    A moment's rapture and a moment's kiss,
+        Is what no man would miss.
+
+
+  _VIOLETS AT HOME._
+
+  I.
+
+  O happy buds of violet!
+    I give thee to my sweet, and she
+  Puts them where something sweeter yet
+          Must always be.
+
+  II.
+
+  White violets find whiter rest:
+    For fairest flowers how fair a fate!
+  For me remain, O fragrant breast!
+          Inviolate.
+
+
+  _MY THRUSH._
+
+  All through the sultry hours of June,
+  From morning blithe to golden noon,
+    And till the star of evening climbs
+  The gray-blue East, a world too soon,
+    There sings a Thrush amid the limes.
+
+  God's poet, hid in foliage green,
+  Sings endless songs, himself unseen;
+    Right seldom come his silent times.
+  Linger, ye summer hours serene!
+    Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes.
+
+  ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·
+
+  May I not dream God sends thee there,
+  Thou mellow angel of the air,
+    Even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes
+  With music's soul, all praise and prayer?
+    Is that thy lesson in the limes?
+
+  Closer to God art thou than I:
+  His minstrel thou, whose brown wings fly
+    Through silent æther's sunnier climes.
+  Ah, never may thy music die!
+    Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK.
+
+  1826-1887.
+
+
+  _TOO LATE._
+
+    _"Dowglas, Dowglas, tendir and treu."_
+
+  Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+    In the old likeness that I knew,
+  I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
+    I 'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do;--
+  Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  O to call back the days that are not!
+    My eyes were blinded, your words were few:
+  Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?
+
+  I never was worthy of you, Douglas;
+    Not half worthy the like of you:
+  Now all men beside seem to me like shadows--
+    I love _you_, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+    Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;
+  As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A SILLY SONG._
+
+  "O heart, my heart!" she said, and heard
+        His mate the blackbird calling,
+  While through the sheen of the garden green
+        May rain was softly falling,--
+        Aye softly, softly falling.
+
+  The buttercups across the field
+        Made sunshine rifts of splendour:
+  The round snow-bud of the thorn in the wood
+        Peeped through its leafage tender,
+        As the rain came softly falling.
+
+  "O heart, my heart!" she said and smiled,
+        "There 's not a tree of the valley,
+  Or a leaf I wis which the rain's soft kiss
+        Freshens in yonder alley,
+        Where the drops keep ever falling,--
+
+  "There 's not a foolish flower i' the grass,
+        Or bird through the woodland calling,
+  So glad again of the coming rain
+        As I of these tears now falling,--
+        These happy tears down falling."
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GEORGE DARLEY.
+
+  1795-1846.
+
+
+  _MAY DAY._
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act III. Scene ii_.
+
+  O may, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  When lasses and their lovers meet
+    Beneath the early village-thorn,
+  And to the sound of tabor sweet
+    Bid welcome to the Maying-morn!
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  When grey-beards and their gossips come
+    With crutch in hand our sports to see,
+  And both go tottering, tattling home,
+    Topful of wine as well as glee!
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  But Youth was aye the time for bliss,
+    So taste it, Shepherds! while ye may:
+  For who can tell that joy like this
+    Will come another holiday?
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+
+  _I'VE BEEN ROAMING._
+
+  FROM "LILIAN OF THE VALE."
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Where the meadow dew is sweet,
+  And like a queen I 'm coming
+    With its pearls upon my feet.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    O'er red rose and lily fair,
+  And like a sylph I 'm coming
+    With their blossoms in my hair.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Where the honeysuckle creeps,
+  And like a bee I 'm coming
+    With its kisses on my lips.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Over hill and over plain,
+  And like a bird I 'm coming
+    To my bower back again!
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _SYLVIA'S SONG._
+
+  The streams that wind amid the hills
+    And lost in pleasure slowly roam,
+  While their deep joy the valley fills,--
+    Even these will leave their mountain home;
+      So may it, Love! with others be,
+      But I will never wend from thee.
+
+  The leaf forsakes the parent spray,
+    The blossom quits the stem as fast;
+  The rose-enamour'd bird will stray
+    And leave his eglantine at last:
+      So may it, Love! with others be,
+      But I will never wend from thee.
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act IV. Scene I_.
+
+  Romanzo sings:
+
+  Awake thee, my Lady-love!
+    Wake thee, and rise!
+  The sun through the bower peeps
+    Into thine eyes!
+
+  Behold how the early lark
+    Springs from the corn!
+  Hark, hark how the flower-bird
+    Winds her wee horn!
+
+  The swallow's glad shriek is heard
+    All through the air!
+  The stock-dove is murmuring
+    Loud as she dare!
+
+  Apollo's winged bugleman
+    Cannot contain,
+  But peals his loud trumpet-call
+    Once and again!
+
+  Then wake thee, my Lady-love,
+    Bird of my bower!
+  The sweetest and sleepiest
+    Bird at this hour!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  LORD DE TABLEY.
+
+  1835.
+
+
+  _A WINTER SKETCH._
+
+  When the snow begins to feather,
+    And the woods begin to roar
+  Clashing angry boughs together,
+    As the breakers grind the shore
+  Nature then a bankrupt goes,
+  Full of wreck and full of woes.
+
+  When the swan for warmer forelands
+    Leaves the sea-firth's icebound edge,
+  When the gray geese from the morelands
+    Cleave the clouds in noisy wedge,
+  Woodlands stand in frozen chains,
+  Hung with ropes of solid rains.
+
+  Shepherds creep to byre and haven,
+    Sheep in drifts are nipped and numb;
+  Some belated rook or raven
+    Rocks upon a sign-post dumb;
+  Mere-waves, solid as a clod,
+  Roar with skaters, thunder-shod.
+
+  All the roofs and chimneys rumble;
+    Roads are ridged with slush and sleet;
+  Down the orchard apples tumble;
+    Ploughboys stamp their frosty feet;
+  Millers, jolted down the lanes,
+  Hardly feel for cold their reins.
+
+  Snipes are calling from the trenches,
+    Frozen half and half at flow;
+  In the porches servant wenches
+    Work with shovels at the snow;
+  Rusty blackbirds, weak of wing,
+  Clean forget they once could sing.
+
+  Dogs and boys fetch down the cattle,
+    Deep in mire and powdered pale;
+  Spinning-wheels commence to rattle;
+    Landlords spice the smoking ale.
+  Hail, white winter, lady fine,
+  In a cup of elder wine!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SECOND MADRIGAL._
+
+  Woo thy lass while May is here;
+    Winter vows are colder.
+  Have thy kiss when lips are near;
+    To-morrow you are older.
+
+  Think, if clear the throstle sing,
+    A month his note will thicken;
+  A throat of gold in a golden spring
+    At the edge of the snow will sicken.
+
+  Take thy cup and take thy girl,
+    While they come for asking;
+  In thy heyday melt the pearl
+    At the love-ray basking.
+
+  Ale is good for careless bards,
+    Wine for wayworn sinners.
+  They who hold the strongest cards
+    Rise from life as winners.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  AUBREY DE VERE.
+
+  1788-1846.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+      Softly, O midnight Hours!
+      Move softly o'er the bowers
+  Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair!
+      For ye have power, men say,
+      Our hearts in sleep to sway,
+  And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.
+      Round ivory neck and arm
+      Enclasp a separate charm:
+  Hang o'er her poised; but breathe nor sigh nor prayer:
+      Silently ye may smile,
+      But hold your breath the while,
+  And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair!
+
+  II.
+
+      Bend down your glittering urns
+      Ere yet the dawn returns,
+  And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;
+      Upon the air rain balm;
+      Bid all the woods be calm;
+  Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed.
+      That so the Maiden may
+      With smiles your care repay
+  When from her couch she lifts her golden head;
+      Waking with earliest birds,
+      Ere yet the misty herds
+  Leave warm 'mid the grey grass their dusky bed.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Seek not the tree of silkiest bark
+    And balmiest bud,
+  To carve her name--while yet 't is dark--
+    Upon the wood!
+  The world is full of noble tasks
+    And wreaths hard-won:
+  Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands,
+    Till day is done.
+
+  Sing not that violet-veinèd skin,
+    That cheek's pale roses;
+  The lily of that form wherein
+    Her soul reposes!
+  Forth to the fight, true man, true knight!
+    The clash of arms
+  Shall more prevail than whispered tale
+    To win her charms.
+
+  The warrior for the True, the Right,
+    Fights in Love's name:
+  The love that lures thee from that fight
+    Lures thee to shame.
+  That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves
+    The spirit free,--
+  That love, or none, is fit for one,
+    Man-shaped like thee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+  When I was young, I said to Sorrow,
+    "Come, and I will play with thee:"--
+      He is near me now all day;
+      And at night returns to say,
+  "I will come again to-morrow,
+    I will come and stay with thee."
+
+  II.
+
+  Through the woods we walk together;
+    His soft footsteps rustle nigh me;
+      To shield an unregarded head,
+      He hath built a winter shed;
+  And all night in rainy weather,
+    I hear his gentle breathings by me.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+  1812-1870.
+
+
+  _THE IVY GREEN._
+
+  Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
+  That creepeth o'er ruins old!
+  Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
+  In his cell so lone and cold.
+  The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
+  To pleasure his dainty whim:
+  And the mouldering dust that years have made
+  Is a merry meal for him.
+      Creeping where no life is seen,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+  Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
+  And a staunch old heart has he.
+  How closely he twineth, how tight he clings,
+  To his friend, the huge Oak tree!
+  And slily he traileth along the ground,
+  And his leaves he gently waves,
+  As he joyously hugs and crawleth round
+  The rich mould of dead men's graves.
+      Creeping where grim death has been,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+  Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,
+  And nations have scattered been;
+  But the stout old Ivy shall never fade
+  From its hale and hearty green.
+  The brave old plant in its lonely days
+  Shall fatten upon the past:
+  For the stateliest building man can raise
+  Is the Ivy's food at last.
+      Creeping on, where time has been,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  AUSTIN DOBSON.
+
+  1840.
+
+
+  _THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S._
+
+  A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    Go swinging to the play;
+  Their footmen run before them,
+    With a "Stand by! Clear the way!"
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    She takes her buckled shoon,
+  When we go out a-courting
+    Beneath the harvest moon.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    Wear satin on their backs;
+  They sit all night at _Ombre_,
+    With candles all of wax:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    She dons her russet gown,
+  And runs to gather May dew
+    Before the world is down.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    They are so fine and fair,
+  You 'd think a box of essences
+    Was broken in the air:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    The breath of heath and furze,
+  When breezes blow at morning,
+    Is scarce so fresh as hers.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    They 're painted to the eyes;
+  Their white it stays forever,
+    Their red it never dies:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Her color comes and goes;
+  It trembles to a lily,
+    It wavers to a rose.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's,
+    With "Mercy!" and with "Lud!"
+  They season all their speeches
+    (They come of noble blood):
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Her shy and simple words
+  Are sweet as, after rain-drops,
+    The music of the birds.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's,
+    They have their fits and freaks;
+  They smile on you--for seconds,
+    They frown on you--for weeks:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Come either storm or shine,
+  From Shrovetide unto Shrovetide
+    Is always true--and mine.
+
+  My Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    I care not though they heap
+  The hearts of all St. James's,
+    And give me all to keep;
+  I care not whose the beauties
+    Of all the world may be,
+  For Phyllida--for Phyllida
+    Is all the world to me!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE MILKMAID._
+
+  A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.
+
+  Across the grass I see her pass;
+    She comes with tripping pace,--
+  A maid I know,--and March winds blow
+    Her hair across her face;--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  The March winds blow. I watch her go:
+    Her eye is brown and clear;
+  Her cheek is brown and soft as down
+    (To those who see it near!)--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  What has she not that they have got,--
+    The dames that walk in silk!
+  If she undo her 'kerchief blue,
+    Her neck is white as milk.
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  Let those who will be proud and chill!
+    For me, from June to June,
+  My Dolly's words are sweet as curds,--
+    Her laugh is like a tune;--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  Break, break to hear, O crocus-spear!
+    O tall Lent-lilies, flame!
+  There 'll be a bride at Easter-tide,
+    And Dolly is her name.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED DOMETT.
+
+  1811-1887.
+
+
+  _A GLEE FOR WINTER._
+
+  Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow,
+  Never merry, never mellow!
+  Well-a-day! in rain and snow
+  What will keep one's heart aglow?
+  Groups of kinsmen, old and young,
+  Oldest they old friends among!
+  Groups of friends, so old and true,
+  That they seem our kinsmen too!
+  These all merry all together,
+  Charm away chill Winter weather!
+
+  What will kill this dull old fellow?
+  Ale that 's bright, and wine that 's mellow!
+  Dear old songs for ever new;
+  Some true love, and laughter too;
+  Pleasant wit, and harmless fun,
+  And a dance when day is done!
+  Music--friends so true and tried--
+  Whispered love by warm fireside--
+  Mirth at all times all together--
+  Make sweet May of Winter weather!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A KISS._
+
+  SAPPHO TO PHAON.
+
+  I.
+
+    Sweet mouth! O let me take
+  One draught from that delicious cup!
+  The hot Sahara-thirst to slake
+        That burns me up!
+
+  II.
+
+    Sweet breath!--all flowers that are,
+  Within that darling frame must bloom;
+  My heart revives so at the rare
+        Divine perfume!
+
+  III.
+
+    --Nay, 't is a dear deceit,
+  A drunkard's cup that mouth of thine;
+  Sure poison-flowers are breathing, sweet,
+        That fragrance fine!
+
+  IV.
+
+    I drank--the drink betrayed me
+  Into a madder, fiercer fever;
+  The scent of those love-blossoms made me
+        More faint than ever!
+
+  V.
+
+    Yet though quick death it were
+  That rich heart-vintage I must drain,
+  And quaff that hidden garden's air,
+        Again--again!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  LADY DUFFERIN.
+
+  1807-1867.
+
+
+  _SONG._[A]
+
+  April 30, 1833.
+
+  I.
+
+  When another's voice thou hearest,
+    With a sad and gentle tone,
+  Let its sound but waken, dearest,
+    Memory of _my_ love alone!
+  When in stranger lands thou meetest
+    Warm, true hearts, which welcome thee,
+  Let each friendly look thou greetest
+    Seem a message, Love, from _me_!
+
+  II.
+
+  When night's quiet sky is o'er thee,
+    When the pale stars dimly burn,
+  Dream that _one_ is watching for thee,
+    Who but lives for thy return!
+  Wheresoe'er thy steps are roving,
+    Night or day, by land or sea,
+  Think of her, whose life of loving
+    Is but one long thought of thee!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+    [Footnote A: These lines were written to the author's husband,
+    then at sea, in 1833, and set to music by herself.]
+
+
+  _LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT._
+
+  I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
+    Where we sat, side by side,
+  That bright May morning long ago
+    When first you were my bride.
+  The corn was springing fresh and green,
+    The lark sang loud and high,
+  The red was on your lip, Mary,
+    The love-light in your eye.
+
+  The place is little changed, Mary,
+    The day is bright as then,
+  The lark's loud song is in my ear,
+    The corn is green again;
+  But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
+    Your breath warm on my cheek,
+  And I still keep list'ning for the words
+    You never more may speak.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  'T is but a step down yonder lane,
+    The little Church stands near--
+  The Church where we were wed, Mary,--
+    I see the spire from here;
+  But the graveyard lies between, Mary,--
+    My step might break your rest,--
+  Where you, my darling, lie asleep
+    With your baby on your breast.
+
+  I 'm very lonely now, Mary,--
+    The poor make no new friends;--
+  But, oh! they love the better still
+    The few our Father sends.
+  And you were all I had, Mary,
+    My blessing and my pride;
+  There 's nothing left to care for now
+    Since my poor Mary died.
+
+  Yours was the good brave heart, Mary,
+    That still kept hoping on,
+  When trust in God had left my soul,
+    And half my strength was gone.
+  There was comfort ever on your lip,
+    And the kind look on your brow.
+  I bless you, Mary, for that same,
+    Though you can't hear me now.
+
+  I thank you for the patient smile
+    When your heart was fit to break;
+  When the hunger pain was gnawing there
+    You hid it for my sake.
+  I bless you for the pleasant word
+    When your heart was sad and sore.
+  Oh! I 'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
+    Where grief can't reach you more!
+
+  I 'm bidding you a long farewell,
+    My Mary--kind and true!
+  But I 'll not forget you, darling,
+    In the land I 'm going to.
+  They say there 's bread and work for all,
+    And the sun shines always there;
+  But I 'll not forget old Ireland,
+    Were it fifty times as fair.
+
+  And when amid those grand old woods
+    I sit and shut my eyes,
+  My heart will travel back again
+    To where my Mary lies;
+  I 'll think I see the little stile
+    Where we sat, side by side,--
+  And the springing corn and bright May morn,
+    When first you were my bride.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  MICHAEL FIELD.
+
+
+  _WINDS TO-DAY ARE LARGE AND FREE._
+
+  Winds to-day are large and free,
+  Winds to-day are westerly;
+  From the land they seem to blow
+  Whence the sap begins to flow
+  And the dimpled light to spread,
+  From the country of the dead.
+
+  Ah, it is a wild, sweet land
+  Where the coming May is planned,
+  Where such influences throb
+  As our frosts can never rob
+  Of their triumph, when they bound
+  Through the tree and from the ground.
+
+  Great within me is my soul,
+  Great to journey to its goal,
+  To the country of the dead;
+  For the cornel-tips are red,
+  And a passion rich in strife
+  Drives me toward the home of life.
+
+  Oh, to keep the spring with them
+  Who have flushed the cornel-stem,
+  Who imagine at its source
+  All the year's delicious course,
+  Then express by wind and light
+  Something of their rapture's height!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _LET US WREATHE THE MIGHTY CUP._
+
+  Let us wreathe the mighty cup,
+  Then with song we 'll lift it up,
+  And, before we drain the glow
+  Of the juice that foams below
+  Flowers and cool leaves round the brim,
+  Let us swell the praise of him
+  Who is tyrant of the heart,
+  Cupid with his flaming dart!
+
+  Pride before his face is bowed,
+  Strength and heedless beauty cowed;
+  Underneath his fatal wings
+  Bend discrowned the heads of kings;
+  Maidens blanch beneath his eye
+  And its laughing mastery;
+  Through each land his arrows sound,
+  By his fetters all are bound.
+
+
+  _WHERE WINDS ABOUND._
+
+  Where winds abound,
+  And fields are hilly,
+  Shy daffadilly
+  Looks down on the ground.
+
+  Rose cones of larch
+  Are just beginning;
+  Though oaks are spinning
+  No oak-leaves in March.
+
+  Spring 's at the core,
+  The boughs are sappy:
+  Good to be happy
+  So long, long before!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  NORMAN GALE.
+
+  1862.
+
+
+  _A SONG._
+
+  First the fine, faint, dreamy motion
+    Of the tender blood
+  Circling in the veins of children--
+    This is Life, the bud.
+
+  Next the fresh, advancing beauty
+    Growing from the gloom,
+  Waking eyes and fuller bosom--
+    This is Life, the bloom.
+
+  Then the pain that follows after,
+    Grievous to be borne,
+  Pricking, steeped in subtle poison--
+    This is Love, the thorn.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The bird will bring
+  A heart in tune for melodies
+    Unto the spring,
+  Till he who 's in the cedar there
+  Is moved to trill a song so rare,
+  And pipe her fair.
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The bud will break;
+  The inner rose will ope and glow
+    For summer's sake;
+  Fond bees will lodge within her breast
+  Till she herself is plucked and prest
+  Where I would rest.
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The maid will grow
+  Gracious with lips and hands to thee,
+    With breast of snow.
+  To-day Love 's mute, but time hath sown
+  A soul in her to match thine own,
+  Though yet ungrown.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  EDMUND GOSSE.
+
+  1849.
+
+
+  _SONG FOR THE LUTE._
+
+  I bring a garland for your head
+    Of blossoms fresh and fair;
+  My own hands wound their white and red
+    To ring about your hair:
+  Here is a lily, here a rose,
+  A warm narcissus that scarce blows,
+  And fairer blossoms no man knows.
+
+  So crowned and chapleted with flowers,
+    I pray you be not proud;
+  For after brief and summer hours
+    Comes autumn with a shroud;--
+  Though fragrant as a flower you lie,
+  You and your garland, bye and bye,
+  Will fade and wither up and die.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS HOOD.
+
+  1798-1845.
+
+
+  _BALLAD._
+
+  I.
+
+  It was not in the winter
+  Our loving lot was cast;
+  It was the time of roses,--
+  We plucked them as we passed;
+
+  II.
+
+  That churlish season never frowned
+  On early lovers yet:--
+  Oh, no--the world was newly crowned
+  With flowers when first we met!
+
+  III.
+
+  'T was twilight, and I bade you go,
+  But still you held me fast;
+  It was the time of roses,--
+  We plucked them as we passed.--
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O Lady, leave thy silken thread
+    And flowery tapestrie:
+  There 's living roses on the bush,
+    And blossoms on the tree;
+  Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
+    Some random bud will meet;
+  Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
+    The daisy at thy feet.
+
+  'T is like the birthday of the world,
+    When earth was born in bloom;
+  The light is made of many dyes,
+    The air is all perfume;
+  There 's crimson buds, and white and blue--
+    The very rainbow showers
+  Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
+    And sown the earth with flowers.
+
+  There 's fairy tulips in the east,
+    The garden of the sun;
+  The very streams reflect the hues,
+    And blossom as they run:
+  While Morn opes like a crimson rose,
+    Still wet with pearly showers;
+  Then, Lady, leave the silken thread
+    Thou twinest into flowers!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER._
+
+  I remember, I remember,
+  The house where I was born,
+  The little window where the sun
+  Came peeping in at morn;
+  He never came a wink too soon,
+  Nor brought too long a day,
+  But now, I often wish the night
+  Had borne my breath away!
+
+  I remember, I remember,
+  The roses, red and white,
+  The vi'lets, and the lily-cups,
+  Those flowers made of light!
+  The lilacs where the robin built,
+  And where my brother set
+  The laburnum on his birthday,--
+  The tree is living yet!
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  I remember, I remember
+  Where I was used to swing,
+  And thought the air must rush as fresh
+  To swallows on the wing;
+  My spirit flew in feathers then,
+  That is so heavy now,
+  And summer pools could hardly cool
+  The fever on my brow!
+
+  I remember, I remember
+  The fir trees dark and high;
+  I used to think their slender tops
+  Were close against the sky:
+  It was a childish ignorance,
+  But now 't is little joy
+  To know I 'm farther off from heav'n
+  Than when I was a boy.
+
+
+  _BALLAD._
+
+  She 's up and gone, the graceless Girl!
+    And robbed my failing years;
+  My blood before was thin and cold
+    But now 't is turned to tears;--
+  My shadow falls upon my grave,
+   So near the brink I stand,
+  She might have stayed a little yet,
+    And led me by the hand!
+
+  Ay, call her on the barren moor,
+    And call her on the hill,
+  'T is nothing but the heron's cry,
+    And plover's answer shrill;
+  My child is flown on wilder wings,
+    Than they have ever spread,
+  And I may even walk a waste
+    That widened when she fled.
+
+  Full many a thankless child has been,
+    But never one like mine;
+  Her meat was served on plates of gold,
+    Her drink was rosy wine;
+  But now she 'll share the robin's food,
+    And sup the common rill,
+  Before her feet will turn again
+    To meet her father's will!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+  The stars are with the voyager
+    Wherever he may sail;
+  The moon is constant to her time;
+    The sun will never fail;
+  But follow, follow round the world,
+    The green earth and the sea;
+  So love is with the lover's heart,
+    Wherever he may be.
+
+  II.
+
+  Wherever he may be, the stars
+    Must daily lose their light;
+  The moon will veil her in the shade;
+    The sun will set at night.
+  The sun may set, but constant love
+    Will shine when he 's away;
+  So that dull night is never night,
+    And day is brighter day.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES (LORD HOUGHTON).
+
+  1809-1885.
+
+
+  _THE BROOKSIDE._
+
+  I wandered by the brook-side,
+    I wandered by the mill,--
+  I could not hear the brook flow,
+    The noisy wheel was still;
+  There was no burr of grasshopper,
+    No chirp of any bird,
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  I sat beside the elm-tree,
+    I watched the long, long, shade,
+  And as it grew still longer,
+    I did not feel afraid;
+  For I listened for a footfall,
+    I listened for a word,--
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  He came not,--no, he came not,--
+    The night came on alone,--
+  The little stars sat one by one,
+    Each on his golden throne;
+  The evening air passed by my cheek,
+    The leaves above were stirred,--
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  Fast silent tears were flowing,
+    When something stood behind,--
+  A hand was on my shoulder,
+    I knew its touch was kind:
+  It drew me nearer--nearer,--
+    We did not speak one word,
+  For the beating of our own hearts
+    Was all the sound we heard.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _THE VENETIAN SERENADE._
+
+  When along the light ripple the far serenade
+  Has accosted the ear of each passionate maid,
+  She may open the window that looks on the stream,--
+  She may smile on her pillow and blend it in dream;
+  Half in words, half in music, it pierces the gloom,
+  "I am coming--Stalì[B]--but you know not for whom!
+                Stalì--not for whom!"
+
+  Now the tones become clearer,--you hear more and more
+  How the water divided returns on the oar,--
+  Does the prow of the Gondola strike on the stair?
+  Do the voices and instruments pause and prepare?
+  Oh! they faint on the ear as the lamp on the view,
+  "I am passing--Premì--but I stay not for you!
+                Premì--not for you!"
+
+  Then return to your couch, you who stifle a tear,
+  Then awake not, fair sleeper--believe he is here;
+  For the young and the loving no sorrow endures,
+  If to-day be another's,--to-morrow is yours;
+  May, the next time you listen, your fancy be true,
+  "I am coming--Sciàr--and for you and to you!
+                Sciàr--and to you!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+    [Footnote B: The words here used are the calls of the gondoliers,
+    indicating the direction they are rowing. "Sciàr" is to stop the
+    boat.]
+
+
+  _FROM LOVE AND NATURE._
+
+  The Sun came through the frosty mist
+  Most like a dead-white moon;
+  Thy soothing tones I seemed to list,
+  As voices in a swoon.
+
+  Still as an island stood our ship,
+  The waters gave no sound,
+  But when I touched thy quivering lip
+  I felt the world go round.
+
+  We seemed the only sentient things
+  Upon that silent sea:
+  Our hearts the only living springs
+  Of all that yet could be!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  1830.
+
+
+  _THE LONG WHITE SEAM._
+
+  As I came round the harbor buoy,
+    The lights began to gleam,
+  No wave the land-locked water stirred,
+    The crags were white as cream;
+  And I marked my love by candle-light
+   Sewing her long white seam.
+     It 's aye sewing ashore, my dear,
+       Watch and steer at sea,
+     It 's reef and furl, and haul the line,
+       Set sail and think of thee.
+
+  I climbed to reach her cottage door;
+    O sweetly my love sings!
+  Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth,
+    My soul to meet it springs
+  As the shining water leaped of old,
+    When stirred by angel wings.
+      Aye longing to list anew,
+        Awake and in my dream,
+      But never a song she sang like this,
+        Sewing her long white seam.
+
+  Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights,
+    That brought me in to thee,
+  And peace drop down on that low roof
+    For the sight that I did see,
+  And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear
+    All for the love of me.
+      For O, for O, with brows bent low
+        By the candle's flickering gleam,
+      Her wedding gown it was she wrought,
+        Sewing the long white seam.
+
+
+  _LOVE._
+
+  FROM "SONGS OF SEVEN."
+
+  I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover,
+    Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;
+  "Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover--
+    Hush, nightingale, hush! O, sweet nightingale, wait
+        Till I listen and hear
+        If a step draweth near,
+        For my love he is late!
+
+  "The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer,
+    A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree,
+  The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer:
+    To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see?
+        Let the star-clusters grow,
+        Let the sweet waters flow,
+        And cross quickly to me.
+
+  "You night moths that hover where honey brims over
+    From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep;
+  You glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover
+    To him that comes darkling along the rough steep.
+        Ah, my sailor, make haste,
+        For the time runs to waste,
+        And my love lieth deep--
+
+  "Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover,
+    I 've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night."
+  By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover,
+    Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight;
+        But I 'll love him more, more
+        Than e'er wife loved before,
+        Be the days dark or bright.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SWEET IS CHILDHOOD._
+
+  Sweet is childhood--childhood 's over,
+        Kiss and part.
+  Sweet is youth; but youth 's a rover--
+        So 's my heart.
+  Sweet is rest; but by all showing
+        Toil is nigh.
+  We must go. Alas! the going,
+        Say "good-bye."
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+  1819-1875.
+
+
+  _AIRLY BEACON._
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the pleasant sight to see
+  Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
+    While my love climbed up to me!
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the happy hours we lay
+  Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
+    Courting through the summer's day!
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the weary haunt for me,
+  All alone on Airly Beacon,
+    With his baby on my knee!
+
+
+  _THE SANDS OF DEE._
+
+      "Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home,
+          And call the cattle home,
+          And call the cattle home
+      Across the sands of Dee;"
+  The western wind was wild and dark with foam,
+      And all alone went she.
+
+      The western tide crept up along the sand,
+          And o'er and o'er the sand,
+          And round and round the sand,
+      As far as eye could see.
+  The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
+      And never home came she.
+
+      "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--
+          A tress of golden hair,
+          A drownèd maiden's hair
+      Above the nets at sea?"
+  Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
+      Among the stakes on Dee.
+
+      They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
+          The cruel crawling foam,
+          The cruel hungry foam,
+      To her grave beside the sea:
+  But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
+      Across the sands of Dee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING._
+
+  Three fishers went sailing away to the West,
+    Away to the West as the sun went down;
+  Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
+    And the children stood watching them out of the town;
+  For men must work, and women must weep,
+  And there 's little to earn, and many to keep,
+    Though the harbor bar be moaning.
+
+  Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,
+    And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;
+  They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,
+    And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.
+  But men must work, and women must weep,
+  Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
+    And the harbor bar be moaning.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  Three corpses lay out on the shining sands
+    In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
+  And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
+    For those who will never come home to the town;
+  For men must work, and women must weep,
+  And the sooner it 's over, the sooner to sleep;
+    And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A FAREWELL._
+
+  To C. E. G.--1856.
+
+  My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
+    No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;
+  Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I 'll leave you,
+            For every day.
+
+  I 'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
+    Than lark who hails the dawn of breezy down;
+  To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
+            Than Shakespeare's crown.
+
+  Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;
+    Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long;
+  And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever,
+            One grand sweet song.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+
+  1775-1864.
+
+
+  _ROSE AYLMER._
+
+  Ah, what avails the sceptered race!
+    Ah, what the form divine!
+  What every virtue, every grace!
+    Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
+  Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
+    May weep, but never see,
+  A night of memories and of sighs
+    I consecrate to thee.
+
+
+  _RUBIES._
+
+  Often I have heard it said
+  That her lips are ruby-red.
+  Little heed I what they say,
+  I have seen as red as they.
+  Ere she smiled on other men,
+  Real rubies were they then.
+
+  When she kissed me once in play,
+  Rubies were less bright than they,
+  And less bright were those which shone
+  In the palace of the Sun.
+  Will they be as bright again?
+  Not if kissed by other men.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE FAULT IS NOT MINE._
+
+  The fault is not mine if I love you too much,
+    I loved you too little too long,
+  Such ever your graces, your tenderness such,
+    And the music the heart gave the tongue.
+
+  A time is now coming when Love must be gone,
+    Tho' he never abandoned me yet.
+  Acknowledge our friendship, our passion disown,
+    Our follies (ah can you?) forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _UNDER THE LINDENS._
+
+  Under the lindens lately sat
+  A couple, and no more, in chat;
+  I wondered what they would be at
+              Under the lindens.
+
+  I saw four eyes and four lips meet,
+  I heard the words, _"How sweet! how sweet!"_
+  Had then the Faeries given a treat
+              Under the lindens?
+
+  I pondered long and could not tell
+  What dainty pleased them both so well:
+  Bees! bees! was it your hydromel
+               Under the lindens?
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SIXTEEN._
+
+  In Clementina's artless mien
+    Lucilla asks me what I see,--
+  And are the roses of sixteen
+          Enough for me?
+
+  Lucilla asks, if that be all,
+    Have I not culled as sweet before?
+  Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall
+          I still deplore.
+
+  I now behold another scene,
+    Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light,--
+  More pure, more constant, more serene,
+          And not less bright:
+
+  Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,
+    Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,
+  And Modesty, who, when she goes,
+          Is gone forever!
+
+
+  _IANTHE._
+
+  Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again
+    Our hands and ardent lips shall meet,
+  And Pleasure, to assert his reign,
+    Scatter ten thousand kisses sweet:
+  Then cease repeating while you mourn,
+  "I wonder when he will return."
+
+  Ah wherefore should you so admire
+    The flowing words that fill my song,
+  Why call them artless, yet require
+    "Some promise from that tuneful tongue?"
+  I doubt if heaven itself could part
+  A tuneful tongue and tender heart.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _ONE LOVELY NAME._
+
+  One lovely name adorns my song,
+    And, dwelling in the heart,
+  For ever falters at the tongue,
+    And trembles to depart.
+
+
+  _FORSAKEN._
+
+  Mother, I can not mind my wheel;
+    My fingers ache, my lips are dry;
+  Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
+    But oh, who ever felt as I!
+  No longer could I doubt him true,
+    All other men may use deceit;
+  He always said my eyes were blue,
+    And often swore my lips were sweet.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON.
+
+  1821-1895.
+
+
+  _A GARDEN LYRIC._
+
+      The flow of life is yet a rill
+        That laughs, and leaps, and glistens;
+      And still the woodland rings, and still
+        The old Damoetas listens.
+
+  We have loiter'd and laugh'd in the flowery croft,
+    We have met under wintry skies;
+  Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft
+    Is the light in her gentle eyes;
+  It is bliss in the silent woods, among
+    Gay crowds, or in any place
+  To hear her voice, to gaze on her young
+        Confiding face.
+
+  For ever may roses divinely blow,
+    And wine-dark pansies charm
+  By the prim box path where I felt the glow
+    Of her dimpled, trusting arm,
+  And the sweep of her silk as she turned and smiled
+    A smile as pure as her pearls;
+  The breeze was in love with the darling Child,
+        As it moved her curls.
+
+  She showed me her ferns and woodbine-sprays,
+    Foxglove and jasmine stars,
+  A mist of blue in the beds, a blaze
+    Of red in the celadon jars:
+  And velvety bees in convolvulus bells,
+    And roses of bountiful June--
+  Oh, who would think their summer spells
+        Could die so soon!
+
+  For a glad song came from the milking shed,
+    On a wind of the summer south,
+  And the green was golden above her head,
+    And a sunbeam kiss'd her mouth;
+  Sweet were the lips where that sunbeam dwelt;
+    And the wings of Time were fleet
+  As I gazed; and neither spoke, for we felt
+        Life was so sweet!
+
+  And the odorous limes were dim above
+    As we leant on a drooping bough;
+  And the darkling air was a breath of love,
+    And a witching thrush sang "Now!"
+  For the sun dropt low, and the twilight grew
+    As we listen'd and sigh'd, and leant;
+  That day was the sweetest day--and we knew
+        What the sweetness meant.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE CUCKOO._
+
+  We heard it calling, clear and low,
+      That tender April morn; we stood
+      And listened in the quiet wood,
+  We heard it, ay, long years ago.
+
+  It came, and with a strange, sweet cry,
+      A friend, but from a far-off land;
+      We stood and listened, hand in hand,
+  And heart to heart, my Love and I.
+
+  In dreamland then we found our joy,
+      And so it seemed as 't were the Bird
+      That Helen in old times had heard
+  At noon beneath the oaks of Troy.
+
+  O time far off, and yet so near!
+      It came to her in that hush'd grove,
+      It warbled while the wooing throve,
+  It sang the song she loved to hear.
+
+  And now I hear its voice again,
+      And still its message is of peace,
+      It sings of love that will not cease--
+  For me it never sings in vain.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _GERTRUDE'S NECKLACE._
+
+  As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl,
+  Her Necklace lengthen'd, pearl by pearl;
+  Year after year it grew, and grew,
+  For every birthday gave her two.
+  Her neck is lovely,--soft and fair,
+  And now her Necklace glimmers there.
+
+  So cradled, let it fall and rise,
+  And all her graces symbolize.
+  Perchance this pearl, without a speck,
+  Once was as warm on Sappho's neck;
+  Where are the happy, twilight pearls
+  That braided Beatrice's curls?
+
+  Is Gerty loved? Is Gerty loth?
+  Or, if she 's either, is she both?
+  She 's fancy free, but sweeter far
+  Than many plighted maidens are:
+  Will Gerty smile us all away,
+  And still be Gerty? Who can say?
+
+  But let her wear her Precious Toy,
+  And I 'll rejoice to see her joy:
+  Her bauble 's only one degree
+  Less frail, less fugitive than we,
+  For time, ere long, will snap the skein,
+  And scatter all her Pearls again.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  SAMUEL LOVER.
+
+  1797-1868.
+
+
+  _THE ANGEL'S WHISPER._[C]
+
+        A baby was sleeping,
+        Its mother was weeping,
+  For the husband was far on the wild raging Sea;
+        And the tempest was swelling
+        Round the fisherman's dwelling;
+  And she cried, "Dermot darling, oh come back to me!"
+
+        Her beads while she numbered,
+        The baby still slumbered,
+  And smiled in her face as she bended her knee;
+        "O blest be that warning,
+        My child thy sleep adorning,
+  For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!
+
+        "And while they are keeping
+        Bright watch o'er thy sleeping,
+  Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me!
+        And say thou wouldst rather
+        They 'd watch o'er thy father;
+  For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!"
+
+        The dawn of the morning
+        Saw Dermot returning,
+  And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see;
+        And closely caressing
+        Her child, with a blessing,
+  Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering with thee!"
+
+    [Footnote C: A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland
+    that when a child smiles in its sleep it is "talking with angels."]
+
+
+  _WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE?_
+
+  I.
+
+  "What will you do, love, when I am going
+  With white sail flowing,
+          The seas beyond--
+  What will you do, love, when waves divide us,
+  And friends may chide us
+          For being fond?"
+  "Tho' waves divide us--and friends be chiding,
+  In faith abiding,
+          I 'll still be true!
+  And I 'll pray for thee on the stormy ocean,
+  In deep devotion--
+          That 's what I 'll do!"
+
+  II.
+
+  "What would you do, love, if distant tidings
+  Thy fond confidings
+          Should undermine?--
+  And I abiding 'neath sultry skies,
+  Should think other eyes
+          Were as bright as thine?"
+  "Oh, name it not:--tho' guilt and shame
+  Were on thy name
+          I 'd still be true:
+  But that heart of thine--should another share it--
+  I could not bear it!
+          What would I do?"
+
+  III.
+
+  "What would you do, love, when home returning
+  With hopes high burning,
+          With wealth for you,
+  If my bark, which bounded o'er foreign foam,
+  Should be lost near home--
+          Ah! what would you do?"--
+  "So thou wert spared--I 'd bless the morrow,
+  In want and sorrow,
+          That left me you;
+  And I 'd welcome thee from the wasting billow,
+  This heart thy pillow--
+          That 's what I 'd do!"
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES MACKAY.
+
+  1814-1889.
+
+
+  _I LOVE MY LOVE._
+
+  I.
+
+  What is the meaning of the song
+    That rings so clear and loud,
+  Thou nightingale amid the copse--
+    Thou lark above the cloud?
+  What says the song, thou joyous thrush,
+    Up in the walnut-tree?
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+  II.
+
+  What is the meaning of thy thought,
+    O maiden fair and young?
+  There is such pleasure in thine eyes,
+    Such music on thy tongue;
+  There is such glory on thy face--
+    What can the meaning be?
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+  III.
+
+  O happy words! at Beauty's feet
+    We sing them ere our prime;
+  And when the early summers pass,
+    And Care comes on with Time,
+  Still be it ours, in Care's despite,
+    To join the chorus free--
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+
+  _O YE TEARS!_
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,
+  Ye are welcome to my heart,--thawing, thawing, like the snow;
+  I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snow-drop spring,
+  And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run;
+  Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun.
+  The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,
+  And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek,
+  I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.
+  Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,
+  And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain:
+  The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again;
+  Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning sand,
+  It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.
+
+  There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my heart,
+  And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart.
+  Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago--
+  O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  FRANCIS MAHONEY.
+
+  1805-1866.
+
+
+  _THE BELLS OF SHANDON._
+
+      Sabbata pango;
+      Funera plango;
+      Solemnia clango.
+
+        --_Inscription on an old bell._
+
+  With deep affection
+  And recollection
+  I often think of
+    Those Shandon bells,
+  Whose sounds so wild would,
+  In the days of childhood,
+  Fling round my cradle
+    Their magic spells.
+
+  On this I ponder
+  Where'er I wander,
+  And thus grow fonder,
+    Sweet Cork, of thee,--
+  With thy bells of Shandon,
+  That sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  I 've heard bells chiming
+  Full many a clime in,
+  Tolling sublime in
+    Cathedral shrine,
+  While at a glibe rate
+  Brass tongues would vibrate;
+  But all their music
+    Spoke naught like thine.
+
+  For memory, dwelling
+  On each proud swelling
+  Of thy belfry, knelling
+    Its bold notes free,
+  Made the bells of Shandon
+  Sound far more grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  I 've heard bells tolling
+  Old Adrian's Mole in,
+  Their thunder rolling
+    From the Vatican,--
+  And cymbals glorious
+  Swinging uproarious
+  In the gorgeous turrets
+    Of Notre Dame;
+
+  But thy sounds were sweeter
+  Than the dome of Peter
+  Flings o'er the Tiber,
+    Pealing solemnly.
+  Oh! the bells of Shandon
+  Sound far more grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  There 's a bell in Moscow;
+  While on tower and kiosk O
+  In St. Sophia
+    The Turkman gets,
+  And loud in air
+  Calls men to prayer,
+  From the tapering summit
+    Of tall minarets.
+
+  Such empty phantom
+  I freely grant them;
+  But there 's an anthem
+    More dear to me,--
+  'T is the bells of Shandon,
+  That sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GERALD MASSEY.
+
+  1828.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  All glorious as the Rainbow's birth,
+    She came in Spring-tide's golden hours;
+  When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,
+    And May was crowned with buds and flowers!
+  The mounting devil at my heart
+    Clomb faintlier as my life did win
+  The charmèd heaven, she wrought apart,
+    To wake its slumbering Angel in!
+  With radiant mien she trod serene,
+    And passed me smiling by!
+  O! who that looked could chance but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  The dewy eyelids of the Dawn
+    Ne'er oped such heaven as hers can show:
+  It seemed her dear eyes might have shone
+    As jewels in some starry brow.
+  Her face flashed glory like a shrine,
+    Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;
+  Where came and went love-thoughts divine,
+    As low winds walk the leaves in light:
+  She wore her beauty with the grace
+    Of Summer's star-clad sky;
+  O! who that looked could help but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit
+    Of love were ripening to be pressed:
+  Her voice, that shook my heart's red root,
+    Yet might not break a babe's soft rest!
+  More liquid than the running brooks,
+    More vernal than the voice of Spring,
+  When Nightingales are in their nooks,
+    And all the leafy thickets ring.
+  The love she coyly hid at heart
+    Was shyly conscious in her eye;
+  O! who that looked could help but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY.
+
+  1844-1881.
+
+
+  _A LOVE SYMPHONY._
+
+  Along the garden ways just now
+    I heard the flowers speak;
+  The white rose told me of your brow,
+    The red rose of your cheek;
+  The lily of your bended head,
+    The bindweed of your hair:
+  Each looked its loveliest and said
+    You were more fair.
+
+  I went into the wood anon,
+    And heard the wild birds sing,
+  How sweet you were; they warbled on,
+    Piped, trilled the self-same thing.
+  Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause,
+    The burden did repeat,
+  And still began again because
+    You were more sweet.
+
+  And then I went down to the sea,
+    And heard it murmuring too,
+  Part of an ancient mystery,
+    All made of me and you.
+  How many a thousand years ago
+    I loved, and you were sweet--
+  Longer I could not stay, and so
+    I fled back to your feet.
+
+
+  _I MADE ANOTHER GARDEN._
+
+  I made another garden, yea,
+    For my new love;
+  I left the dead rose where it lay,
+    And set the new above.
+  Why did the summer not begin?
+    Why did my heart not haste?
+  My old love came and walked therein,
+    And laid the garden waste.
+
+  She entered with her weary smile,
+    Just as of old;
+  She looked around a little while,
+    And shivered at the cold.
+  Her passing touch was death to all,
+    Her passing look a blight;
+  She made the white rose-petals fall,
+    And turned the red rose white.
+
+  Her pale robe, clinging to the grass,
+    Seemed like a snake
+  That bit the grass and ground, alas!
+    And a sad trail did make.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  She went up slowly to the gate;
+    And there, just as of yore,
+  She turned back at the last to wait,
+    And say farewell once more.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.
+
+  1825-1864.
+
+
+  _THE LOST CHORD._
+
+  Seated one day at the Organ,
+    I was weary and ill at ease,
+  And my fingers wandered idly
+    Over the noisy keys.
+
+  I do not know what I was playing,
+    Or what I was dreaming then;
+  But I struck one chord of music,
+    Like the sound of a great Amen.
+
+  It flooded the crimson twilight
+    Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
+  And it lay on my fevered spirit
+    With a touch of infinite calm.
+
+  It quieted pain and sorrow,
+    Like love overcoming strife;
+  It seemed the harmonious echo
+    From our discordant Life.
+
+  It linked all perplexèd meanings
+    Into one perfect peace,
+  And trembled away into silence
+    As if it were loth to cease.
+
+  I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
+    That one lost chord divine,
+  Which came from the soul of the Organ,
+    And entered into mine.
+
+  It may be that Death's bright angel
+    Will speak in that chord again,--
+  It may be that only in Heaven
+    I shall hear that grand Amen.
+
+
+  _SENT TO HEAVEN._
+
+  I had a Message to send her,
+    To her whom my soul loved best;
+  But I had my task to finish,
+    And she was gone home to rest.
+
+  To rest in the far bright heaven;
+    Oh, so far away from here,
+  It was vain to speak to my darling,
+    For I knew she could not hear!
+
+  I had a message to send her,
+    So tender, and true, and sweet,
+  I longed for an Angel to bear it,
+    And lay it down at her feet.
+
+  I placed it, one summer evening,
+    On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast;
+  But it faded in golden splendour,
+    And died in the crimson west.
+
+  I gave it the Lark next morning,
+    And I watched it soar and soar;
+  But its pinions grew faint and weary,
+    And it fluttered to earth once more.
+
+  To the heart of a Rose I told it;
+    And the perfume, sweet and rare,
+  Growing faint on the blue bright ether,
+    Was lost in the balmy air.
+
+  I laid it upon a Censer,
+    And I saw the incense rise;
+  But its clouds of rolling silver
+    Could not reach the far blue skies.
+
+  I cried, in my passionate longing:--
+    "Has the earth no Angel-friend
+  Who will carry my love the message
+    That my heart desires to send?"
+
+  Then I heard a strain of music,
+    So mighty, so pure, so clear,
+  That my very sorrow was silent,
+    And my heart stood still to hear.
+
+  And I felt, in my soul's deep yearning,
+    At last the sure answer stir:--
+  "The music will go up to Heaven,
+    And carry my thought to her."
+
+  It rose in harmonious rushing
+    Of mingled voices and strings,
+  And I tenderly laid my message
+    On the Music's outspread wings.
+
+  I heard it float farther and farther,
+    In sound more perfect than speech;
+  Farther than sight can follow,
+    Farther than soul can reach.
+
+  And I know that at last my message
+    Has passed through the golden gate:
+  So my heart is no longer restless,
+    And I am content to wait.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  B. W. PROCTER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+
+  1787-1874.
+
+
+  _THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  How many Summers, love,
+    Have I been thine?
+  How many days, thou dove,
+    Hast thou been mine?
+  Time, like the wingèd wind
+    When 't bends the flowers,
+  Hath left no mark behind,
+    To count the hours!
+
+  Some weight of thought, though loth,
+    On thee he leaves;
+  Some lines of care round both
+    Perhaps he weaves;
+  Some fears,--a soft regret
+    For joys scarce known;
+  Sweet looks we half forget;--
+    All else is flown!
+
+  Ah! with what thankless heart
+    I mourn and sing!
+  Look, where our children start,
+    Like sudden Spring!
+  With tongues all sweet and low,
+    Like a pleasant rhyme,
+  They tell how much I owe
+    To thee and Time!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A PETITION TO TIME._
+
+  1831.
+
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+    Let us glide adown thy stream
+  Gently,--as we sometimes glide
+    Through a quiet dream!
+  Humble voyagers are We,
+  Husband, wife, and children three--
+  (One is lost,--an angel, fled
+  To the azure overhead!)
+
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+    We 've not proud nor soaring wings:
+  _Our_ ambition, _our_ content
+    Lies in simple things.
+  Humble voyagers are We,
+  O'er Life's dim unsounded sea,
+  Seeking only some calm clime:--
+  Touch us _gently_, gentle Time!
+
+
+  _A BACCHANALIAN SONG._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY MR. H. PHILLIPS.
+
+  Sing!--Who sings
+  To her who weareth a hundred rings?
+    Ah, who is this lady fine?
+    The VINE, boys, the VINE!
+    The mother of mighty Wine.
+      A roamer is she
+      O'er wall and tree,
+  And sometimes very good company.
+
+  Drink!--Who drinks
+  To her who blusheth and never thinks?
+    Ah, who is this maid of thine?
+    The GRAPE, boys, the GRAPE!
+    O, never let her escape
+    Until she be turned to Wine!
+      For better is she
+      Than vine can be,
+  And very, very good company!
+
+  Dream!--Who dreams
+  Of the God that governs a thousand streams?
+    Ah, who is this Spirit fine?
+    'T is WINE, boys, 't is WINE!
+    God Bacchus, a friend of mine.
+      O better is he
+      Than grape or tree,
+  And the best of all good company.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SHE WAS NOT FAIR NOR FULL OF GRACE._
+
+  She was not fair, nor full of grace,
+    Nor crowned with thought or aught beside;
+  No wealth had she, of mind or face,
+    To win our love, or raise our pride:
+  No lover's thought her cheek did touch;
+    No poet's dream was 'round her thrown;
+  And yet we miss her--ah, too much,
+    Now--she hath flown!
+
+  We miss her when the morning calls,
+    As one that mingled in our mirth;
+  We miss her when the evening falls,--
+    A trifle wanted on the earth!
+  Some fancy small or subtle thought
+    Is checked ere to its blossom grown;
+  Some chain is broken that we wrought,
+    Now--she hath flown!
+
+  No solid good, nor hope defined,
+    Is marred now she hath sunk in night;
+  And yet the strong immortal Mind
+    Is stopped in its triumphant flight!
+  Stern friend, what power is in a tear,
+    What strength in one poor thought alone,
+  When all we know is--"She was here,"
+    And--"She hath flown!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SEA-KING._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King,
+    And the fame that now hangs o'er him,
+  Who once did sweep o'er the vanquish'd deep,
+    And drove the world before him!
+  His deck was a throne, on the ocean lone,
+    And the sea was his park of pleasure,
+  Where he scattered in fear the human deer,
+    And rested,--when he had leisure!
+            Come,--shout and sing
+              Of the great Sea-King,
+            And ride in the track he rode in!
+              He sits at the head
+              Of the mighty dead,
+            On the red right hand of Odin!
+
+  He sprang, from birth, like a God on earth,
+    And soared on his victor pinions,
+  And he traversed the sea, as the eagles flee,
+    When they gaze on their blue dominions.
+  His whole earth life was a conquering strife,
+    And he lived till his beard grew hoary,
+  And he died at last, by his blood-red mast,
+    And now--he is lost in glory!
+                    So,--shout and sing, &c.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A SERENADE._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  Awake!--The starry midnight Hour
+    Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight:
+  In its own sweetness sleeps the flower;
+    And the doves lie hushed in deep delight!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Soft dews will soon arise
+    From daisied mead, and thorny brake;
+  Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes,
+    And like the tender morning break!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Dawn forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Within the musk-rose bower
+    I watch, pale flower of love, for thee;
+  Ah, come, and shew the starry Hour
+    What wealth of love thou hid'st from me!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Shew all thy love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Ne'er heed, though listening Night
+    Steal music from thy silver voice:
+  Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright,
+    And bid the world and me rejoice!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        She comes,--at last, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _KING DEATH._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  King Death was a rare old fellow!
+    He sate where no sun could shine;
+  And he lifted his hand so yellow,
+    And poured out his coal-black wine.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  There came to him many a Maiden,
+    Whose eyes had forgot to shine;
+  And Widows, with grief o'erladen,
+    For a draught of his sleepy wine.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  The Scholar left all his learning;
+    The Poet his fancied woes;
+  And the Beauty her bloom returning,
+    As the beads of the black wine rose.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  All came to the royal old fellow,
+    Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine,
+  As he gave them his hand so yellow,
+    And pledged them in Death's black wine.
+              Hurrah!--Hurrah!
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL._
+
+  Sit down, sad soul, and count
+    The moments flying:
+  Come,--tell the sweet amount
+    That 's lost by sighing!
+  How many smiles?--a score?
+  Then laugh, and count no more;
+        For day is dying!
+
+  Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
+    And no more measure
+  The flight of Time, nor weep
+    The loss of leisure;
+  But here, by this lone stream,
+  Lie down with us, and dream
+        Of starry treasure!
+
+  We dream: do thou the same:
+    We love--for ever:
+  We laugh; yet few we shame,
+   The gentle, never.
+  Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
+  _Then_--hope and happy skies
+        Are thine for ever!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A DRINKING SONG._
+
+  Drink, and fill the night with mirth!
+    Let us have a mighty measure,
+  Till we quite forget the earth,
+    And soar into the world of pleasure.
+  Drink, and let a health go round,
+    ('T is the drinker's noble duty,)
+  To the eyes that shine and wound,
+    To the mouths that bud in beauty!
+
+  Here 's to Helen! Why, ah! why
+    Doth she fly from my pursuing?
+  Here 's to Marian, cold and shy!
+    May she warm before thy wooing!
+  Here 's to Janet! I 've been e'er,
+    Boy and man, her staunch defender,
+  Always sworn that she was fair,
+    Always _known_ that she was tender!
+
+  Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high!
+    Let them with the champagne tremble,
+  Like the loose wrack in the sky,
+    When the four wild winds assemble!
+  Here 's to all the love on earth,
+    (Love, the young man's, wise man's treasure!)
+  Drink, and fill your throats with mirth!
+    Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _PEACE! WHAT DO TEARS AVAIL?_
+
+  Peace! what can tears avail?
+  She lies all dumb and pale,
+    And from her eye,
+  The spirit of lovely life is fading,
+    And she must die!
+  Why looks the lover wroth? the friend upbraiding?
+    Reply, reply!
+
+  Hath she not dwelt too long
+  'Midst pain, and grief, and wrong?
+    Then, why not die?
+  Why suffer again her doom of sorrow,
+    And hopeless lie?
+  Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow?
+    Reply, reply!
+
+  Death! Take her to thine arms,
+  In all her stainless charms,
+    And with her fly
+  To heavenly haunts, where, clad in brightness,
+    The Angels lie!
+  Wilt bear her there, O Death! in all her whiteness?
+    Reply,--reply!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SEA._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+  Without a mark, without a bound,
+  It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+  It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
+  Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+  I 'm on the Sea! I 'm on the Sea!
+  I am where I would ever be;
+  With the blue above, and the blue below,
+  And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+  If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+  What matter? _I_ shall ride and sleep.
+
+  I love (oh! _how_ I love) to ride
+  On the fierce foaming bursting tide,
+  When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+  Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+  And tells how goeth the world below,
+  And why the south-west blasts do blow.
+
+  I never was on the dull tame shore,
+  But I loved the great Sea more and more,
+  And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+  Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+  And a mother she _was_, and _is_ to me;
+  For I was born on the open Sea!
+
+  The waves were white, and red the morn,
+  In the noisy hour when I was born;
+  And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
+  And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+  And never was heard such an outcry wild
+  As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!
+
+  I 've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+  Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+  With wealth to spend and a power to range,
+  But never have sought, nor sighed for change;
+  And Death, whenever he come to me,
+  Shall come on the wild unbounded Sea!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.
+
+  1830-1895.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  When I am dead, my dearest,
+    Sing no sad songs for me;
+  Plant thou no roses at my head,
+    Nor shady cypress-tree:
+  Be the green grass above me
+    With showers and dewdrops wet;
+  And if thou wilt, remember,
+    And if thou wilt, forget.
+
+  I shall not see the shadows,
+    I shall not feel the rain;
+  I shall not hear the nightingale
+    Sing on, as if in pain:
+  And dreaming through the twilight
+    That doth not rise nor set,
+  Haply I may remember,
+    And haply may forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O roses for the flush of youth,
+    And laurel for the perfect prime;
+  But pluck an ivy branch for me
+    Grown old before my time.
+
+  O violets for the grave of youth,
+    And bay for those dead in their prime;
+  Give me the withered leaves I chose
+    Before in the old time.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
+    Two lilies on a single stem,
+  Two butterflies upon one flower:--
+    O happy they who look on them.
+
+  Who look upon them hand in hand
+    Flushed in the rosy summer light;
+  Who look upon them hand in hand
+    And never give a thought to night.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THREE SEASONS._
+
+    "A cup for hope!" she said,
+  In springtime ere the bloom was old:
+  The crimson wine was poor and cold
+    By her mouth's richer red.
+
+    "A cup for love!" how low,
+  How soft the words; and all the while
+  Her blush was rippling with a smile
+    Like summer after snow.
+
+    "A cup for memory!"
+  Cold cup that one must drain alone:
+  While autumn winds are up and moan
+    Across the barren sea.
+
+    Hope, memory, love:
+  Hope for fair morn, and love for day,
+  And memory for the evening gray
+    And solitary dove.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
+
+  1828-1882.
+
+
+  _A LITTLE WHILE._
+
+  A little while a little love
+    The hour yet bears for thee and me
+    Who have not drawn the veil to see
+  If still our heaven be lit above.
+  Thou merely, at the day's last sigh,
+    Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone;
+  And I have heard the night-wind cry
+      And deemed its speech mine own.
+
+  A little while a little love
+    The scattering autumn hoards for us
+    Whose bower is not yet ruinous
+  Nor quite unleaved our songless grove.
+  Only across the shaken boughs
+    We hear the flood-tides seek the sea,
+  And deep in both our hearts they rouse
+      One wail for thee and me.
+
+  A little while a little love
+    May yet be ours who have not said
+    The word it makes our eyes afraid
+  To know that each is thinking of.
+  Not yet the end: be our lips dumb
+    In smiles a little season yet:
+  I 'll tell thee, when the end is come,
+      How we may best forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SUDDEN LIGHT._
+
+      I have been here before,
+        But when or how I cannot tell:
+      I know the grass beyond the door,
+        The sweet keen smell,
+  The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
+
+      You have been mine before,--
+        How long ago I may not know:
+      But just when at that swallow's soar
+        Your neck turned so,
+  Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.
+
+      Has this been thus before?
+        And shall not thus time's eddying flight
+      Still with our lives our loves restore
+        In death's despite,
+  And day and night yield one delight once more?
+
+
+  _THREE SHADOWS._
+
+  I looked and saw your eyes
+    In the shadow of your hair,
+  As a traveller sees the stream
+    In the shadow of the wood;
+  And I said, "My faint heart sighs,
+    Ah me! to linger there,
+  To drink deep and to dream
+    In that sweet solitude."
+
+  I looked and saw your heart
+    In the shadow of your eyes,
+  As a seeker sees the gold
+    In the shadow of the stream;
+  And I said, "Ah, me! what art
+    Should win the immortal prize,
+  Whose want must make life cold
+    And Heaven a hollow dream?"
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  I looked and saw your love
+    In the shadow of your heart,
+  As a diver sees the pearl
+    In the shadow of the sea;
+  And I murmured, not above
+    My breath, but all apart,--
+  "Ah! you can love, true girl,
+    And is your love for me?"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.
+
+  1812-1890.
+
+
+  _PARTING AND MEETING AGAIN._
+
+  Last time I parted from my Dear
+  The linnet sang from the briar-bush,
+          The throstle from the dell;
+  The stream too carolled full and clear,
+  It was the spring-time of the year,
+  And both the linnet and the thrush
+          I love them well
+  Since last I parted from my Dear.
+
+  But when he came again to me
+  The barley rustled high and low,
+          Linnet and thrush were still;
+  Yellowed the apple on the tree,
+  'T was autumn merry as it could be,
+  What time the white ships come and go
+          Under the hill;
+  They brought him back again to me,
+  Brought him safely o'er the sea.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  JOSEPH SKIPSEY.
+
+  1832
+
+
+  _A MERRY BEE._
+
+  A golden bee a-cometh
+    O'er the mere, glassy mere,
+  And a merry tale he hummeth
+          In my ear.
+
+  How he seized and kist a blossom,
+    From its tree, thorny tree,
+  Plucked and placed in Annie's bosom,
+          Hums the bee!
+
+
+  _THE SONGSTRESS._
+
+  Back flies my soul to other years,
+    When thou that charming lay repeatest,
+  When smiles were only chased by tears,
+    Yet sweeter far than smiles the sweetest.
+
+  Thy music ends, and where are they?
+    Those golden times by memory cherished?
+  O, Syren, sing no more that lay,
+    Or sing till I like them have perished!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE VIOLET AND THE ROSE._
+
+  The Violet invited my kiss,--
+    I kissed it and called it my bride;
+  "Was ever one slighted like this?"
+    Sighed the Rose as it stood by my side.
+
+  My heart ever open to grief,
+    To comfort the fair one I turned;
+  "Of fickle ones thou art the chief!"
+    Frowned the Violet, and pouted and mourned.
+
+  Then, to end all disputes, I entwined
+    The love-stricken blossoms in one;
+  But that instant their beauty declined,
+    And I wept for the deed I had done!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  J. ASHBY STERRY.
+
+
+  _REGRETS._
+
+  I.
+
+  O for the look of those pure grey eyes--
+    Seeming to plead and speak--
+  The parted lips and the deep-drawn sighs,
+    The blush on the kissen cheek!
+
+  II.
+
+  O for the tangle of soft brown hair,
+    Lazily blown by the breeze;
+  The fleeting hours unshadowed by care,
+    Shaded by tremulous trees!
+
+  III.
+
+  O for the dream of those sunny days,
+    With their bright unbroken spell,
+  And the thrilling sweet untutored praise--
+    From the lips once loved so well!
+
+  IV.
+
+  O for the feeling of days agone,
+    The simple faith and the truth,
+  The spring of time and life's rosy dawn--
+    O for the love and the youth!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _DAISY'S DIMPLES._
+
+  I.
+
+  Little dimples so sweet and soft,
+    Love the cheek of my love:
+  The mark of Cupid's dainty hand,
+    Before he wore a glove.
+
+  II.
+
+  Laughing dimples of tender love
+    Smile on my darling's cheek;
+  Sweet hallowed spots where kisses lurk,
+    And play at hide and seek.
+
+  III.
+
+  Fain would I hide my kisses there
+    At morning's rosy light,
+  To come and seek them back again
+    In silver hush of night.
+
+
+  _A LOVER'S LULLABY._
+
+  I.
+
+  Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love,
+    See how they glitter and shine!
+  Quick fly such moments divine, love,
+    Link your lithe fingers in mine!
+
+  II.
+
+  Lay your soft cheek against mine, love,
+    Pillow your head on my breast;
+  While your brown locks I entwine, love,
+    Pout your red lips when they 're prest!
+
+  III.
+
+  Mirror your fate, then, in mine, love;
+    Sorrow and sighing resign:
+  Life is too short to repine, love,
+    Link your fair future in mine!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.
+
+  1837.
+
+
+  _A MATCH._
+
+  If love were what the rose is,
+    And I were like the leaf,
+  Our lives would grow together
+  In sad or singing weather,
+  Blown fields or flowerful closes,
+    Green pleasure or grey grief;
+  If love were what the rose is,
+    And I were like the leaf.
+
+  If I were what the words are,
+    And love were like the tune,
+  With double sound or single
+  Delight our lips would mingle,
+  With kisses glad as birds are
+    That get sweet rain at noon;
+  If I were what the words are,
+    And love were like the tune.
+
+  If you were life, my darling,
+    And I your love were death,
+  We 'd shine and snow together
+  Ere March made sweet the weather
+  With daffodil and starling
+    And hours of fruitful breath;
+  If you were life, my darling,
+    And I your love were death.
+
+  If you were thrall to sorrow,
+    And I were page to joy,
+  We 'd play for lives and seasons
+  With loving looks and treasons
+  And tears of night and morrow
+    And laughs of maid and boy;
+  If you were thrall to sorrow,
+    And I were page to joy.
+
+  If you were April's lady,
+    And I were lord in May,
+  We 'd throw with leaves for hours
+  And draw for days with flowers,
+  Till day like night were shady
+    And night were bright like day;
+  If you were April's lady,
+    And I were lord in May.
+
+  If you were queen of pleasure,
+    And I were king of pain,
+  We 'd hunt down love together,
+  Pluck out his flying-feather,
+    And teach his feet a measure,
+  And find his mouth a rein;
+    If you were queen of pleasure,
+  And I were king of pain.
+
+
+  _RONDEL._
+
+  Kissing her hair I sat against her feet,
+  Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet;
+  Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes,
+  Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies;
+  With her own tresses bound and found her fair,
+          Kissing her hair.
+
+  Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,
+  Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;
+  What pain could get between my face and hers?
+  What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?
+  Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,
+          Kissing her hair?
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "FELISE."
+
+  O lips that mine have grown into
+    Like April's kissing May,
+  O fervent eyelids letting through
+  Those eyes the greenest of things blue,
+    The bluest of things gray,
+
+  If you were I and I were you,
+    How could I love you, say?
+  How could the roseleaf love the rue,
+  The day love nightfall and her dew,
+    Though night may love the day?
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+  1809-1892.
+
+
+  _THE BUGLE SONG._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+      The splendour falls on castle walls
+        And snowy summits old in story:
+      The long light shakes across the lakes,
+        And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+  Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+  Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+        And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+      O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+        The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+  Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+  Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+        They faint on hill or field or river:
+      Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
+        And grow for ever and for ever.
+  Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+  And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _BREAK, BREAK, BREAK._
+
+  Break, break, break,
+    On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+  And I would that my tongue could utter
+    The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+  O well for the fisherman's boy,
+    That he shouts with his sister at play!
+  O well for the sailor lad,
+    That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+  And the stately ships go on
+    To their haven under the hill;
+  But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+    And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+  Break, break, break,
+    At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+  But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+    Will never come back to me.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _TEARS, IDLE TEARS._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+    Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
+  Tears from the depth of some divine despair
+  Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
+  In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
+  And thinking of the days that are no more.
+
+    Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
+  That brings our friends up from the underworld,
+  Sad as the last which reddens over one
+  That sinks with all we love below the verge;
+  So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
+
+    Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
+  The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
+  To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
+  The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
+  So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
+
+    Dear as remembered kisses after death,
+  And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
+  On lips that are for others; deep as love,
+  Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
+  O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SWEET AND LOW._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+    Wind of the western sea,
+  Low, low, breathe and blow,
+    Wind of the western sea!
+  Over the rolling waters go,
+  Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+    Blow him again to me;
+  While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
+
+  Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+    Father will come to thee soon;
+  Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+    Father will come to thee soon;
+  Father will come to his babe in the nest,
+  Silver sails all out of the west
+    Under the silver moon:
+  Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
+
+
+  _TURN, FORTUNE, TURN THY WHEEL._
+
+  FROM "THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT."
+
+    Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;
+  Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
+  Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
+
+    Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
+  With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
+  Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
+
+    Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
+  Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
+  For man is man and master of his fate.
+
+    Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
+  Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
+  Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
+
+
+  _VIVIEN'S SONG._
+
+  FROM "MERLIN AND VIVIEN."
+
+    In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
+  Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers:
+  Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.
+
+    It is the little rift within the lute,
+  That by and by will make the music mute,
+  And ever widening slowly silence all.
+
+    The little rift within the lover's lute
+  Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
+  That rotting inward slowly moulders all.
+
+    It is not worth the keeping: let it go:
+  But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
+  And trust me not at all or all in all.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
+
+  1811-1863.
+
+
+  _AT THE CHURCH GATE._
+
+  FROM "PENDENNIS."
+
+  Although I enter not,
+  Yet round about the spot
+    Ofttimes I hover:
+  And near the sacred gate,
+  With longing eyes I wait,
+    Expectant of her.
+
+  The Minster bell tolls out
+  Above the city's rout,
+    And noise and humming:
+  They 've hushed the Minster bell:
+  The organ 'gins to swell:
+    She 's coming, she 's coming!
+
+  My lady comes at last,
+  Timid, and stepping fast,
+    And hastening hither,
+  With modest eyes downcast:
+  She comes--she 's here--she 's past--
+    May heaven go with her!
+
+  Kneel, undisturbed, fair saint!
+  Pour out your praise or plaint
+    Meekly and duly;
+  I will not enter there,
+  To sully your pure prayer
+    With thoughts unruly.
+
+  But suffer me to pace
+  Round the forbidden place,
+    Lingering a minute;
+  Like outcast spirits who wait
+  And see through heaven's gate
+    Angels within it.
+
+
+  _THE MAHOGANY TREE._
+
+  Christmas is here;
+  Winds whistle shrill,
+  Icy and chill,
+  Little care we:
+  Little we fear
+  Weather without
+  Sheltered about
+  The Mahogany Tree.
+
+  Once on the boughs
+  Birds of rare plume
+  Sang, in its bloom;
+  Night-birds are we:
+  Here we carouse,
+  Singing like them,
+  Perched round the stem
+  Of the jolly old tree.
+
+  Here let us sport,
+  Boys, as we sit;
+  Laughter and wit
+  Flashing so free.
+  Life is but short--
+  When we are gone,
+  Let them sing on,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Evenings we knew,
+  Happy as this;
+  Faces we miss,
+  Pleasant to see.
+  Kind hearts and true,
+  Gentle and just,
+  Peace to your dust!
+  We sing round the tree.
+
+  Care, like a dun,
+  Lurks at the gate:
+  Let the dog wait;
+  Happy we 'll be!
+  Drink, every one;
+  Pile up the coals,
+  Fill the red bowls,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Drain we the cup.--
+  Friend, art afraid?
+  Spirits are laid
+  In the Red Sea.
+  Mantle it up;
+  Empty it yet;
+  Let us forget,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Sorrows, begone!
+  Life and its ills,
+  Duns and their bills,
+  Bid we to flee.
+  Come with the dawn,
+  Blue-devil sprite,
+  Leave us to-night,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY.
+
+  1828-1876.
+
+
+  _DAYRISE AND SUNSET._
+
+  When Spring casts all her swallows forth
+    Into the blue and lambent air,
+  When lilacs toss their purple plumes
+    And every cherry-tree grows fair,--
+  Through fields with morning tints a-glow
+  I take my rod and singing go.
+
+  Where lilies float on broad green leaves
+    Below the ripples of the mill,
+  When the white moth is hovering
+    In the dim sky so hushed and still,
+  I watch beneath the pollard ash
+  The greedy trout leap up and splash.
+
+  Or down where golden water flowers
+    Are wading in the shallow tide,
+  While still the dusk is tinged with rose
+    Like a brown cheek o'erflushed with pride--
+  I throw the crafty fly and wait;
+  Watching the big trout eye the bait.
+
+  It is the lover's twilight-time,
+    And there 's a magic in the hour,
+  But I forget the sweets of love
+    And all love's tyranny and power,
+  And with my feather-hidden steel
+  Sigh but to fill my woven creel.
+
+  Then upward darkling through the copse
+    I push my eager homeward way,
+  Through glades of drowsy violets
+    That never see the golden day.
+  Yes! while the night comes soft and slow
+  I take my rod and singing go.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _THE THREE TROOPERS._
+
+  DURING THE PROTECTORATE.
+
+  Into the Devil tavern
+    Three booted troopers strode,
+  From spur to feather spotted and splashed
+    With the mud of a winter road.
+  In each of their cups they dropped a crust,
+    And stared at the guests with a frown;
+  Then drew their swords, and roared for a toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  A blue smoke rose from their pistol locks,
+    Their sword blades were still wet;
+  There were long red smears on their jerkins of buff,
+    As the table they overset.
+  Then into their cups they stirred the crusts,
+    And cursed old London town;
+  They waved their swords, and drank with a stamp,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  The 'prentice dropped his can of beer,
+    The host turned pale as a clout;
+  The ruby nose of the toping squires
+    Grew white at the wild men's shout.
+  Then into their cups they flung their crusts,
+    And shewed their teeth with a frown;
+  They flashed their swords as they gave the toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  The gambler dropped his dog's-ear'd cards,
+    The waiting-women screamed,
+  As the light of the fire, like stains of blood,
+    On the wild men's sabres gleamed.
+  Then into their cups they splashed their crusts,
+    And cursed the fool of a town,
+  And leapt on the table, and roared a toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  Till on a sudden fire-bells rang,
+    And the troopers sprang to horse;
+  The eldest muttered between his teeth,
+    Hot curses--deep and coarse.
+  In their stirrup cups they flung the crusts,
+    And cried as they spurred through the town,
+  With their keen swords drawn and their pistols cocked,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  Away they dashed through Temple Bar,
+    Their red cloaks flowing free,
+  Their scabbards clashed, each back-piece shone--
+    None liked to touch the three.
+  The silver cups that held the crusts
+    They flung to the startled town,
+  Shouting again, with a blaze of swords,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE CUCKOO._
+
+  When a warm and scented steam
+    Rises from the flowering earth;
+  When the green leaves are all still,
+    And the song birds cease their mirth;
+  In the silence before rain
+  Comes the cuckoo back again.
+
+  When the Spring is all but gone--
+    Tearful April, laughing May--
+  When a hush comes on the woods,
+    And the sunbeams cease to play;
+  In the silence before rain
+  Comes the cuckoo back again.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies:
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act IV. Scene I_.
+    [_should be "Scene i"_]
+  I watched the long, long, shade,  [_all commas as printed_]
+  _THE LONG WHITE SEAM._  [_final . missing or invisible_]
+  [Locker-Lampson] _THE CUCKOO._  [_printed , for ._]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Victorian Songs
+       Lyrics of the Affections and Nature
+
+Author: Various
+
+Commentator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Editor: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Illustrator: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2008 [EBook #26715]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SONGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This
+file includes images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class = "mynote">
+<p><a name = "start" id = "start">This text</a> uses UTF-8 (unicode)
+file encoding. If the apostrophes and quotation marks in this paragraph
+appear as garbage, you may have an incompatible browser or unavailable
+fonts. First, make sure that your browser’s “character set� or “file
+encoding� is set to Unicode (UTF-8). You may also need to change the
+default font.</p>
+
+<p>All Plates except the Frontispiece were originally printed on
+right-hand pages. Some have been shifted slightly to fall between poems.
+The List of Illustrations shows their original location (facing page).
+Spacing of contractions such as <b>I&nbsp;’ve</b> follows the original.</p>
+
+<p class = "center">
+<a href = "#contents">Contents</a><br>
+<a href = "#first_lines">Index of First Lines</a><br>
+<a href = "#illus">List of Illustrations</a><br>
+<a href = "#intro">Introduction</a><br>
+<a href = "#page1">Victorian Songs</a></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class = "page">
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/cover.jpg" width = "406" height = "604"
+alt = "Victorian Songs" title = "Victorian Songs"></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class = "page">
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/halftitle1.png" width = "262" height = "39"
+alt = "Victorian Songs" title = "Victorian Songs"></p>
+
+<p class = "rightside sans">
+“‘Let some one sing to vs, lightlier move<br>
+The minvtes fledged with mvsic’.�</p>
+
+<p class = "right sans">TENNYSON</p>
+
+<p class = "right">
+<img src = "images/tinyrose.png" width = "17" height = "17"
+alt = "tiny rose"> &nbsp; &nbsp;</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class = "prelim">
+<!-- until maintext -->
+
+<!-- png 003 -->
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "frontis" id = "frontis"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_frontis.jpg" width = "365" height = "531"
+alt = "Frontispiece: Sweet and Low, Sweet and Low"
+title = "Frontispiece: Sweet and Low, Sweet and Low">
+</p>
+
+
+<div class = "page">
+<!-- intro 03 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<a name = "titlepage" id = "titlepage"> </a>
+<img src = "images/titlepage.jpg" width = "356" height = "671"
+alt = "(text link below)"></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "center">
+<a class = "red" href = "#titletext">&mdash; Title Page Text &mdash;</a></p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "page">
+
+<!-- intro 04 -->
+
+<p class = "center">
+<i>Copyright, 1895.</i><br>
+<span class = "smallcaps">By Edmund H. Garrett.</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "center">
+<b>University Press:</b><br>
+<span class = "smallcaps">
+John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.</span></p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "page">
+<p class = "mynote">
+Some editions of the book have a two-page Editor’s Note before the
+Contents, acknowledging the “publishers and authors who have given
+permission for the use of many of the songs included in this volume�.
+It has been omitted from this e-text.</p>
+</div>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">vii</span>
+<a name = "page_vii" id = "page_vii"> </a>
+<!-- png 006 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<a name = "contents" id = "contents">&nbsp;</a>
+<img src = "images/pic_vii.png" width = "241" height = "303"
+alt = "Contents" title = "Contents"></p>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>Where are the songs I used to know? &nbsp; &nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza right">
+<span class = "smallcaps">Christina Rossetti.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<table class = "toc" summary = "table of contents">
+<tr class = "author">
+<td>A�DÉ, HAMILTON (1830).</td>
+<td class = "number smallcaps">page</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Remember or Forget</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page3">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Oh, Let Me Dream</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page6">6</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Love, the Pilgrim</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page7">7</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM (1824-1889).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Lovely Mary Donnelly</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page9">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page13">13</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page14">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Across the Sea</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page16">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">ARNOLD, SIR EDWIN (1832).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page18">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Love Song of Henri Quatre</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page20">20</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">
+<span class = "pagenum">viii</span>
+<a name = "page_viii" id = "page_viii"> </a>
+<!-- png 007 -->
+ASHE, THOMAS (1836-1889).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">No and Yes</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page22">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">At Altenahr</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page23">23</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Marit</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page24">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">AUSTIN, ALFRED (1835).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Night in June</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page26">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">BEDDOES, THOMAS LOVELL (1803-1849).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Dream-Pedlary</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page30">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song from the Ship</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page33">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page34">34</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page35">35</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song, by Two Voices</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page36">36</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page38">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">BENNETT, WILLIAM COX (1820).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Cradle Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page39">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">My Roses blossom the Whole Year Round</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page41">41</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Cradle Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page42">42</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">BOURDILLON, F. W. (1852).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Love’s Meinie</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page43">43</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Night has a Thousand Eyes</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page44">44</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Lost Voice</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page45">45</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">BUCHANAN, ROBERT (1841).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page46">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page48">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">COLLINS, MORTIMER (1827-1876).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">To F. C.</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page49">49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Game of Chess</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page50">50</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Multum in Parvo</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page52">52</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Violets at Home</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page53">53</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">My Thrush</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page54">54</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">
+<span class = "pagenum">ix</span>
+<a name = "page_ix" id = "page_ix"> </a>
+<!-- png 008 -->
+CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK (1826-1887).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Too Late</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page56">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Silly Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page58">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DARLEY, GEORGE (1795-1846).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">May Day</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page60">60</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">I ’ve been Roaming</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page62">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sylvia’s Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page63">63</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page64">64</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DE TABLEY, LORD (1835).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Winter Sketch</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page66">66</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Second Madrigal</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page69">69</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DE VERE, AUBREY (1788-1846).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page70">70</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page72">72</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page74">74</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DICKENS, CHARLES (1812-1870).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Ivy Green</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page75">75</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DOBSON, AUSTIN (1840).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Ladies of St. James’s</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page77">77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Milkmaid</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page81">81</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DOMETT, ALFRED (1811-1887).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Glee for Winter</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page84">84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Kiss</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page86">86</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">DUFFERIN, LADY (1807-1867).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page88">88</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Lament of the Irish Emigrant</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page90">90</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">FIELD, MICHAEL.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Winds To-day are Large and Free</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page94">94</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Let us Wreathe the Mighty Cup</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page96">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Where Winds abound</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page97">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">
+<span class = "pagenum">x</span>
+<a name = "page_x" id = "page_x"> </a>
+<!-- png 009 -->
+GALE, NORMAN (1862).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page98">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page99">99</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">GOSSE, EDMUND (1849).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song for the Lute</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page101">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">HOOD, THOMAS (1798-1845).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Ballad</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page102">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page104">104</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">I Remember, I Remember</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page106">106</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Ballad</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page108">108</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page110">110</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2"><p>HOUGHTON, LORD (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES)
+(1809-1885).</p></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Brookside</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page111">111</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Venetian Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">From Love and Nature</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page115">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">INGELOW, JEAN (1830).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Long White Seam</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page116">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Love</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page118">118</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sweet is Childhood</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">KINGSLEY, CHARLES (1819-1875).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Airly Beacon</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page121">121</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Sands of Dee</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page122">122</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Three Fishers went Sailing</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page124">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Farewell</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page126">126</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE (1775-1864).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Rose Aylmer</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page127">127</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Rubies</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page128">128</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Fault is not Mine</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page129">129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Under the Lindens</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page130">130</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">
+<span class = "pagenum">xi</span>
+<a name = "page_xi" id = "page_xi"> </a>
+<!-- png 010 -->
+Sixteen</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page131">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Ianthe</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page132">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">One Lovely Name</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Forsaken</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">LOCKER-LAMPSON, FREDERICK (1821-1895).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Garden Lyric</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page134">134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Cuckoo</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page137">137</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Gertrude’s Necklace</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page139">139</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">LOVER, SAMUEL (1797-1868).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Angel’s Whisper</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page141">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">What will you do, Love?</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page143">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">MACKAY, CHARLES (1814-1889).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">I Love my Love</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page145">145</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">O Ye Tears!</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">MAHONEY, FRANCIS (1805-1866).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Bells of Shandon</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page149">149</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">MASSEY, GERALD (1828).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page153">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">O’SHAUGHNESSY, ARTHUR (1844-1881).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Love Symphony</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page156">156</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">I made Another Garden</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE (1825-1864).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Lost Chord</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page160">160</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sent to Heaven</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">PROCTER, B. W. (BARRY CORNWALL) (1787-1874).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Poet’s Song to his Wife</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page165">165</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Petition to Time</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page167">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Bacchanalian Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page168">168</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">
+<span class = "pagenum">xii</span>
+<a name = "page_xii" id = "page_xii"> </a>
+<!-- png 011 -->
+She was not Fair nor Full of Grace</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page170">170</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Sea-King</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page172">172</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Serenade</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">King Death</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page176">176</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sit Down, Sad Soul</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page178">178</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Drinking Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page180">180</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Peace! What do Tears Avail?</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page182">182</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Sea</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page184">184</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G. (1830-1895).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page186">186</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page188">188</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page189">189</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Three Seasons</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page190">190</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL (1828-1882).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Little While</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page191">191</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sudden Light</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page193">193</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Three Shadows</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page194">194</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">SCOTT, WILLIAM BELL (1812-1890).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Parting and Meeting Again</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page196">196</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">SKIPSEY, JOSEPH (1832).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Merry Bee</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page198">198</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Songstress</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Violet and the Rose</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page200">200</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">STERRY, J. ASHBY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Regrets</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page201">201</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Daisy’s Dimples</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Lover’s Lullaby</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page204">204</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">
+<span class = "pagenum">xiii</span>
+<a name = "page_xiii" id = "page_xiii"> </a>
+<!-- png 012 -->
+SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES (1837).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">A Match</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page205">205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Rondel</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page208">208</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">TENNYSON, ALFRED (1809-1892).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Bugle Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page210">210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Break, Break, Break</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page212">212</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Tears, Idle Tears</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page213">213</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sweet and Low</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page215">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Turn, Fortune, Turn thy Wheel</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page216">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Vivien’s Song</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page217">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE (1811-1863).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">At the Church Gate</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page218">218</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Mahogany Tree</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "author">
+<td colspan = "2">THORNBURY, GEORGE WALTER (1828-1876).</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Dayrise and Sunset</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Three Troopers</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page225">225</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The Cuckoo</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page228">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration tail">
+<img src = "images/tail_xiii.png" width = "122" height = "116"
+alt = "decoration">
+</p>
+
+
+<a name = "page_xiv" id = "page_xiv"> </a>
+<!-- png 013 -->
+
+<span class = "pagenum">xv</span>
+<a name = "page_xv" id = "page_xv"> </a>
+<!-- png 014 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<a name = "first_lines" id = "first_lines">&nbsp;</a>
+<img src = "images/pic_xv.png" width = "343" height = "274"
+alt = "An Index to First Lines" title = "An Index to First Lines"></p>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>Listen&mdash;Songs thou ’lt hear</p>
+<p>Through the wide world ringing.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza right">
+<span class = "smallcaps">Barry Cornwall.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<table class = "lines" summary = "list of first lines">
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td class = "number smallcaps">page</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><p>A baby was sleeping</p></td>
+<td><i>Samuel Lover</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page141">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>“A cup for hope!� she said</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page190">190</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>A golden bee a-cometh</p></td>
+<td><i>Joseph Skipsey</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page198">198</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>A little shadow makes the sunrise sad</p></td>
+<td><i>Mortimer Collins</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page52">52</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>A little while a little love</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page191">191</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>A thousand voices fill my ears</p></td>
+<td><i>F. W. Bourdillon</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page45">45</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Across the grass I see her pass</p></td>
+<td><i>Austin Dobson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page81">81</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Ah, what avails the sceptered race!</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page127">127</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page121">121</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>All glorious as the Rainbow’s birth</p></td>
+<td><i>Gerald Massey</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page153">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>All through the sultry hours of June</p></td>
+<td><i>Mortimer Collins</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page54">54</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Along the garden ways just now</p></td>
+<td><i>Arthur O’Shaughnessy</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page156">156</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Although I enter not</p></td>
+<td><p><i>William Makepeace Thackeray</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page218">218</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Frederick Locker-Lampson</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page139">139</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>As I came round the harbor buoy</p></td>
+<td><i>Jean Ingelow</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page116">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Awake!&mdash;The starry midnight Hour</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Awake thee, my Lady-love!</p></td>
+<td><i>George Darley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page64">64</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td>
+<span class = "pagenum">xvi</span>
+<a name = "page_xvi" id = "page_xvi"> </a>
+<!-- png 015 -->
+<p>Back flies my soul to other years</p></td>
+<td><i>Joseph Skipsey</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Break, break, break</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page212">212</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Ashe</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page23">23</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Christmas is here</p></td>
+<td><p><i>William Makepeace Thackeray</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Come, rosy Day!</p></td>
+<td><i>Sir Edwin Arnold</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page20">20</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page172">172</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page56">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Drink, and fill the night with mirth!</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page180">180</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold</p></td>
+<td><i>Hamilton Aïdé</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page7">7</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Fast falls the snow, O lady mine</p></td>
+<td><i>Mortimer Collins</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page49">49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>First the fine, faint, dreamy motion</p></td>
+<td><i>Norman Gale</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page98">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Domett</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page84">84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>How many Summers, love</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page165">165</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>How many times do I love thee, dear?</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page38">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>I bring a garland for your head</p></td>
+<td><i>Edmund Gosse</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page101">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I had a Message to send her</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Adelaide Anne Procter</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I have been here before</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page193">193</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover</p></td>
+<td><i>Jean Ingelow</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page118">118</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I looked and saw your eyes</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page194">194</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I made another garden, yea</p></td>
+<td><i>Arthur O’Shaughnessy</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I remember, I remember</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Hood</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page106">106</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I sat beside the streamlet</p></td>
+<td><i>Hamilton Aïdé</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page3">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I wandered by the brook-side</p></td>
+<td><i>Lord Houghton</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page111">111</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I walked in the lonesome evening</p></td>
+<td><i>William Allingham</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page16">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>If I could choose my paradise</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Ashe</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page22">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>If love were what the rose is</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Algernon Charles Swinburne</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page205">205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>If there were dreams to sell</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page30">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I ’m sitting on the stile, Mary</p></td>
+<td><i>Lady Dufferin</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page90">90</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>In Clementina’s artless mien</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page131">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page217">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Into the Devil tavern</p></td>
+<td><p><i>George Walter Thornbury</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page225">225</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>It was not in the winter</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Hood</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page102">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>I ’ve been roaming! I ’ve been roaming!</p></td>
+<td><i>George Darley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page62">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td>
+<span class = "pagenum">xvii</span>
+<a name = "page_xvii" id = "page_xvii"> </a>
+<!-- png 016 -->
+<p>King Death was a rare old fellow!</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page176">176</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Kissing her hair I sat against her feet.</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Algernon Charles Swinburne</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page208">208</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Lady! in this night of June</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Austin</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page26">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Last time I parted from my Dear</p></td>
+<td><i>William Bell Scott</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page196">196</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Let us wreathe the mighty cup</p></td>
+<td><i>Michael Field</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page96">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Little dimples so sweet and soft</p></td>
+<td><i>J. Ashby Sterry</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Lullaby! O lullaby!</p></td>
+<td><i>William Cox Bennett</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page42">42</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady’s ear</p></td>
+<td><i>Sir Edwin Arnold</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page18">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love</p></td>
+<td><i>J. Ashby Sterry</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page204">204</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Mother, I can not mind my wheel</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>My fairest child, I have no song to give you</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page126">126</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>My goblet’s golden lips are dry</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page34">34</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>My love, on a fair May morning</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Ashe</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page24">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>My roses blossom the whole year round</p></td>
+<td><i>William Cox Bennett</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page41">41</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>O for the look of those pure gray eyes</p></td>
+<td><i>J. Ashby Sterry</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page201">201</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O happy buds of violet!</p></td>
+<td><i>Mortimer Collins</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page53">53</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>“O Heart, my heart!� she said, and heard</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page58">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O lady, leave thy silken thread</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Hood</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page104">104</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O lips that mine have grown into</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Algernon Charles Swinburne</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O Love is like the roses</p></td>
+<td><i>Robert Buchanan</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page48">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O May, thou art a merry time</p></td>
+<td><i>George Darley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page60">60</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O roses for the flush of youth</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page188">188</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O spirit of the Summertime!</p></td>
+<td><i>William Allingham</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page13">13</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Mackay</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Often I have heard it said</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page128">128</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Dickens</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page75">75</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear</p></td>
+<td><i>William Allingham</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page14">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by</p></td>
+<td><i>Hamilton Aïdé</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page6">6</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!</p></td>
+<td><i>William Allingham</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page9">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>“Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home�</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page122">122</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>One lovely name adorns my song</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Peace! what can tears avail?</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page182">182</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Seated one day at the Organ</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Adelaide Anne Procter</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page160">160</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Seek not the tree of silkiest bark</p></td>
+<td><i>Aubrey de Vere</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page72">72</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+<span class = "pagenum">xviii</span>
+<a name = "page_xviii" id = "page_xviii"> </a>
+<!-- png 017 -->
+<p>She was not fair, nor full of grace</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page170">170</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>She ’s up and gone, the graceless Girl</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Hood</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page108">108</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sing!&mdash;Who sings</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page168">168</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sit down, sad soul, and count</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page178">178</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!</p></td>
+<td><i>Robert Buchanan</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page46">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sleep! the bird is in its nest</p></td>
+<td><i>William Cox Bennett</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page39">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Softly, O midnight Hours!</p></td>
+<td><i>Audrey de Vere</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page70">70</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Strew not earth with empty stars</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page35">35</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sweet and low, sweet and low</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page215">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sweet is childhood&mdash;childhood ’s over</p></td>
+<td><i>Jean Ingelow</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Sweet mouth! O let me take</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Domett</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page86">86</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page213">213</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Terrace and lawn are white with frost</p></td>
+<td><i>Mortimer Collins</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page50">50</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page132">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The fault is not mine if I love you too much</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page129">129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The ladies of St. James’s</p></td>
+<td><i>Austin Dobson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page77">77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The night has a thousand eyes</p></td>
+<td><i>F. W. Bourdillon</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page44">44</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page184">184</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The splendour falls on castle walls</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page210">210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The stars are with the voyager</p></td>
+<td><i>Thomas Hood</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page110">110</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The streams that wind amid the hills</p></td>
+<td><i>George Darley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page63">63</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The Sun came through the frosty mist</p></td>
+<td><i>Lord Houghton</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page115">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The Violet invited my kiss</p></td>
+<td><i>Joseph Skipsey</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page200">200</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>There is no summer ere the swallows come.</p></td>
+<td><i>F. W. Bourdillon</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page43">43</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Three fishers went sailing away to the West</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page124">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>To sea, to sea! the calm is o’er</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page33">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Touch us gently, Time!</p></td>
+<td><p><i>B. W. Procter</i> (<i>Barry Cornwall</i>)</p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page167">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud!</p></td>
+<td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page216">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Two doves upon the selfsame branch</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page189">189</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Under the lindens lately sat</p></td>
+<td><i>Walter Savage Landor</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page130">130</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr class = "letter">
+<td><p>Wait but a little while</p></td>
+<td><i>Norman Gale</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page99">99</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>We have loiter’d and laugh’d in the flowery croft</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Frederick Locker-Lampson</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page134">134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>We heard it calling, clear and low</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Frederick Locker-Lampson</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page137">137</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>What is the meaning of the song</p></td>
+<td><i>Charles Mackay</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page145">145</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>“What will you do, love, when I am going�</p></td>
+<td><i>Samuel Lover</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page143">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When a warm and scented steam</p></td>
+<td><p><i>George Walter Thornbury</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page228">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When along the light ripple the far serenade</p></td>
+<td><i>Lord Houghton</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+<span class = "pagenum">xix</span>
+<a name = "page_xix" id = "page_xix"> </a>
+<!-- png 018 -->
+<p>When another’s voice thou hearest</p></td>
+<td><i>Lady Dufferin</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page88">88</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When I am dead, my dearest</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page186">186</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When I was young, I said to Sorrow</p></td>
+<td><i>Aubrey de Vere</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page74">74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When Spring casts all her swallows forth</p></td>
+<td><p><i>George Walter Thornbury</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>When the snow begins to feather</p></td>
+<td><i>Lord de Tabley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page66">66</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Where winds abound</p></td>
+<td><i>Michael Field</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page97">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Who is the baby, that doth lie</p></td>
+<td><p><i>Thomas Lovell Beddoes</i></p></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page36">36</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Winds to-day are large and free</p></td>
+<td><i>Michael Field</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page94">94</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>With deep affection</p></td>
+<td><i>Francis Mahoney</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page149">149</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>Woo thy lass while May is here</p></td>
+<td><i>Lord de Tabley</i></td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#page69">69</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration tail">
+<img src = "images/tail_xix.png" width = "128" height = "115"
+alt = "decoration">
+</p>
+
+
+<a name = "page_xx" id = "page_xx"> </a>
+<!-- png 019 -->
+
+<span class = "pagenum">xxi</span>
+<a name = "page_xxi" id = "page_xxi"> </a>
+<!-- png 020 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<a name = "illus" id = "illus">&nbsp;</a>
+<img src = "images/pic_xxi.png" width = "392" height = "389"
+alt = "List of Illustrations" title = "List of Illustrations"></p>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>Their songs wake singing echoes in my land.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza right">
+<span class = "smallcaps">Christina Rossetti.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<table class = "toc" summary = "list of illustrations">
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Sweet and low, sweet and low</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate6">6</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Across the Sea</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate16">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“My love on a fair May morning�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate24">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Song in the Garden</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate38">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">The night has a thousand eyes</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate44">44</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">
+<span class = "pagenum">xxii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxii" id = "page_xxii"> </a>
+<!-- png 021 -->
+A Game of Chess</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate50">50</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“I ’ve been roaming, I ’ve been roaming�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate62">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“A maid I know,&mdash;and March winds blow�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate82">82</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“That bright May morning long ago�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate90">90</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“I remember, I remember�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate106">106</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">I wandered by the brook-side</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate112">112</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“Three fishers went sailing away to the West�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate124">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Ianthe</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate132">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Gertrude’s Necklace</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate140">140</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“She turned back at the last to wait�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">King Death</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate176">176</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“I looked and saw your eyes�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate194">194</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">Break, Break, Break</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate212">212</a></td>
+</tr><!-- extra plate in Little Brown edn -->
+
+<tr>
+<td class = "smallcaps">“When Spring casts all her swallows forth�</td>
+<td class = "number"><a href = "#plate224">224</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration tail">
+<img src = "images/tail_xxii.png" width = "127" height = "123"
+alt = "decoration">
+</p>
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">xxiii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxiii" id = "page_xxiii"> </a>
+<!-- png 022 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<a name = "intro" id = "intro">&nbsp;</a>
+<img src = "images/pic_xxiii.png" width = "403" height = "319"
+alt = "Introduction" title = "Introduction"></p>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>The writer of prose, by intelligence taught,</p>
+<p>Says the thing that will please, in the way that he ought.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza right">
+<span class = "smallcaps">Frederick Locker-Lampson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class = "intro">
+
+<p><span class = "firstletter">N</span><span class = "firstword">o</span>
+species of poetry is more ancient than the lyrical, and yet none shows
+so little sign of having outlived the requirements of human passion. The
+world may grow tired of epics and of tragedies, but each generation, as
+it sees the hawthorns blossom and the freshness of girlhood expand,
+<span class = "pagenum">xxiv</span>
+<a name = "page_xxiv" id = "page_xxiv"> </a>
+<!-- png 023 -->
+is seized with a pang which nothing but the spasm of verse will relieve.
+Each youth imagines that spring-tide and love are wonders which he is
+the first of human beings to appreciate, and he burns to alleviate his
+emotion in rhyme. Historians exaggerate, perhaps, the function of music
+in awakening and guiding the exercise of lyrical poetry. The lyric
+exists, they tell us, as an accompaniment to the lyre; and without the
+mechanical harmony the spoken song is an artifice. Quite as plausibly
+might it be avowed that music was but added to verse to concentrate and
+emphasize its rapture, to add poignancy and volume to its expression.
+But the truth is that these two arts, though sometimes happily allied,
+are, and always have been, independent. When verse has been innocent
+enough to lean on music, we may be likely to find that music also has
+been of the simplest order, and that the pair of them, like two
+delicious children, have tottered and swayed together down the flowery
+meadows of experience. When either poetry or music is adult, the
+presence of each is a distraction
+<span class = "pagenum">xxv</span>
+<a name = "page_xxv" id = "page_xxv"> </a>
+<!-- png 024 -->
+to the other, and each prefers, in the elaborate ages, to stand alone,
+since the mystery of the one confounds the complexity of the other. Most
+poets hate music; few musicians comprehend the nature of poetry; and the
+combination of these arts has probably, in all ages, been contrived, not
+for the satisfaction of artists, but for the convenience of their
+public.</p>
+
+<p>This divorce between poetry and music has been more frankly accepted
+in the present century than ever before, and is nowadays scarcely
+opposed in serious criticism. If music were a necessary ornament of
+lyrical verse, the latter would nowadays scarcely exist; but we hear
+less and less of the poets devotion (save in a purely conventional
+sense) to the lute and the pipe. What we call the Victorian lyric is
+absolutely independent of any such aid. It may be that certain songs of
+Tennyson and Christina Rossetti have been with great popularity “set,�
+as it is called, “to music.� So far as the latter is in itself
+successful, it stultifies the former; and we admit at last that the idea
+of one art aiding another in this
+<span class = "pagenum">xxvi</span>
+<a name = "page_xxvi" id = "page_xxvi"> </a>
+<!-- png 025 -->
+combination is absolutely fictitious. The beauty&mdash;even the beauty
+of sound&mdash;conveyed by the ear in such lyrics as “Break, break,
+break,� or “When I am dead, my dearest,� is obscured, is exchanged for
+another and a rival species of beauty, by the most exquisite musical
+setting that a composer can invent.</p>
+
+<p>The age which has been the first to accept this condition, then,
+should be rich in frankly lyrical poetry; and this we find to be the
+case with the Victorian period. At no time has a greater mass of this
+species of verse been produced, not even in the combined Elizabethan and
+Jacobean age. But when we come to consider the quality of this later
+harvest of song, we observe in it a far less homogeneous character. We
+can take a piece of verse, and decide at sight that it must be
+Elizabethan, or of the age of the Pléiade in France, or of a particular
+period in Italy. Even an ode of our own eighteenth century is hardly to
+be confounded with a fragment from any other school. The great Georgian
+age introduced a wide variety into English poetry; and yet we have but
+to examine the
+<span class = "pagenum">xxvii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxvii" id = "page_xxvii"> </a>
+<!-- png 026 -->
+selected jewels strung into so exquisite a carcanet by Mr. Palgrave in
+his “Golden Treasury� to notice with surprise how close a family
+likeness exists between the contributions of Shelley, Wordsworth, Keats,
+and Byron. The distinctions of style, of course, are very great; but the
+general character of the diction, the imagery, even of the rhythm, is
+more or less identical. The stamp of the same age is upon
+them,&mdash;they are hall-marked 1820.</p>
+
+<p>It is perhaps too early to decide that this will never be the case
+with the Victorian lyrics. While we live in an age we see the
+distinction of its parts, rather than their co-relation. It is said that
+the Japanese Government once sent over a Commission to report upon the
+art of Europe; and that, having visited the exhibitions of London,
+Paris, Florence, and Berlin, the Commissioners confessed that the works
+of the European painters all looked so exactly alike that it was
+difficult to distinguish one from another. The Japanese eye, trained in
+absolutely opposed conventions, could not tell the difference between a
+Watts and a Fortuny, a Théodore Rousseau
+<span class = "pagenum">xxviii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxviii" id = "page_xxviii"> </a>
+<!-- png 027 -->
+and a Henry Moore. So it is quite possible, it is even probable, that
+future critics may see a close similarity where we see nothing but
+divergence between the various productions of the Victorian age. Yet we
+can judge but what we discern; and certainly to the critical eye to-day
+it is the absence of a central tendency, the chaotic cultivation of all
+contrivable varieties of style, which most strikingly seems to
+distinguish the times we live in.</p>
+
+<p>We use the word “Victorian� in literature to distinguish what was
+written after the decline of that age of which Walter Scott, Coleridge,
+and Wordsworth were the survivors. It is well to recollect, however,
+that Tennyson, who is the Victorian writer par excellence, had published
+the most individual and characteristic of his lyrics long before the
+Queen ascended the throne, and that Elizabeth Barrett, Henry Taylor,
+William Barnes, and others were by this date of mature age. It is
+difficult to remind ourselves, who have lived in the radiance of that
+august figure, that some of the most beautiful of Tennyson’s
+<span class = "pagenum">xxix</span>
+<a name = "page_xxix" id = "page_xxix"> </a>
+<!-- png 028 -->
+lyrics, such as “Mariana� and “The Dying Swan� are now separated from us
+by as long a period of years as divided them from Dr. Johnson and the
+author of “Night Thoughts.� The reflection is of value only as warning
+us of the extraordinary length of the epoch we still call “Victorian.�
+It covers, not a mere generation, but much more than half a century.
+During this length of time a complete revolution in literary taste might
+have been expected to take place. This has not occurred, and the cause
+may very well be the extreme license permitted to the poets to adopt
+whatever style they pleased. Where all the doors stand wide open, there
+is no object in escaping; where there is but one door, and that one
+barred, it is human nature to fret for some violent means of evasion.
+How divine have been the methods of the Victorian lyrists may easily be
+exemplified:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p>“Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To heart of neither wife nor maid,</p>
+<p>Lead we not here a jolly life</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Betwixt the shine and shade?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">xxx</span>
+<a name = "page_xxx" id = "page_xxx"> </a>
+<!-- png 029 -->
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To tongue of neither wife nor maid,</p>
+<p>Thou wagg’st, but I am worn with strife,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And feel like flowers that fade.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>That is a masterpiece, but so is this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p>“Nay, but you who do not love her,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is she not pure gold, my mistress?</p>
+<p>Holds earth aught&mdash;speak truth&mdash;above her?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,</p>
+<p>And this last fairest tress of all,</p>
+<p>&mdash;So fair, see, ere I let it fall?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“Because, you spend your lives in praisings,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To praise, you search the wide world over:</p>
+<p>Then why not witness, calmly gazing,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">If earth holds aught&mdash;speak truth&mdash;above
+her?</p>
+<p>Above this tress, and this I touch,</p>
+<p>But cannot praise, I love so much!�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And so is this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p>“Under the wide and starry sky,</p>
+<p>Dig the grave and let me lie.</p>
+<p>Glad did I live and gladly die,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I laid me down with a will.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxi</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxi" id = "page_xxxi"> </a>
+<!-- png 030 -->
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“This be the verse yon grave for me:</p>
+<p>Here he lies where he longed to be;</p>
+<p>Home is the sailor, home from sea,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the hunter home from the hill.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But who would believe that the writers of these were
+contemporaries?</p>
+
+<p>If we examine more closely the forms which lyric poetry has taken
+since 1830, we shall find that certain influences at work in the minds
+of our leading writers have led to the widest divergence in the
+character of lyrical verse. It will be well, perhaps, to consider in
+turn the leading classes of that work. It was not to be expected that in
+an age of such complexity and self-consciousness as ours, the pure song,
+the simple trill of bird-like melody, should often or prominently be
+heard. As civilization spreads, it ceases to be possible, or at least it
+becomes less and less usual, that simple emotion should express itself
+with absolute naïveté. Perhaps Burns was the latest poet in these
+islands whose passion warbled forth in perfectly artless strains; and he
+had the advantage of using a dialect still unsubdued and
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxii" id = "page_xxxii"> </a>
+<!-- png 031 -->
+unvulgarized. Artlessness nowadays must be the result of the most
+exquisitely finished art; if not, it is apt to be insipid, if not
+positively squalid and fusty. The obvious uses of simple words have been
+exhausted; we cannot, save by infinite pains and the exercise of a happy
+genius, recover the old spontaneous air, the effect of an inevitable
+arrangement of the only possible words.</p>
+
+<p>This beautiful direct simplicity, however, was not infrequently
+secured by Tennyson, and scarcely less often by Christina Rossetti, both
+of whom have left behind them jets of pure emotional melody which
+compare to advantage with the most perfect specimens of Greek and
+Elizabethan song. Tennyson did not very often essay this class of
+writing, but when he did, he rarely failed; his songs combine, with
+extreme naturalness and something of a familiar sweetness, a felicity of
+workmanship hardly to be excelled. In her best songs, Miss Rossetti is
+scarcely, if at all, his inferior; but her judgment was far less sure,
+and she was more ready to look with complacency on her failures. The
+songs of Mr. Aubrey&nbsp;de
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxiii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxiii" id = "page_xxxiii"> </a>
+<!-- png 032 -->
+Vere are not well enough known; they are sometimes singularly charming.
+Other poets have once or twice succeeded in catching this clear natural
+treble,&mdash;the living linnet once captured in the elm, as Tusitala
+puts it; but this has not been a gift largely enjoyed by our Victorian
+poets.</p>
+
+<p>The richer and more elaborate forms of lyric, on the contrary, have
+exactly suited this curious and learned age of ours. The species of
+verse which, originally Italian or French, have now so abundantly and so
+admirably been practised in England that we can no longer think of them
+as exotic, having found so many exponents in the Victorian period that
+they are pre-eminently characteristic of it. “Scorn not the Sonnet,�
+said Wordsworth to his contemporaries; but the lesson has not been
+needed in the second half of the century. The sonnet is the most solid
+and unsingable of the sections of lyrical poetry; it is difficult to
+think of it as chanted to a musical accompaniment. It is used with great
+distinction by writers to whom skill in the lighter divisions
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxiv</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxiv" id = "page_xxxiv"> </a>
+<!-- png 033 -->
+of poetry has been denied, and there are poets, such as Bowles and
+Charles Tennyson-Turner, who live by their sonnets alone. The practice
+of the sonnet has been so extended that all sense of monotony has been
+lost. A sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning differs from one by&nbsp;D.
+G. Rossetti or by Matthew Arnold to such excess as to make it difficult
+for us to realize that the form in each case is absolutely
+identical.</p>
+
+<p>With the sonnet might be mentioned the lighter forms of elaborate
+exotic verse; but to these a word shall be given later on. More closely
+allied to the sonnet are those rich and somewhat fantastic
+stanza-measures in which Rossetti delighted. Those in which Keats and
+the Italians have each their part have been greatly used by the
+Victorian poets. They lend themselves to a melancholy magnificence, to
+pomp of movement and gorgeousness of color; the very sight of them gives
+the page the look of an ancient blazoned window. Poems of this class are
+“The Stream’s Secret� and the choruses in “Love is enough.� They satisfy
+the appetite of our time for subtle and
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxv</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxv" id = "page_xxxv"> </a>
+<!-- png 034 -->
+vague analysis of emotion, for what appeals to the spirit through the
+senses; but here, again, in different hands, the “thing,� the metrical
+instrument, takes wholly diverse characters, and we seek in vain for a
+formula that can include Robert Browning and Gabriel Rossetti, William
+Barnes and Arthur Hugh Clough.</p>
+
+<p>From this highly elaborated and extended species of lyric the
+transition is easy to the Ode. In the Victorian age, the ode, in its
+full Pindaric sense, has not been very frequently used. We have
+specimens by Mr. Swinburne in which the Dorian laws are closely adhered
+to. But the ode, in a more or less irregular form, whether pæan or
+threnody, has been the instrument of several of our leading lyrists. The
+genius of Mr. Swinburne, even to a greater degree than that of Shelley,
+is essentially dithyrambic, and is never happier than when it spreads
+its wings as wide as those of the wild swan, and soars upon the very
+breast of tempest. In these flights Mr. Swinburne attains to a volume of
+sonorous melody such as no other poet, perhaps, of the world
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxvi</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxvi" id = "page_xxxvi"> </a>
+<!-- png 035 -->
+has reached, and we may say to him, as he has shouted to the Mater
+Triumphalis:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p>“Darkness to daylight shall lift up thy pæan,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hill to hill thunder, vale cry back to vale,</p>
+<p>With wind-notes as of eagles Æschylean,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And Sappho singing in the nightingale.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Nothing could mark more picturesquely the wide diversity permitted in
+Victorian lyric than to turn from the sonorous and tumultuous odes of
+Mr. Swinburne to those of Mr. Patmore, in which stateliness of
+contemplation and a peculiar austerity of tenderness find their
+expression in odes of iambic cadence, the melody of which depends, not
+in their headlong torrent of sound, but in the cunning variation of
+catalectic pause. A similar form has been adopted by Lord De Tabley for
+many of his gorgeous studies of antique myth, and by Tennyson for his
+“Death of the Duke of Wellington.� It is an error to call these iambic
+odes “irregular,� although they do not follow the classic rules with
+strophe, antistrophe, and epode. The enchanting “I have led her
+home,�&nbsp;in
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxvii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxvii" id = "page_xxxvii"> </a>
+<!-- png 036 -->
+“Maud,� is an example of this kind of lyric at its highest point of
+perfection.</p>
+
+<p>A branch of lyrical poetry which has been very widely cultivated in
+the Victorian age is the philosophical, or gnomic, in which a serious
+chain of thought, often illustrated by complex and various imagery, is
+held in a casket of melodious verse, elaborately rhymed. Matthew Arnold
+was a master of this kind of poetry, which takes its form, through
+Wordsworth, from the solemn and so-called “metaphysical� writers of the
+seventeenth century. We class this interesting and abundant section of
+verse with the lyrical, because we know not by what other name to
+describe it; yet it has obviously as little as possible of the singing
+ecstasy about it. It neither pours its heart out in a rapture, nor wails
+forth its despair. It has as little of the nightingale’s rich melancholy
+as of the lark’s delirium. It hardly sings, but, with infinite decorum
+and sobriety, speaks its melodious message to mankind. This sort of
+philosophical poetry is really critical; its function is to analyze and
+describe; and it approaches,
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxviii</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxviii" id = "page_xxxviii"> </a>
+<!-- png 037 -->
+save for the enchantment of its form, nearer to prose than do the other
+sections of the art. It is, however, just this species of poetry which
+has particularly appealed to the age in which we live; and how naturally
+it does so may be seen in the welcome extended to the polished and
+serene compositions of Mr. William Watson.</p>
+
+<p>Almost a creation, or at least a complete conquest, of the Victorian
+age is the humorous lyric in its more delicate developments. If the past
+can point to Prior and to Praed, we can boast, in their various
+departments, of Calverly, of Locker-Lampson, of Mr. Andrew Lang, of Mr.
+W.&nbsp;S. Gilbert. The comic muse, indeed, has marvellously extended
+her blandishments during the last two generations, and has discovered
+methods of trivial elegance which were quite unknown to our forefathers.
+Here must certainly be said a word in favor of those French forms of
+verse, all essentially lyrical, such as the ballad, the rondel, the
+triolet, which have been used so abundantly as to become quite a
+<span class = "pagenum">xxxix</span>
+<a name = "page_xxxix" id = "page_xxxix"> </a>
+<!-- png 038 -->
+feature in our lighter literature. These are not, or are but rarely,
+fitted to bear the burden of high emotion; but their precision, and the
+deftness which their use demands fit them exceedingly well for the more
+distinguished kind of persiflage. No one has kept these delicate
+butterflies in flight with the agile movement of his fan so admirably as
+Mr. Austin Dobson, that neatest of magicians.</p>
+
+<p>Those who write hastily of Victorian lyrical poetry are apt to find
+fault with its lack of spontaneity. It is true that we cannot pretend to
+discover on a greensward so often crossed and re-crossed as the poetic
+language of England many morning dewdrops still glistening on the
+grasses. We have to pay the penalty of our experience in a certain lack
+of innocence. The artless graces of a child seem mincing affectations in
+a grown-up woman. But the poetry of this age has amply made up for any
+lack of innocence by its sumptuous fulness, its variety, its magnificent
+accomplishment, its felicitous response to a multitude of moods and
+apprehensions.
+<span class = "pagenum">xl</span>
+<a name = "page_xl" id = "page_xl"> </a>
+<!-- png 039 -->
+It has struck out no new field for itself; it still remains where the
+romantic revolution of 1798 placed it; its aims are not other than were
+those of Coleridge and of Keats. But within that defined sphere it has
+developed a surprising activity. It has occupied the attention and
+become the facile instrument of men of the greatest genius, writers of
+whom any age and any language might be proud. It has been tender and
+fiery, severe and voluminous, gorgeous and marmoreal, in turns. It has
+translated into words feelings so subtle, so transitory, moods so
+fragile and intangible, that the rough hand of prose would but have
+crushed them. And this, surely, indicates the great gift of Victorian
+lyrical poetry to the race. During a time of extreme mental and moral
+restlessness, a time of speculation and evolution, when all illusions
+are tested, all conventions overthrown, when the harder elements of life
+have been brought violently to the front, and where there is a
+temptation for the emancipated mind roughly to reject what is not
+material and obvious, this art has preserved intact the
+<span class = "pagenum">xli</span>
+<a name = "page_xli" id = "page_xli"> </a>
+<!-- png 040 -->
+lovelier delusions of the spirit, all that is vague and incorporeal and
+illusory. So that for Victorian Lyric generally no better final
+definition can be given than is supplied by Mr. Robert Bridges in a
+little poem of incomparable beauty, which may fitly bring this essay to
+a close:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p>“I have loved flowers that fade,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Within whose magic tents</p>
+<p>Rich hues have marriage made</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With sweet immemorial scents:</p>
+<p>A joy of love at sight,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A honeymoon delight,</p>
+<p>That ages in an hour:&mdash;</p>
+<p>My song be like a flower.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“I have loved airs that die</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Before their charm is writ</p>
+<p>Upon the liquid sky</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Trembling to welcome it.</p>
+<p>Notes that with pulse of fire</p>
+<p>Proclaim the spirit’s desire,</p>
+<p>Then die, and are nowhere:&mdash;</p>
+<p>My song be like an air.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "rightside">
+<span class = "smallcaps">Edmund Gosse.</span></p>
+
+</div> <!-- end div intro -->
+
+<a name = "page_xlii" id = "page_xlii"> </a>
+<!-- png 041 -->
+
+</div> <!-- end div prelim -->
+
+
+<div class = "maintext">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">1</span>
+<a name = "page1" id = "page1"> </a>
+<!-- png 042 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/halftitle2.png" width = "260" height = "39"
+alt = "Victorian Songs" title = "Victorian Songs"></p>
+
+<p class = "right sans">
+“Short swallow-flights of song�</p>
+
+<p class = "right sans">
+TENNYSON</p>
+
+<p class = "right">
+<img src = "images/tinyrose.png" width = "17" height = "17"
+alt = "tiny rose">
+&nbsp;
+<img src = "images/tinyrose.png" width = "17" height = "17"
+alt = "tiny rose"></p>
+
+
+<a name = "page2" id = "page2"> </a>
+<!-- png 043 -->
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">3</span>
+<a name = "page3" id = "page3"> </a>
+<!-- png 044 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head003.png" width = "376" height = "199"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>HAMILTON A�DÉ.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1830.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>REMEMBER OR FORGET.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;sat</span> beside the streamlet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I watched the water flow,</p>
+<p>As we together watched it</p>
+<p class = "inset1">One little year ago;</p>
+<p>The soft rain pattered on the leaves,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The April grass was wet,</p>
+<p>Ah! folly to remember;&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">’T is wiser to forget.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">4</span>
+<a name = "page4" id = "page4"> </a>
+<!-- png 045 -->
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>The nightingales made vocal</p>
+<p class = "inset1">June’s palace paved with gold;</p>
+<p>I watched the rose you gave me</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Its warm red heart unfold;</p>
+<p>But breath of rose and bird’s song</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Were fraught with wild regret.</p>
+<p>’T is madness to remember;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">’T were wisdom to forget.</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>I stood among the gold corn,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Alas! no more, I knew,</p>
+<p>To gather gleaner’s measure</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the love that fell from you.</p>
+<p>For me, no gracious harvest&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Would God we ne’er had met!</p>
+<p>’T is hard, Love, to remember, but</p>
+<p class = "inset1">’T is harder to forget.</p>
+
+<h5>IV.</h5>
+
+<p>The streamlet now is frozen,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The nightingales are fled,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">5</span>
+<a name = "page5" id = "page5"> </a>
+<!-- png 046 -->
+<p>The cornfields are deserted,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And every rose is dead.</p>
+<p>I sit beside my lonely fire,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And pray for wisdom yet&mdash;</p>
+<p>For calmness to remember</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or courage to forget.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail005.png" width = "127" height = "96"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">6</span>
+<a name = "page6" id = "page6"> </a>
+<!-- png 047 -->
+<h4>OH, LET ME DREAM.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">FROM “A NINE DAYS’ WONDER.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">h!</span>
+let me dream of happy days gone by,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Forgetting sorrows that have come between,</p>
+<p>As sunlight gilds some distant summit high,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And leaves the valleys dark that intervene.</p>
+<p>The phantoms of remorse that haunt</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The soul, are laid beneath that spell;</p>
+<p>As, in the music of a chaunt</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is lost the tolling of a bell.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by, etc.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+In youth, we plucked full many a flower that died,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Dropped on the pathway, as we danced along;</p>
+<p>And now, we cherish each poor leaflet dried</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In pages which to that dear past belong.</p>
+<p>With sad crushed hearts they yet retain</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Some semblance of their glories fled;</p>
+<p>Like us, whose lineaments remain,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When all the fires of life are dead.</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Oh! let me dream, etc.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 048 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate6" id = "plate6"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp6.jpg" width = "366" height = "536"
+alt = "“Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by�"
+title = "“Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by�">
+</p>
+
+<!-- png 049 -->
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">7</span>
+<a name = "page7" id = "page7"> </a>
+<!-- png 050 -->
+<h4>LOVE, THE PILGRIM.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SUGGESTED BY A SKETCH BY E. BURNE-JONES.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">E</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">very</span>
+day a Pilgrim, blindfold,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When the night and morning meet,</p>
+<p>Entereth the slumbering city,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Stealeth down the silent street;</p>
+<p>Lingereth round some battered doorway,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Leaves unblest some portal grand,</p>
+<p>And the walls, where sleep the children,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Toucheth, with his warm young hand.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Love is passing! Love is passing!&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Passing while ye lie asleep:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">In your blessèd dreams, O children,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Give him all your hearts to keep!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Blindfold is this Pilgrim, Maiden.</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Though to-day he touched thy door,</p>
+<p>He may pass it by to-morrow&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">&mdash;Pass it&mdash;to return no more.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">8</span>
+<a name = "page8" id = "page8"> </a>
+<!-- png 051 -->
+<p>Let us then with prayers entreat him,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Youth! her heart, whose coldness grieves,</p>
+<p>May one morn by Love be softened;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Prize the treasure that he leaves.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Love is passing! Love is passing!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">All, with hearts to hope and pray,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Bid this pilgrim touch the lintels</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Of your doorways every day.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail008.png" width = "125" height = "95"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">9</span>
+<a name = "page9" id = "page9"> </a>
+<!-- png 052 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head009.png" width = "381" height = "150"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1824-1889.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>LOVELY MARY DONNELLY.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">h,</span>
+lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!</p>
+<p>If fifty girls were round you, I ’d hardly see the rest;</p>
+<p>Be what it may the time o’ day, the place be where it will,</p>
+<p>Sweet looks o’ Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Her eyes like mountain water that ’s flowing on a rock,</p>
+<p>How clear they are, how dark they are! they give me many a shock;</p>
+<p>Red rowans warm in sunshine and wetted with a show’r,</p>
+<p>Could ne’er express the charming lip that has me in its pow’r.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">10</span>
+<a name = "page10" id = "page10"> </a>
+<!-- png 053 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows lifted up,</p>
+<p>Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like a china cup,</p>
+<p>Her hair ’s the brag of Ireland, so weighty and so fine;</p>
+<p>It ’s rolling down upon her neck, and gathered in a twine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The dance o’ last Whit-Monday night exceeded all before,</p>
+<p>No pretty girl for miles about was missing from the floor;</p>
+<p>But Mary kept the belt o’ love, and O but she was gay!</p>
+<p>She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my heart away.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete</p>
+<p>The music nearly kill’d itself to listen to her feet;</p>
+<p>The fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her so much praised,</p>
+<p>But bless’d his luck to not be deaf when once her voice she raised.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">11</span>
+<a name = "page11" id = "page11"> </a>
+<!-- png 054 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+And evermore I ’m whistling or lilting what you sung,</p>
+<p>Your smile is always in my heart, your name beside my tongue;</p>
+<p>But you ’ve as many sweethearts as you ’d count on both your hands,</p>
+<p>And for myself there ’s not a thumb or little finger stands.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+’T is you ’re the flower o’ womankind in country or in town;</p>
+<p>The higher I exalt you, the lower I ’m cast down.</p>
+<p>If some great lord should come this way, and see your beauty bright,</p>
+<p>And you to be his lady, I ’d own it was but right.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O might we live together in a lofty palace hall,</p>
+<p>Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall!</p>
+<p>O might we live together in a cottage mean and small,</p>
+<p>With sods o’ grass the only roof, and mud the only wall!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">12</span>
+<a name = "page12" id = "page12"> </a>
+<!-- png 055 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty ’s my distress.</p>
+<p>It ’s far too beauteous to be mine, but I ’ll never wish it less.</p>
+<p>The proudest place would fit your face, and I am poor and low;</p>
+<p>But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you may go!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail012.png" width = "127" height = "57"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">13</span>
+<a name = "page13" id = "page13"> </a>
+<!-- png 056 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;spirit</span>
+of the Summertime!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Bring back the roses to the dells;</p>
+<p>The swallow from her distant clime,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The honey-bee from drowsy cells.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Bring back the friendship of the sun;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The gilded evenings, calm and late,</p>
+<p>When merry children homeward run,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And peeping stars bid lovers wait.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Bring back the singing; and the scent</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of meadowlands at dewy prime;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Oh, bring again my heart’s content,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thou Spirit of the Summertime!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">14</span>
+<a name = "page14" id = "page14"> </a>
+<!-- png 057 -->
+<h4>SERENADE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">h,</span>
+hearing sleep, and sleeping hear,</p>
+<p>The while we dare to call thee dear,</p>
+<p>So may thy dreams be good, altho’</p>
+<p>The loving power thou dost not know.</p>
+<p>As music parts the silence,&mdash;lo!</p>
+<p>Through heaven the stars begin to peep,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To comfort us that darkling pine</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Because those fairer lights of thine</p>
+<p>Have set into the Sea of Sleep.</p>
+<p>Yet closèd still thine eyelids keep;</p>
+<p>And may our voices through the sphere</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of Dreamland all as softly rise</p>
+<p>As through these shadowy rural dells,</p>
+<p>Where bashful Echo somewhere dwells,</p>
+<p>And touch thy spirit to as soft replies.</p>
+<p>May peace from gentle guardian skies,</p>
+<p>Till watches of the dark are worn,</p>
+<p>Surround thy bed, and joyous morn</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">15</span>
+<a name = "page15" id = "page15"> </a>
+<!-- png 058 -->
+<p class = "inset1">Makes all the chamber rosy bright!</p>
+<p>Good-night!&mdash;From far-off fields is borne</p>
+<p>The drowsy Echo’s faint ‘Good-night,’&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Good-night! Good-night!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail015.png" width = "126" height = "52"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 060 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate16" id = "plate16"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp16.jpg" width = "365" height = "564"
+alt = "Across the Sea" title = "Across the Sea">
+</p>
+
+<!-- png 061 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">16</span>
+<a name = "page16" id = "page16"> </a>
+<!-- png 059 -->
+<h4>ACROSS THE SEA.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p class = "inset1"><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;walked</span>
+in the lonesome evening,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And who so sad as I,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When I saw the young men and maidens</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Merrily passing by.</p>
+<p class = "inset3">To thee, my Love, to thee&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">So fain would I come to thee!</p>
+<p>While the ripples fold upon sands of gold,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And I look across the sea.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+I stretch out my hands; who will clasp them?</p>
+<p class = "inset2">I call,&mdash;thou repliest no word.</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Oh, why should heart-longing be weaker</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Than the waving wings of a bird!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">To thee, my Love, to thee&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">So fain would I come to thee!</p>
+<p>For the tide ’s at rest from east to west,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And I look across the sea.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">17</span>
+<a name = "page17" id = "page17"> </a>
+<!-- png 062 -->
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+There ’s joy in the hopeful morning,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">There ’s peace in the parting day,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">There ’s sorrow with every lover</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Whose true love is far away.</p>
+<p class = "inset3">To thee, my Love, to thee&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">So fain would I come to thee!</p>
+<p>And the water ’s bright in a still moonlight,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">As I look across the sea.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail017.png" width = "127" height = "66"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">18</span>
+<a name = "page18" id = "page18"> </a>
+<!-- png 063 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head018.png" width = "377" height = "171"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1832.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SERENADE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ute!</span>
+breathe thy lowest in my Lady’s ear,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing while she sleeps, “Ah! belle dame, aimez-vous?�</p>
+<p>Till, dreaming still, she dream that I am here,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And wake to find it, as my love is, true;</p>
+<p>Then, when she listens in her warm white nest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Say in slow music,&mdash;softer, tenderer yet,</p>
+<p>That lute-strings quiver when their tone ’s at rest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And my heart trembles when my lips are set.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Stars! if my sweet love still a-dreaming lies,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Shine through the roses for a lover’s sake</p>
+<p>And send your silver to her lidded eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Kissing them very gently till she wake;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">19</span>
+<a name = "page19" id = "page19"> </a>
+<!-- png 064 -->
+<p>Then while she wonders at the lay and light,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Tell her, though morning endeth star and song,</p>
+<p>That ye live still, when no star glitters bright,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And my love lasteth, though it finds no tongue.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail019.png" width = "117" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">20</span>
+<a name = "page20" id = "page20"> </a>
+<!-- png 065 -->
+<h4>A LOVE SONG OF HENRI QUATRE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap3">C</p>
+<p class = "inset3"><span class = "firstword">ome,</span>
+rosy Day!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Come quick&mdash;I pray&mdash;</p>
+<p>I am so glad when I thee see!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Because my Fair,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Who is so dear,</p>
+<p>Is rosy-red and white like thee.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+She lives, I think,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">On heavenly drink</p>
+<p>Dawn-dew, which Hebe pours for her;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Else&mdash;when I sip</p>
+<p class = "inset3">At her soft lip</p>
+<p>How smells it of ambrosia?</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+She is so fair</p>
+<p class = "inset3">None can compare;</p>
+<p>And, oh, her slender waist divine!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Her sparkling eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Set in the skies</p>
+<p>The morning stars would far outshine!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">21</span>
+<a name = "page21" id = "page21"> </a>
+<!-- png 066 -->
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+Only to hear</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Her voice so clear</p>
+<p>The village gathers in the street;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And Tityrus,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Grown one of us,</p>
+<p>Leaves piping on his flute so sweet.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+The Graces three,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Where’er she be,</p>
+<p>Call all the Loves to flutter nigh;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And what she ’ll say,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Speak when she may,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Is full of sense and majesty!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail021.png" width = "121" height = "86"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">22</span>
+<a name = "page22" id = "page22"> </a>
+<!-- png 067 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head022.png" width = "379" height = "163"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>THOMAS ASHE.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1836-1889.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>NO AND YES.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">f</span>
+I could choose my paradise,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And please myself with choice of bliss,</p>
+<p>Then I would have your soft blue eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And rosy little mouth to kiss!</p>
+<p>Your lips, as smooth and tender, child,</p>
+<p>As rose-leaves in a coppice wild.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If fate bade choose some sweet unrest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To weave my troubled life a snare,</p>
+<p>Then I would say “her maiden breast</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And golden ripple of her hair;�</p>
+<p>And weep amid those tresses, child,</p>
+<p>Contented to be thus beguiled.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">23</span>
+<a name = "page23" id = "page23"> </a>
+<!-- png 068 -->
+<h4>AT ALTENAHR.</h4>
+
+<p class = "dates">1872.</p>
+
+<h5><i>Meet we no angels, Pansie?</i></h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">C</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ame,</span>
+on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In white, to find her lover;</p>
+<p>The grass grew proud beneath her feet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The green elm-leaves above her:&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Meet we no angels, Pansie?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+She said, “We meet no angels now;�</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And soft lights streamed upon her;</p>
+<p>And with white hand she touched a bough;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She did it that great honour:&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">What! meet no angels, Pansie?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Down-dropped brown eyes so tender!</p>
+<p>Then what said I?&mdash;Gallant replies</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Seem flattery, and offend her:&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But,&mdash;meet no angels, Pansie?</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 070 -->
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate24" id = "plate24"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp24.jpg" width = "374" height = "531"
+alt = "“My love on a fair May morning�"
+title = "“My love on a fair May morning�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 071 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">24</span>
+<a name = "page24" id = "page24"> </a>
+<!-- png 069 -->
+<h4>MARIT.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">1869-70.</span></h4>
+
+<h5><i>C’est un songe que d’y penser.</i></h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">y</span>
+love, on a fair May morning,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Would weave a garland of May:</p>
+<p>The dew hung frore, as her foot tripped o’er</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The grass at dawn of the day;</p>
+<p>On leaf and stalk, in each green wood-walk,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Till the sun should charm it away.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Green as a leaf her kirtle,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her bodice red as a rose:</p>
+<p>Her white bare feet went softly and sweet</p>
+<p class = "inset1">By roots where the violet grows;</p>
+<p>Where speedwells azure as heaven,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Their sleepy eyes half close.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O’er arms as fair as the lilies</p>
+<p class = "inset1">No sleeve my love drew on:</p>
+<p>She found a bower of the wildrose flower,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And for her breast culled one:</p>
+<p>And I laugh and know her breasts will grow</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or ever a year be gone.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">25</span>
+<a name = "page25" id = "page25"> </a>
+<!-- png 072 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+O sweet dream, wrought of a dear fore-thought,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of a golden time to fall!</p>
+<p>She seemed to sing, in her wandering,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Till doves in the elm-tops tall</p>
+<p>Grew mute to hear; as her song rang clear</p>
+<p class = "inset1">How love is the lord of all.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail025.png" width = "124" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">26</span>
+<a name = "page26" id = "page26"> </a>
+<!-- png 073 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head026.png" width = "375" height = "167"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ALFRED AUSTIN.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1835.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A NIGHT IN JUNE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ady!</span>
+in this night of June,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fair like thee and holy,</p>
+<p>Art thou gazing at the moon</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That is rising slowly?</p>
+<p class = "inset2">I am gazing on her now:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Something tells me, so art thou.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Night hath been when thou and I</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Side by side were sitting,</p>
+<p>Watching o’er the moonlit sky</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fleecy cloudlets flitting.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Close our hands were linkèd then;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">When will they be linked again?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">27</span>
+<a name = "page27" id = "page27"> </a>
+<!-- png 074 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+What to me the starlight still,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or the moonbeams’ splendour,</p>
+<p>If I do not feel the thrill</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of thy fingers slender?</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Summer nights in vain are clear,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">If thy footstep be not near.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Roses slumbering in their sheaths</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O’er my threshold clamber,</p>
+<p>And the honeysuckle wreathes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Its translucent amber</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Round the gables of my home:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">How is it thou dost not come?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If thou camest, rose on rose</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From its sleep would waken;</p>
+<p>From each flower and leaf that blows</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Spices would be shaken;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Floating down from star and tree,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Dreamy perfumes welcome thee.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">28</span>
+<a name = "page28" id = "page28"> </a>
+<!-- png 075 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I would lead thee where the leaves</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the moon-rays glisten;</p>
+<p>And, where shadows fall in sheaves,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We would lean and listen</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For the song of that sweet bird</p>
+<p class = "inset2">That in April nights is heard.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+And when weary lids would close,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And thy head was drooping,</p>
+<p>Then, like dew that steeps the rose,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O’er thy languor stooping,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">I would, till I woke a sigh,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Kiss thy sweet lips silently.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I would give thee all I own,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All thou hast would borrow,</p>
+<p>I from thee would keep alone</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fear and doubt and sorrow.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">All of tender that is mine</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Should most tenderly be thine.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">29</span>
+<a name = "page29" id = "page29"> </a>
+<!-- png 076 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Moonlight! into other skies,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I beseech thee wander.</p>
+<p>Cruel thus to mock mine eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Idle, thus to squander</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Love’s own light on this dark spot;&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For my lady cometh not!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail019.png" width = "117" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">30</span>
+<a name = "page30" id = "page30"> </a>
+<!-- png 077 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head030.png" width = "376" height = "174"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1803-1849.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>DREAM-PEDLARY.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">f</span>
+there were dreams to sell,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What would you buy?</p>
+<p>Some cost a passing bell;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Some a light sigh,</p>
+<p>That shakes from Life’s fresh crown</p>
+<p>Only a rose-leaf down.</p>
+<p>If there were dreams to sell,</p>
+<p>Merry and sad to tell,</p>
+<p>And the crier rung the bell,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What would you buy?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">31</span>
+<a name = "page31" id = "page31"> </a>
+<!-- png 078 -->
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>A cottage lone and still,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With bowers nigh,</p>
+<p>Shadowy, my woes to still,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Until I die.</p>
+<p>Such pearl from Life’s fresh crown</p>
+<p>Fain would I shake me down.</p>
+<p>Were dreams to have at will,</p>
+<p>This would best heal my ill,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">This would I buy.</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>But there were dreams to sell</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ill didst thou buy;</p>
+<p>Life is a dream, they tell,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Waking, to die.</p>
+<p>Dreaming a dream to prize,</p>
+<p>Is wishing ghosts to rise;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And, if I had the spell</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To call the buried well,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Which one would I?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">32</span>
+<a name = "page32" id = "page32"> </a>
+<!-- png 079 -->
+<h5>IV.</h5>
+
+<p>If there are ghosts to raise,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What shall I call,</p>
+<p>Out of hell’s murky haze,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Heaven’s blue pall?</p>
+<p>Raise my loved long-lost boy</p>
+<p>To lead me to his joy.&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">There are no ghosts to raise;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Out of death lead no ways;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Vain is the call.</p>
+
+<h5>V.</h5>
+
+<p>Know’st thou not ghosts to sue</p>
+<p class = "inset1">No love thou hast.</p>
+<p>Else lie, as I will do,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And breathe thy last.</p>
+<p>So out of Life’s fresh crown</p>
+<p>Fall like a rose-leaf down.</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thus are the ghosts to woo;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thus are all dreams made true,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Ever to last!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">33</span>
+<a name = "page33" id = "page33"> </a>
+<!-- png 080 -->
+<h4>SONG FROM THE SHIP.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “DEATH’S JEST-BOOK.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">o</span>
+sea, to sea! the calm is o’er;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The wanton water leaps in sport,</p>
+<p>And rattles down the pebbly shore;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,</p>
+<p>And unseen Mermaids’ pearly song</p>
+<p>Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To sea, to sea! the calm is o’er.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+To sea, to sea! Our wide-winged bark</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,</p>
+<p>And with its shadow, fleet and dark,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Break the caved Tritons’ azure day,</p>
+<p>Like mighty eagle soaring light</p>
+<p>O’er antelopes on Alpine height.</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The sails swell full. To sea, to sea!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">34</span>
+<a name = "page34" id = "page34"> </a>
+<!-- png 081 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">y</span>
+goblet’s golden lips are dry,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And, as the rose doth pine</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For dew, so doth for wine
+<!-- pity “tea� doesn’t rhyme --></p>
+<p class = "inset2">My goblet’s cup;</p>
+<p>Rain, O! rain, or it will die;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Rain, fill it up!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Arise, and get thee wings to-night,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ætna! and let run o’er</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thy wines, a hill no more,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But darkly frown</p>
+<p>A cloud, where eagles dare not soar,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Dropping rain down.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">35</span>
+<a name = "page35" id = "page35"> </a>
+<!-- png 082 -->
+<h4>SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE SECOND BROTHER.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">trew</span>
+not earth with empty stars,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Strew it not with roses,</p>
+<p>Nor feathers from the crest of Mars,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Nor summer’s idle posies.</p>
+<p>’T is not the primrose-sandalled moon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Nor cold and silent morn,</p>
+<p>Nor he that climbs the dusty noon,</p>
+<p>Nor mower war with scythe that drops,</p>
+<p>Stuck with helmed and turbaned tops</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of enemies new shorn.</p>
+<p>Ye cups, ye lyres, ye trumpets know,</p>
+<p>Pour your music, let it flow,</p>
+<p>’T is Bacchus’ son who walks below.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">36</span>
+<a name = "page36" id = "page36"> </a>
+<!-- png 083 -->
+<h4>SONG, BY TWO VOICES.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE BRIDES’ TRAGEDY.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>FIRST VOICE.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ho</span>
+is the baby, that doth lie</p>
+<p>Beneath the silken canopy</p>
+<p>Of thy blue eye?</p>
+
+<h5>SECOND.</h5>
+
+<p>It is young Sorrow, laid asleep</p>
+<p>In the crystal deep.</p>
+
+<h5>BOTH.</h5>
+
+<p>Let us sing his lullaby,</p>
+<p>Heigho! a sob and a sigh.</p>
+
+<h5>FIRST VOICE.</h5>
+
+<p>What sound is that, so soft, so clear,</p>
+<p>Harmonious as a bubbled tear</p>
+<p>Bursting, we hear?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">37</span>
+<a name = "page37" id = "page37"> </a>
+<!-- png 084 -->
+<h5>SECOND.</h5>
+
+<p>It is young Sorrow, slumber breaking,</p>
+<p>Suddenly awaking.</p>
+
+<h5>BOTH.</h5>
+
+<p>Let us sing his lullaby,</p>
+<p>Heigho! a sob and a sigh.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail037.png" width = "127" height = "79"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">38</span>
+<a name = "page38" id = "page38"> </a>
+<!-- png 085 -->
+<h4>SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “TORRISMOND.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">H</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ow</span>
+many times do I love thee, dear?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Tell me how many thoughts there be</p>
+<p class = "inset2">In the atmosphere</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Of a new-fall’n year,</p>
+<p>Whose white and sable hours appear</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The latest flake of Eternity:&mdash;</p>
+<p>So many times do I love thee, dear.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+How many times do I love again?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Tell me how many beads there are</p>
+<p class = "inset2">In a silver chain</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Of evening rain,</p>
+<p>Unravelled from the tumbling main,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And threading the eye of a yellow star:&mdash;</p>
+<p>So many times do I love again.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<!-- png 086 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate38" id = "plate38"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp38.jpg" width = "341" height = "488"
+alt = "Song in the Garden" title = "Song in the Garden">
+</p>
+<!-- png 087 -->
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">39</span>
+<a name = "page39" id = "page39"> </a>
+<!-- png 088 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head039.png" width = "372" height = "158"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>WILLIAM COX BENNETT.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1820</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>CRADLE SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">leep!</span>
+the bird is in its nest;</p>
+<p>Sleep! the bee is hushed in rest;</p>
+<p>Sleep! rocked on thy mother’s breast!</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+<p>To thy mother’s fond heart pressed,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep! the waning daylight dies;</p>
+<p>Sleep! the stars dream in the skies;</p>
+<p>Daisies long have closed their eyes;</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+<p>Calm, how calm on all things lies!</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">40</span>
+<a name = "page40" id = "page40"> </a>
+<!-- png 089 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep then, sleep! my heart’s delight!</p>
+<p>Sleep! and through the darksome night</p>
+<p>Round thy bed God’s angels bright</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+<p>Guard thee till I come with light!</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Lullaby!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail040.png" width = "126" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">41</span>
+<a name = "page41" id = "page41"> </a>
+<!-- png 090 -->
+<h4>MY ROSES BLOSSOM THE WHOLE YEAR ROUND.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">y</span>
+roses blossom the whole year round;</p>
+<p>For, O they grow on enchanted ground;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Divine is the earth</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Where they spring to birth;</p>
+<p>On dimpling cheeks with love and mirth,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">They ’re found</p>
+<p class = "inset2">They ’re ever found.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+My lilies no change of seasons heed;</p>
+<p>Nor shelter from storms or frosts they need;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For, O they grow</p>
+<p class = "inset2">On a neck of snow,</p>
+<p>Nor all the wintry blasts that blow</p>
+<p class = "inset3">They heed,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">They ever heed.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">42</span>
+<a name = "page42" id = "page42"> </a>
+<!-- png 091 -->
+<h4>CRADLE SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ullaby!</span>
+O lullaby!</p>
+<p>Baby, hush that little cry!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Light is dying,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Bats are flying,</p>
+<p>Bees to-day with work have done;</p>
+<p>So, till comes the morrow’s sun,</p>
+<p>Let sleep kiss those bright eyes dry!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Lullaby! O lullaby!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Lullaby! O lullaby!</p>
+<p>Hushed are all things far and nigh;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Flowers are closing,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Birds reposing,</p>
+<p>All sweet things with life have done;</p>
+<p>Sweet, till dawns the morning sun,</p>
+<p>Sleep then kiss those blue eyes dry!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Lullaby! O lullaby!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail042.png" width = "125" height = "54"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">43</span>
+<a name = "page43" id = "page43"> </a>
+<!-- png 092 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head043.png" width = "377" height = "167"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>F. W. BOURDILLON.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1852.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>LOVE’S MEINIE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">here</span>
+is no summer ere the swallows come,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Nor Love appears,</p>
+<p>Till Hope, Love’s light-winged herald, lifts the gloom</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Of years.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+There is no summer left when swallows fly,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And Love at last,</p>
+<p>When hopes which filled its heaven droop and die,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Is past.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">44</span>
+<a name = "page44" id = "page44"> </a>
+<!-- png 093 -->
+<h4>THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+night has a thousand eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the day but one;</p>
+<p>Yet the light of the bright world dies</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With the dying sun.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The mind has a thousand eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the heart but one;</p>
+<p>Yet the light of a whole life dies</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When love is done.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail015.png" width = "126" height = "52"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 094 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate44" id = "plate44"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp44.jpg" width = "369" height = "527"
+alt = "The night has a thousand eyes"
+title = "The night has a thousand eyes">
+</p>
+
+<!-- png 095 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">45</span>
+<a name = "page45" id = "page45"> </a>
+<!-- png 096 -->
+<h4>A LOST VOICE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;thousand</span>
+voices fill my ears</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All day until the light grows pale;</p>
+<p>But silence falls when night-time nears,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And where art thou, sweet nightingale?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Was that thine echo, faint and far?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Nay, all is hushed as heaven above;</p>
+<p>In earth no voice, in heaven no star,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And in my heart no dream of love.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail045.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">46</span>
+<a name = "page46" id = "page46"> </a>
+<!-- png 097 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head046.png" width = "376" height = "157"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ROBERT BUCHANAN.</h3>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SERENADE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">leep</span>
+sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Without here night is growing,</p>
+<p>The dead leaf falls, the dark boughs meet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And a chill wind is blowing.</p>
+<p>Strange shapes are stirring in the night,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To the deep breezes wailing,</p>
+<p>And slow, with wistful gleams of light,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The storm-tost moon is sailing.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fold thy white hands, my blossom!</p>
+<p>Thy warm limbs in thy lily sheet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thy hands upon thy bosom.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">47</span>
+<a name = "page47" id = "page47"> </a>
+<!-- png 098 -->
+<p>Though evil thoughts may walk the dark,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Not one shall near thy chamber;</p>
+<p>But shapes divine shall pause to mark,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Singing to lutes of amber.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Though, on thy bosom creeping,</p>
+<p>Strange hands are laid, to feel the beat</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of thy soft heart in sleeping.</p>
+<p>The brother angels, Sleep and Death,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Stop by thy couch and eye thee;</p>
+<p>And Sleep stoops down to drink thy breath,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">While Death goes softly by thee!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail047.png" width = "123" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">48</span>
+<a name = "page48" id = "page48"> </a>
+<!-- png 099 -->
+<h4>SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “LOVE IN WINTER.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap"><span class = "quotes">“</span>O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;Love</span>
+is like the roses,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And every rose shall fall,</p>
+<p>For sure as summer closes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They perish one and all.</p>
+<p>Then love, while leaves are on the tree,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And birds sing in the bowers:</p>
+<p>When winter comes, too late ’t will be</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To pluck the happy flowers.�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“O Love is like the roses,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Love comes, and Love must flee!</p>
+<p>Before the summer closes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Love’s rapture and Love’s glee!�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail012.png" width = "127" height = "57"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">49</span>
+<a name = "page49" id = "page49"> </a>
+<!-- png 100 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head049.png" width = "377" height = "107"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>MORTIMER COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1827-1876.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>TO F. C.</h4>
+
+<h5 class = "smallcaps">20th February 1875.</h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">F</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ast</span>
+falls the snow, O lady mine,</p>
+<p>Sprinkling the lawn with crystals fine,</p>
+<p>But by the gods we won’t repine</p>
+<p class = "inset3">While we ’re together,</p>
+<p>We ’ll chat and rhyme and kiss and dine,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Defying weather.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+So stir the fire and pour the wine,</p>
+<p>And let those sea-green eyes divine</p>
+<p>Pour their love-madness into mine:</p>
+<p class = "inset3">I don’t care whether</p>
+<p>’T is snow or sun or rain or shine</p>
+<p class = "inset3">If we ’re together.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 102 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate50" id = "plate50"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp50.jpg" width = "373" height = "525"
+alt = "A Game of Chess" title = "A Game of Chess">
+</p>
+
+<!-- png 103 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">50</span>
+<a name = "page50" id = "page50"> </a>
+<!-- png 101 -->
+<h4>A GAME OF CHESS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">errace</span>
+and lawn are white with frost,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Whose fretwork flowers upon the panes&mdash;</p>
+<p>A mocking dream of summer, lost</p>
+<p class = "inset3">’Mid winter’s icy chains.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+White-hot, indoors, the great logs gleam,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Veiled by a flickering flame of blue:</p>
+<p>I see my love as in a dream&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Her eyes are azure, too.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+She puts her hair behind her ears</p>
+<p class = "inset1">(Each little ear so like a shell),</p>
+<p>Touches her ivory Queen, and fears</p>
+<p class = "inset3">She is not playing well.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+For me, I think of nothing less:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I think how those pure pearls become her&mdash;</p>
+<p>And which is sweetest, winter chess</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or garden strolls in summer.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">51</span>
+<a name = "page51" id = "page51"> </a>
+<!-- png 104 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+O linger, frost, upon the pane!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O faint blue flame, still softly rise!</p>
+<p>O, dear one, thus with me remain,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">That I may watch thine eyes!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail025.png" width = "124" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">52</span>
+<a name = "page52" id = "page52"> </a>
+<!-- png 105 -->
+<h4>MULTUM IN PARVO.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;little</span>
+shadow makes the sunrise sad,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A little trouble checks the race of joy,</p>
+<p>A little agony may drive men mad,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A little madness may the soul destroy:</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Such is the world’s annoy.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ay, and the rose is but a little flower</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Which the red Queen of all the garden is:</p>
+<p>And Love, which lasteth but a little hour,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A moment’s rapture and a moment’s kiss,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Is what no man would miss.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">53</span>
+<a name = "page53" id = "page53"> </a>
+<!-- png 106 -->
+<h4>VIOLETS AT HOME.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;happy</span>
+buds of violet!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I give thee to my sweet, and she</p>
+<p>Puts them where something sweeter yet</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Must always be.</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>White violets find whiter rest:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For fairest flowers how fair a fate!</p>
+<p>For me remain, O fragrant breast!</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Inviolate.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">54</span>
+<a name = "page54" id = "page54"> </a>
+<!-- png 107 -->
+<h4>MY THRUSH.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ll</span>
+through the sultry hours of June,</p>
+<p>From morning blithe to golden noon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And till the star of evening climbs</p>
+<p>The gray-blue East, a world too soon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">There sings a Thrush amid the limes.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+God’s poet, hid in foliage green,</p>
+<p>Sings endless songs, himself unseen;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Right seldom come his silent times.</p>
+<p>Linger, ye summer hours serene!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes.</p>
+
+<p class = "dots">·······</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+May I not dream God sends thee there,</p>
+<p>Thou mellow angel of the air,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes</p>
+<p>With music’s soul, all praise and prayer?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is that thy lesson in the limes?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">55</span>
+<a name = "page55" id = "page55"> </a>
+<!-- png 108 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Closer to God art thou than I:</p>
+<p>His minstrel thou, whose brown wings fly</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Through silent æther’s sunnier climes.</p>
+<p>Ah, never may thy music die!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail055.png" width = "128" height = "68"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">56</span>
+<a name = "page56" id = "page56"> </a>
+<!-- png 109 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head056.png" width = "373" height = "119"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1826-1887.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>TOO LATE.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>“Dowglas, Dowglas, tendir and treu.�</i></h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">C</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ould</span>
+ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the old likeness that I knew,</p>
+<p>I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Never a scornful word should grieve ye,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I ’d smile on ye sweet as the angels do;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O to call back the days that are not!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My eyes were blinded, your words were few:</p>
+<p>Do you know the truth now up in heaven,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">57</span>
+<a name = "page57" id = "page57"> </a>
+<!-- png 110 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I never was worthy of you, Douglas;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Not half worthy the like of you:</p>
+<p>Now all men beside seem to me like shadows&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I love <i>you</i>, Douglas, tender and true.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;</p>
+<p>As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail057.png" width = "68" height = "41"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">58</span>
+<a name = "page58" id = "page58"> </a>
+<!-- png 111 -->
+<h4>A SILLY SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap"><span class = "quotes">“</span>O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;heart,</span>
+my heart!� she said, and heard</p>
+<p class = "inset3">His mate the blackbird calling,</p>
+<p>While through the sheen of the garden green</p>
+<p class = "inset3">May rain was softly falling,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Aye softly, softly falling.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The buttercups across the field</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Made sunshine rifts of splendour:</p>
+<p>The round snow-bud of the thorn in the wood</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Peeped through its leafage tender,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">As the rain came softly falling.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“O heart, my heart!� she said and smiled,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">“There ’s not a tree of the valley,</p>
+<p>Or a leaf I wis which the rain’s soft kiss</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Freshens in yonder alley,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Where the drops keep ever falling,&mdash;</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">59</span>
+<a name = "page59" id = "page59"> </a>
+<!-- png 112 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+“There ’s not a foolish flower i’ the grass,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or bird through the woodland calling,</p>
+<p>So glad again of the coming rain</p>
+<p class = "inset3">As I of these tears now falling,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">These happy tears down falling.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail059.png" width = "126" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">60</span>
+<a name = "page60" id = "page60"> </a>
+<!-- png 113 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head060.png" width = "376" height = "123"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>GEORGE DARLEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1795-1846.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>MAY DAY.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+<span class = "smallcaps">From “Sylvia�</span>:
+<i>Act III. Scene ii</i>.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;may,</span>
+thou art a merry time,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!</p>
+<p>When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And summer-flowers to sow the dale.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+When lasses and their lovers meet</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Beneath the early village-thorn,</p>
+<p>And to the sound of tabor sweet</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Bid welcome to the Maying-morn!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O May, thou art a merry time,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!</p>
+<p>When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And summer-flowers to sow the dale.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">61</span>
+<a name = "page61" id = "page61"> </a>
+<!-- png 114 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+When grey-beards and their gossips come</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With crutch in hand our sports to see,</p>
+<p>And both go tottering, tattling home,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Topful of wine as well as glee!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O May, thou art a merry time,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!</p>
+<p>When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And summer-flowers to sow the dale.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+But Youth was aye the time for bliss,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">So taste it, Shepherds! while ye may:</p>
+<p>For who can tell that joy like this</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Will come another holiday?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O May, thou art a merry time,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!</p>
+<p>When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And summer-flowers to sow the dale.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">62</span>
+<a name = "page62" id = "page62"> </a>
+<!-- png 115 -->
+<h4>I’VE BEEN ROAMING.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “LILIAN OF THE VALE.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;’ve</span>
+been roaming! I ’ve been roaming!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where the meadow dew is sweet,</p>
+<p>And like a queen I ’m coming</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With its pearls upon my feet.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve been roaming! I ’ve been roaming!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O’er red rose and lily fair,</p>
+<p>And like a sylph I ’m coming</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With their blossoms in my hair.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve been roaming! I ’ve been roaming!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where the honeysuckle creeps,</p>
+<p>And like a bee I ’m coming</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With its kisses on my lips.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve been roaming! I ’ve been roaming!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Over hill and over plain,</p>
+<p>And like a bird I ’m coming</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To my bower back again!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 116 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate62" id = "plate62"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp62.jpg" width = "365" height = "530"
+alt = "“I ’ve been roaming, I ’ve been roaming�"
+title = "“I ’ve been roaming, I ’ve been roaming�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 117 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">63</span>
+<a name = "page63" id = "page63"> </a>
+<!-- png 118 -->
+<h4>SYLVIA’S SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+streams that wind amid the hills</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And lost in pleasure slowly roam,</p>
+<p>While their deep joy the valley fills,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Even these will leave their mountain home;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">So may it, Love! with others be,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But I will never wend from thee.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The leaf forsakes the parent spray,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The blossom quits the stem as fast;</p>
+<p>The rose-enamour’d bird will stray</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And leave his eglantine at last:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">So may it, Love! with others be,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But I will never wend from thee.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">64</span>
+<a name = "page64" id = "page64"> </a>
+<!-- png 119 -->
+<h4>SERENADE.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+<span class = "smallcaps">From “Sylvia�:</span>
+<i>Act IV. Scene <ins class = "correction" title = "error for ‘i’?">I.</ins></i></span></h4>
+
+<h5 class = "smallcaps">Romanzo sings:</h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">wake</span>
+thee, my Lady-love!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wake thee, and rise!</p>
+<p>The sun through the bower peeps</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Into thine eyes!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Behold how the early lark</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Springs from the corn!</p>
+<p>Hark, hark how the flower-bird</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Winds her wee horn!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The swallow’s glad shriek is heard</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All through the air!</p>
+<p>The stock-dove is murmuring</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Loud as she dare!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Apollo’s winged bugleman</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Cannot contain,</p>
+<p>But peals his loud trumpet-call</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Once and again!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">65</span>
+<a name = "page65" id = "page65"> </a>
+<!-- png 120 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then wake thee, my Lady-love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Bird of my bower!</p>
+<p>The sweetest and sleepiest</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Bird at this hour!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail065.png" width = "187" height = "77"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">66</span>
+<a name = "page66" id = "page66"> </a>
+<!-- png 121 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head066.png" width = "376" height = "164"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>LORD DE TABLEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1835.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A WINTER SKETCH.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+the snow begins to feather,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the woods begin to roar</p>
+<p>Clashing angry boughs together,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As the breakers grind the shore</p>
+<p>Nature then a bankrupt goes,</p>
+<p>Full of wreck and full of woes.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+When the swan for warmer forelands</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Leaves the sea-firth’s icebound edge,</p>
+<p>When the gray geese from the morelands</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Cleave the clouds in noisy wedge,</p>
+<p>Woodlands stand in frozen chains,</p>
+<p>Hung with ropes of solid rains.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">67</span>
+<a name = "page67" id = "page67"> </a>
+<!-- png 122 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Shepherds creep to byre and haven,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sheep in drifts are nipped and numb;</p>
+<p>Some belated rook or raven</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Rocks upon a sign-post dumb;</p>
+<p>Mere-waves, solid as a clod,</p>
+<p>Roar with skaters, thunder-shod.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+All the roofs and chimneys rumble;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Roads are ridged with slush and sleet;</p>
+<p>Down the orchard apples tumble;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ploughboys stamp their frosty feet;</p>
+<p>Millers, jolted down the lanes,</p>
+<p>Hardly feel for cold their reins.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Snipes are calling from the trenches,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Frozen half and half at flow;</p>
+<p>In the porches servant wenches</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Work with shovels at the snow;</p>
+<p>Rusty blackbirds, weak of wing,</p>
+<p>Clean forget they once could sing.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Dogs and boys fetch down the cattle,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Deep in mire and powdered pale;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">68</span>
+<a name = "page68" id = "page68"> </a>
+<!-- png 123 -->
+<p>Spinning-wheels commence to rattle;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Landlords spice the smoking ale.</p>
+<p>Hail, white winter, lady fine,</p>
+<p>In a cup of elder wine!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail068.png" width = "123" height = "83"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">69</span>
+<a name = "page69" id = "page69"> </a>
+<!-- png 124 -->
+<h4>THE SECOND MADRIGAL.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">oo</span>
+thy lass while May is here;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Winter vows are colder.</p>
+<p>Have thy kiss when lips are near;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To-morrow you are older.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Think, if clear the throstle sing,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A month his note will thicken;</p>
+<p>A throat of gold in a golden spring</p>
+<p class = "inset1">At the edge of the snow will sicken.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Take thy cup and take thy girl,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">While they come for asking;</p>
+<p>In thy heyday melt the pearl</p>
+<p class = "inset1">At the love-ray basking.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ale is good for careless bards,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wine for wayworn sinners.</p>
+<p>They who hold the strongest cards</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Rise from life as winners.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">70</span>
+<a name = "page70" id = "page70"> </a>
+<!-- png 125 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head070.png" width = "376" height = "171"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>AUBREY DE VERE.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1788-1846.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap4">S</p>
+<p class = "inset2"><span class = "firstword">oftly,</span>
+O midnight Hours!</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Move softly o’er the bowers</p>
+<p>Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair!</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For ye have power, men say,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Our hearts in sleep to sway,</p>
+<p>And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Round ivory neck and arm</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Enclasp a separate charm:</p>
+<p>Hang o’er her poised; but breathe nor sigh nor prayer:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Silently ye may smile,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But hold your breath the while,</p>
+<p>And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">71</span>
+<a name = "page71" id = "page71"> </a>
+<!-- png 126 -->
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p class = "inset2">Bend down your glittering urns</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Ere yet the dawn returns,</p>
+<p>And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Upon the air rain balm;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Bid all the woods be calm;</p>
+<p>Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">That so the Maiden may</p>
+<p class = "inset2">With smiles your care repay</p>
+<p>When from her couch she lifts her golden head;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Waking with earliest birds,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Ere yet the misty herds</p>
+<p>Leave warm ’mid the grey grass their dusky bed.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail071.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">72</span>
+<a name = "page72" id = "page72"> </a>
+<!-- png 127 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">eek</span>
+not the tree of silkiest bark</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And balmiest bud,</p>
+<p>To carve her name&mdash;while yet ’t is dark&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Upon the wood!</p>
+<p>The world is full of noble tasks</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And wreaths hard-won:</p>
+<p>Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Till day is done.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sing not that violet-veinèd skin,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That cheek’s pale roses;</p>
+<p>The lily of that form wherein</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her soul reposes!</p>
+<p>Forth to the fight, true man, true knight!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The clash of arms</p>
+<p>Shall more prevail than whispered tale</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To win her charms.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">73</span>
+<a name = "page73" id = "page73"> </a>
+<!-- png 128 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+The warrior for the True, the Right,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Fights in Love’s name:</p>
+<p>The love that lures thee from that fight</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Lures thee to shame.</p>
+<p>That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The spirit free,&mdash;</p>
+<p>That love, or none, is fit for one,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Man-shaped like thee.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail037.png" width = "127" height = "79"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">74</span>
+<a name = "page74" id = "page74"> </a>
+<!-- png 129 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+I was young, I said to Sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“Come, and I will play with thee:�&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">He is near me now all day;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And at night returns to say,</p>
+<p>“I will come again to-morrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I will come and stay with thee.�</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>Through the woods we walk together;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">His soft footsteps rustle nigh me;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">To shield an unregarded head,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">He hath built a winter shed;</p>
+<p>And all night in rainy weather,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I hear his gentle breathings by me.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">75</span>
+<a name = "page75" id = "page75"> </a>
+<!-- png 130 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head075.png" width = "372" height = "138"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>CHARLES DICKENS.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1812-1870.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE IVY GREEN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">h,</span>
+a dainty plant is the Ivy green,</p>
+<p>That creepeth o’er ruins old!</p>
+<p>Of right choice food are his meals I ween,</p>
+<p>In his cell so lone and cold.</p>
+<p>The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,</p>
+<p>To pleasure his dainty whim:</p>
+<p>And the mouldering dust that years have made</p>
+<p>Is a merry meal for him.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Creeping where no life is seen,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">A rare old plant is the Ivy green.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,</p>
+<p>And a staunch old heart has he.</p>
+<p>How closely he twineth, how tight he clings,</p>
+<p>To his friend, the huge Oak tree!</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">76</span>
+<a name = "page76" id = "page76"> </a>
+<!-- png 131 -->
+<p>And slily he traileth along the ground,</p>
+<p>And his leaves he gently waves,</p>
+<p>As he joyously hugs and crawleth round</p>
+<p>The rich mould of dead men’s graves.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Creeping where grim death has been,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">A rare old plant is the Ivy green.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,</p>
+<p>And nations have scattered been;</p>
+<p>But the stout old Ivy shall never fade</p>
+<p>From its hale and hearty green.</p>
+<p>The brave old plant in its lonely days</p>
+<p>Shall fatten upon the past:</p>
+<p>For the stateliest building man can raise</p>
+<p>Is the Ivy’s food at last.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Creeping on, where time has been,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">A rare old plant is the Ivy green.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">77</span>
+<a name = "page77" id = "page77"> </a>
+<!-- png 132 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head077.png" width = "371" height = "170"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>AUSTIN DOBSON.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1840.</p>
+
+<h4>THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES’S.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN.</span></h4>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+ladies of St. James’s</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Go swinging to the play;</p>
+<p>Their footmen run before them,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With a “Stand by! Clear the way!�</p>
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She takes her buckled shoon,</p>
+<p>When we go out a-courting</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Beneath the harvest moon.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ladies of St. James’s</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wear satin on their backs;</p>
+<p>They sit all night at <i>Ombre</i>,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With candles all of wax:</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">78</span>
+<a name = "page78" id = "page78"> </a>
+<!-- png 133 -->
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She dons her russet gown,</p>
+<p>And runs to gather May dew</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Before the world is down.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ladies of St. James’s</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They are so fine and fair,</p>
+<p>You ’d think a box of essences</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was broken in the air:</p>
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The breath of heath and furze,</p>
+<p>When breezes blow at morning,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is scarce so fresh as hers.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ladies of St. James’s</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They ’re painted to the eyes;</p>
+<p>Their white it stays forever,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Their red it never dies:</p>
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her color comes and goes;</p>
+<p>It trembles to a lily,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">It wavers to a rose.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">79</span>
+<a name = "page79" id = "page79"> </a>
+<!-- png 134 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ladies of St. James’s,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With “Mercy!� and with “Lud!�</p>
+<p>They season all their speeches</p>
+<p class = "inset1">(They come of noble blood):</p>
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her shy and simple words</p>
+<p>Are sweet as, after rain-drops,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The music of the birds.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ladies of St. James’s,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They have their fits and freaks;</p>
+<p>They smile on you&mdash;for seconds,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They frown on you&mdash;for weeks:</p>
+<p>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Come either storm or shine,</p>
+<p>From Shrovetide unto Shrovetide</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is always true&mdash;and mine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+My Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I care not though they heap</p>
+<p>The hearts of all St. James’s,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And give me all to keep;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">80</span>
+<a name = "page80" id = "page80"> </a>
+<!-- png 135 -->
+<p>I care not whose the beauties</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of all the world may be,</p>
+<p>For Phyllida&mdash;for Phyllida</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is all the world to me!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail055.png" width = "128" height = "68"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 138 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate82" id = "plate82"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp82.jpg" width = "367" height = "525"
+alt = "“A maid I know,--and March winds blow�"
+title = "“A maid I know,--and March winds blow�">
+</p>
+
+<!-- png 139 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">81</span>
+<a name = "page81" id = "page81"> </a>
+<!-- png 136 -->
+<h4>THE MILKMAID.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">cross</span>
+the grass I see her pass;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She comes with tripping pace,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A maid I know,&mdash;and March winds blow</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her hair across her face;&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dolly shall be mine,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Before the spray is white with May,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or blooms the eglantine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The March winds blow. I watch her go:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her eye is brown and clear;</p>
+<p>Her cheek is brown and soft as down</p>
+<p class = "inset1">(To those who see it near!)&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dolly shall be mine,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Before the spray is white with May,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or blooms the eglantine.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">82</span>
+<a name = "page82" id = "page82"> </a>
+<!-- png 137 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+What has she not that they have got,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The dames that walk in silk!</p>
+<p>If she undo her ’kerchief blue,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her neck is white as milk.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dolly shall be mine,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Before the spray is white with May,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or blooms the eglantine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Let those who will be proud and chill!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For me, from June to June,</p>
+<p>My Dolly’s words are sweet as curds,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her laugh is like a tune;&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dolly shall be mine,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Before the spray is white with May,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or blooms the eglantine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Break, break to hear, O crocus-spear!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O tall Lent-lilies, flame!</p>
+<p>There ’ll be a bride at Easter-tide,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And Dolly is her name.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">83</span>
+<a name = "page83" id = "page83"> </a>
+<!-- png 140 -->
+<p class = "inset2">With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dolly shall be mine,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Before the spray is white with May,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Or blooms the eglantine.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail083.png" width = "127" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">84</span>
+<a name = "page84" id = "page84"> </a>
+<!-- png 141 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head084.png" width = "374" height = "139"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ALFRED DOMETT.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1811-1887.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A GLEE FOR WINTER.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">H</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ence,</span>
+rude Winter! crabbed old fellow,</p>
+<p>Never merry, never mellow!</p>
+<p>Well-a-day! in rain and snow</p>
+<p>What will keep one’s heart aglow?</p>
+<p>Groups of kinsmen, old and young,</p>
+<p>Oldest they old friends among!</p>
+<p>Groups of friends, so old and true,</p>
+<p>That they seem our kinsmen too!</p>
+<p>These all merry all together,</p>
+<p>Charm away chill Winter weather!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+What will kill this dull old fellow?</p>
+<p>Ale that ’s bright, and wine that ’s mellow!</p>
+<p>Dear old songs for ever new;</p>
+<p>Some true love, and laughter too;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">85</span>
+<a name = "page85" id = "page85"> </a>
+<!-- png 142 -->
+<p>Pleasant wit, and harmless fun,</p>
+<p>And a dance when day is done!</p>
+<p>Music&mdash;friends so true and tried&mdash;</p>
+<p>Whispered love by warm fireside&mdash;</p>
+<p>Mirth at all times all together&mdash;</p>
+<p>Make sweet May of Winter weather!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail045.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">86</span>
+<a name = "page86" id = "page86"> </a>
+<!-- png 143 -->
+
+<h4>A KISS.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SAPPHO TO PHAON.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p class = "inset1"><span class = "firstword">weet</span>
+mouth! O let me take</p>
+<p>One draught from that delicious cup!</p>
+<p>The hot Sahara-thirst to slake</p>
+<p class = "inset3">That burns me up!</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p class = "inset1">Sweet breath!&mdash;all flowers that are,</p>
+<p>Within that darling frame must bloom;</p>
+<p>My heart revives so at the rare</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Divine perfume!</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p class = "inset1">&mdash;Nay, ’t is a dear deceit,</p>
+<p>A drunkard’s cup that mouth of thine;</p>
+<p>Sure poison-flowers are breathing, sweet,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">That fragrance fine!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">87</span>
+<a name = "page87" id = "page87"> </a>
+<!-- png 144 -->
+<h5>IV.</h5>
+
+<p class = "inset1">I drank&mdash;the drink betrayed me</p>
+<p>Into a madder, fiercer fever;</p>
+<p>The scent of those love-blossoms made me</p>
+<p class = "inset3">More faint than ever!</p>
+
+<h5>V.</h5>
+
+<p class = "inset1">Yet though quick death it were</p>
+<p>That rich heart-vintage I must drain,</p>
+<p>And quaff that hidden garden’s air,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Again&mdash;again!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail040.png" width = "126" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">88</span>
+<a name = "page88" id = "page88"> </a>
+<!-- png 145 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head088.png" width = "374" height = "140"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>LADY DUFFERIN.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1807-1867.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SONG.<a class = "tag" name = "tagA" id = "tagA" href = "#noteA">*</a></h4>
+
+<h5 class = "smallcaps">April 30, 1833.</h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+another’s voice thou hearest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With a sad and gentle tone,</p>
+<p>Let its sound but waken, dearest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Memory of <i>my</i> love alone!</p>
+<p>When in stranger lands thou meetest</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Warm, true hearts, which welcome thee,</p>
+<p>Let each friendly look thou greetest</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Seem a message, Love, from <i>me</i>!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">89</span>
+<a name = "page89" id = "page89"> </a>
+<!-- png 146 -->
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>When night’s quiet sky is o’er thee,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When the pale stars dimly burn,</p>
+<p>Dream that <i>one</i> is watching for thee,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Who but lives for thy return!</p>
+<p>Wheresoe’er thy steps are roving,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Night or day, by land or sea,</p>
+<p>Think of her, whose life of loving</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is but one long thought of thee!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration tail">
+<img src = "images/tail042.png" width = "125" height = "54"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<p class = "footnote">
+<a name = "noteA" id = "noteA" href = "#tagA">* </a>
+These lines were written to the author’s husband, then at sea, in 1833,
+and set to music by herself.</p>
+
+<!-- png 148 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate90" id = "plate90"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp90.jpg" width = "370" height = "530"
+alt = "“That bright May morning long ago�"
+title = "“That bright May morning long ago�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 149 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">90</span>
+<a name = "page90" id = "page90"> </a>
+<!-- png 147 -->
+<h4>LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;’m</span>
+sitting on the stile, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where we sat, side by side,</p>
+<p>That bright May morning long ago</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When first you were my bride.</p>
+<p>The corn was springing fresh and green,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The lark sang loud and high,</p>
+<p>The red was on your lip, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The love-light in your eye.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The place is little changed, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The day is bright as then,</p>
+<p>The lark’s loud song is in my ear,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The corn is green again;</p>
+<p>But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Your breath warm on my cheek,</p>
+<p>And I still keep list’ning for the words</p>
+<p class = "inset1">You never more may speak.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">91</span>
+<a name = "page91" id = "page91"> </a>
+<!-- png 150 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+’T is but a step down yonder lane,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The little Church stands near&mdash;</p>
+<p>The Church where we were wed, Mary,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I see the spire from here;</p>
+<p>But the graveyard lies between, Mary,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My step might break your rest,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where you, my darling, lie asleep</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With your baby on your breast.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’m very lonely now, Mary,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The poor make no new friends;&mdash;</p>
+<p>But, oh! they love the better still</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The few our Father sends.</p>
+<p>And you were all I had, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My blessing and my pride;</p>
+<p>There ’s nothing left to care for now</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Since my poor Mary died.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Yours was the good brave heart, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That still kept hoping on,</p>
+<p>When trust in God had left my soul,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And half my strength was gone.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">92</span>
+<a name = "page92" id = "page92"> </a>
+<!-- png 151 -->
+<p>There was comfort ever on your lip,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the kind look on your brow.</p>
+<p>I bless you, Mary, for that same,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Though you can’t hear me now.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I thank you for the patient smile</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When your heart was fit to break;</p>
+<p>When the hunger pain was gnawing there</p>
+<p class = "inset1">You hid it for my sake.</p>
+<p>I bless you for the pleasant word</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When your heart was sad and sore.</p>
+<p>Oh! I ’m thankful you are gone, Mary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where grief can’t reach you more!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’m bidding you a long farewell,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My Mary&mdash;kind and true!</p>
+<p>But I ’ll not forget you, darling,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the land I ’m going to.</p>
+<p>They say there ’s bread and work for all,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the sun shines always there;</p>
+<p>But I ’ll not forget old Ireland,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Were it fifty times as fair.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">93</span>
+<a name = "page93" id = "page93"> </a>
+<!-- png 152 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+And when amid those grand old woods</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I sit and shut my eyes,</p>
+<p>My heart will travel back again</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To where my Mary lies;</p>
+<p>I ’ll think I see the little stile</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where we sat, side by side,&mdash;</p>
+<p>And the springing corn and bright May morn,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When first you were my bride.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail021.png" width = "121" height = "86"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">94</span>
+<a name = "page94" id = "page94"> </a>
+<!-- png 153 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head094.png" width = "375" height = "145"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>MICHAEL FIELD.</h3>
+
+<h4>WINDS TO-DAY ARE LARGE AND FREE.</h4>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">inds</span>
+to-day are large and free,</p>
+<p>Winds to-day are westerly;</p>
+<p>From the land they seem to blow</p>
+<p>Whence the sap begins to flow</p>
+<p>And the dimpled light to spread,</p>
+<p>From the country of the dead.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ah, it is a wild, sweet land</p>
+<p>Where the coming May is planned,</p>
+<p>Where such influences throb</p>
+<p>As our frosts can never rob</p>
+<p>Of their triumph, when they bound</p>
+<p>Through the tree and from the ground.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">95</span>
+<a name = "page95" id = "page95"> </a>
+<!-- png 154 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Great within me is my soul,</p>
+<p>Great to journey to its goal,</p>
+<p>To the country of the dead;</p>
+<p>For the cornel-tips are red,</p>
+<p>And a passion rich in strife</p>
+<p>Drives me toward the home of life.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Oh, to keep the spring with them</p>
+<p>Who have flushed the cornel-stem,</p>
+<p>Who imagine at its source</p>
+<p>All the year’s delicious course,</p>
+<p>Then express by wind and light</p>
+<p>Something of their rapture’s height!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail047.png" width = "123" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">96</span>
+<a name = "page96" id = "page96"> </a>
+<!-- png 155 -->
+<h4>LET US WREATHE THE MIGHTY CUP.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">et</span>
+us wreathe the mighty cup,</p>
+<p>Then with song we ’ll lift it up,</p>
+<p>And, before we drain the glow</p>
+<p>Of the juice that foams below</p>
+<p>Flowers and cool leaves round the brim,</p>
+<p>Let us swell the praise of him</p>
+<p>Who is tyrant of the heart,</p>
+<p>Cupid with his flaming dart!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Pride before his face is bowed,</p>
+<p>Strength and heedless beauty cowed;</p>
+<p>Underneath his fatal wings</p>
+<p>Bend discrowned the heads of kings;</p>
+<p>Maidens blanch beneath his eye</p>
+<p>And its laughing mastery;</p>
+<p>Through each land his arrows sound,</p>
+<p>By his fetters all are bound.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">97</span>
+<a name = "page97" id = "page97"> </a>
+<!-- png 156 -->
+<h4>WHERE WINDS ABOUND.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">here</span>
+winds abound,</p>
+<p>And fields are hilly,</p>
+<p>Shy daffadilly</p>
+<p>Looks down on the ground.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Rose cones of larch</p>
+<p>Are just beginning;</p>
+<p>Though oaks are spinning</p>
+<p>No oak-leaves in March.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Spring ’s at the core,</p>
+<p>The boughs are sappy:</p>
+<p>Good to be happy</p>
+<p>So long, long before!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail019.png" width = "117" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">98</span>
+<a name = "page98" id = "page98"> </a>
+<!-- png 157 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head098.png" width = "375" height = "161"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>NORMAN GALE.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1862.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">F</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">irst</span>
+the fine, faint, dreamy motion</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the tender blood</p>
+<p>Circling in the veins of children&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">This is Life, the bud.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Next the fresh, advancing beauty</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Growing from the gloom,</p>
+<p>Waking eyes and fuller bosom&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">This is Life, the bloom.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then the pain that follows after,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Grievous to be borne,</p>
+<p>Pricking, steeped in subtle poison&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">This is Love, the thorn.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">99</span>
+<a name = "page99" id = "page99"> </a>
+<!-- png 158 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ait</span>
+but a little while&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The bird will bring</p>
+<p>A heart in tune for melodies</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Unto the spring,</p>
+<p>Till he who ’s in the cedar there</p>
+<p>Is moved to trill a song so rare,</p>
+<p>And pipe her fair.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Wait but a little while&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The bud will break;</p>
+<p>The inner rose will ope and glow</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For summer’s sake;</p>
+<p>Fond bees will lodge within her breast</p>
+<p>Till she herself is plucked and prest</p>
+<p>Where I would rest.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Wait but a little while&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The maid will grow</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">100</span>
+<a name = "page100" id = "page100"> </a>
+<!-- png 159 -->
+<p>Gracious with lips and hands to thee,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With breast of snow.</p>
+<p>To-day Love ’s mute, but time hath sown</p>
+<p>A soul in her to match thine own,</p>
+<p>Though yet ungrown.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail100.png" width = "127" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">101</span>
+<a name = "page101" id = "page101"> </a>
+<!-- png 160 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head049.png" width = "377" height = "107"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>EDMUND GOSSE.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1849.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SONG FOR THE LUTE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;bring</span>
+a garland for your head</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of blossoms fresh and fair;</p>
+<p>My own hands wound their white and red</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To ring about your hair:</p>
+<p>Here is a lily, here a rose,</p>
+<p>A warm narcissus that scarce blows,</p>
+<p>And fairer blossoms no man knows.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+So crowned and chapleted with flowers,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I pray you be not proud;</p>
+<p>For after brief and summer hours</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Comes autumn with a shroud;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Though fragrant as a flower you lie,</p>
+<p>You and your garland, bye and bye,</p>
+<p>Will fade and wither up and die.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">102</span>
+<a name = "page102" id = "page102"> </a>
+<!-- png 161 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head102.png" width = "375" height = "177"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>THOMAS HOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1798-1845.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>BALLAD.</h4>
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">t</span>
+was not in the winter</p>
+<p>Our loving lot was cast;</p>
+<p>It was the time of roses,&mdash;</p>
+<p>We plucked them as we passed;</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>That churlish season never frowned</p>
+<p>On early lovers yet:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Oh, no&mdash;the world was newly crowned</p>
+<p>With flowers when first we met!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">103</span>
+<a name = "page103" id = "page103"> </a>
+<!-- png 162 -->
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>’T was twilight, and I bade you go,</p>
+<p>But still you held me fast;</p>
+<p>It was the time of roses,&mdash;</p>
+<p>We plucked them as we passed.&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail025.png" width = "124" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">104</span>
+<a name = "page104" id = "page104"> </a>
+<!-- png 163 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;Lady,</span>
+leave thy silken thread</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And flowery tapestrie:</p>
+<p>There ’s living roses on the bush,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And blossoms on the tree;</p>
+<p>Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Some random bud will meet;</p>
+<p>Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The daisy at thy feet.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+’T is like the birthday of the world,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When earth was born in bloom;</p>
+<p>The light is made of many dyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The air is all perfume;</p>
+<p>There ’s crimson buds, and white and blue&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The very rainbow showers</p>
+<p>Have turned to blossoms where they fell,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And sown the earth with flowers.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">105</span>
+<a name = "page105" id = "page105"> </a>
+<!-- png 164 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+There ’s fairy tulips in the east,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The garden of the sun;</p>
+<p>The very streams reflect the hues,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And blossom as they run:</p>
+<p>While Morn opes like a crimson rose,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Still wet with pearly showers;</p>
+<p>Then, Lady, leave the silken thread</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thou twinest into flowers!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail015.png" width = "126" height = "52"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 166 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate106" id = "plate106"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp106.jpg" width = "369" height = "549"
+alt = "“I remember, I remember�" title = "“I remember, I remember�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 167 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">106</span>
+<a name = "page106" id = "page106"> </a>
+<!-- png 165 -->
+<h4>I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;remember,</span>
+I remember,</p>
+<p>The house where I was born,</p>
+<p>The little window where the sun</p>
+<p>Came peeping in at morn;</p>
+<p>He never came a wink too soon,</p>
+<p>Nor brought too long a day,</p>
+<p>But now, I often wish the night</p>
+<p>Had borne my breath away!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I remember, I remember,</p>
+<p>The roses, red and white,</p>
+<p>The vi’lets, and the lily-cups,</p>
+<p>Those flowers made of light!</p>
+<p>The lilacs where the robin built,</p>
+<p>And where my brother set</p>
+<p>The laburnum on his birthday,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The tree is living yet!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">107</span>
+<a name = "page107" id = "page107"> </a>
+<!-- png 168 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I remember, I remember</p>
+<p>Where I was used to swing,</p>
+<p>And thought the air must rush as fresh</p>
+<p>To swallows on the wing;</p>
+<p>My spirit flew in feathers then,</p>
+<p>That is so heavy now,</p>
+<p>And summer pools could hardly cool</p>
+<p>The fever on my brow!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I remember, I remember</p>
+<p>The fir trees dark and high;</p>
+<p>I used to think their slender tops</p>
+<p>Were close against the sky:</p>
+<p>It was a childish ignorance,</p>
+<p>But now ’t is little joy</p>
+<p>To know I ’m farther off from heav’n</p>
+<p>Than when I was a boy.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">108</span>
+<a name = "page108" id = "page108"> </a>
+<!-- png 169 -->
+<h4>BALLAD.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+’s up and gone, the graceless Girl!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And robbed my failing years;</p>
+<p>My blood before was thin and cold</p>
+<p class = "inset1">But now ’t is turned to tears;&mdash;</p>
+<p>My shadow falls upon my grave,</p>
+<p> So near the brink I stand,</p>
+<p>She might have stayed a little yet,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And led me by the hand!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ay, call her on the barren moor,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And call her on the hill,</p>
+<p>’T is nothing but the heron’s cry,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And plover’s answer shrill;</p>
+<p>My child is flown on wilder wings,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Than they have ever spread,</p>
+<p>And I may even walk a waste</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That widened when she fled.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">109</span>
+<a name = "page109" id = "page109"> </a>
+<!-- png 170 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Full many a thankless child has been,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">But never one like mine;</p>
+<p>Her meat was served on plates of gold,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her drink was rosy wine;</p>
+<p>But now she ’ll share the robin’s food,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And sup the common rill,</p>
+<p>Before her feet will turn again</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To meet her father’s will!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail109.png" width = "131" height = "82"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">110</span>
+<a name = "page110" id = "page110"> </a>
+<!-- png 171 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+stars are with the voyager</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wherever he may sail;</p>
+<p>The moon is constant to her time;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The sun will never fail;</p>
+<p>But follow, follow round the world,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The green earth and the sea;</p>
+<p>So love is with the lover’s heart,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wherever he may be.</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>Wherever he may be, the stars</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Must daily lose their light;</p>
+<p>The moon will veil her in the shade;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The sun will set at night.</p>
+<p>The sun may set, but constant love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Will shine when he ’s away;</p>
+<p>So that dull night is never night,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And day is brighter day.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">111</span>
+<a name = "page111" id = "page111"> </a>
+<!-- png 172 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head111.png" width = "382" height = "138"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES<br>
+(LORD HOUGHTON).</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1809-1885.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE BROOKSIDE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;wandered</span>
+by the brook-side,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I wandered by the mill,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I could not hear the brook flow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The noisy wheel was still;</p>
+<p>There was no burr of grasshopper,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">No chirp of any bird,</p>
+<p>But the beating of my own heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was all the sound I heard.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I sat beside the elm-tree,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I watched the long, long, shade,</p>
+<p>And as it grew still longer,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I did not feel afraid;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">112</span>
+<a name = "page112" id = "page112"> </a>
+<!-- png 173 -->
+<p>For I listened for a footfall,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I listened for a word,&mdash;</p>
+<p>But the beating of my own heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was all the sound I heard.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+He came not,&mdash;no, he came not,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The night came on alone,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The little stars sat one by one,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Each on his golden throne;</p>
+<p>The evening air passed by my cheek,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The leaves above were stirred,&mdash;</p>
+<p>But the beating of my own heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was all the sound I heard.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Fast silent tears were flowing,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When something stood behind,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A hand was on my shoulder,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I knew its touch was kind:</p>
+<p>It drew me nearer&mdash;nearer,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We did not speak one word,</p>
+<p>For the beating of our own hearts</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was all the sound we heard.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 174 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate112" id = "plate112"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp112.jpg" width = "374" height = "552"
+alt = "I wandered by the brook-side"
+title = "I wandered by the brook-side">
+</p>
+<!-- png 175 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">113</span>
+<a name = "page113" id = "page113"> </a>
+<!-- png 176 -->
+<h4>THE VENETIAN SERENADE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+along the light ripple the far serenade</p>
+<p>Has accosted the ear of each passionate maid,</p>
+<p>She may open the window that looks on the stream,&mdash;</p>
+<p>She may smile on her pillow and blend it in dream;</p>
+<p>Half in words, half in music, it pierces the gloom,</p>
+<p>“I am coming&mdash;Stalì<a class = "tag" name = "tagB" id = "tagB"
+href = "#noteB">*</a>&mdash;but you know not for whom!</p>
+<p class = "inset7">Stalì&mdash;not for whom!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Now the tones become clearer,&mdash;you hear more and more</p>
+<p>How the water divided returns on the oar,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Does the prow of the Gondola strike on the stair?</p>
+<p>Do the voices and instruments pause and prepare?</p>
+<p>Oh! they faint on the ear as the lamp on the view,</p>
+<p>“I am passing&mdash;Premì&mdash;but I stay not for you!</p>
+<p class = "inset7">Premì&mdash;not for you!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then return to your couch, you who stifle a tear,</p>
+<p>Then awake not, fair sleeper&mdash;believe he is here;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">114</span>
+<a name = "page114" id = "page114"> </a>
+<!-- png 177 -->
+<p>For the young and the loving no sorrow endures,</p>
+<p>If to-day be another’s,&mdash;to-morrow is yours;</p>
+<p>May, the next time you listen, your fancy be true,</p>
+<p>“I am coming&mdash;Sciàr&mdash;and for you and to you!</p>
+<p class = "inset7">Sciàr&mdash;and to you!�</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration tail">
+<img src = "images/tail114.png" width = "118" height = "95"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<p class = "footnote">
+<a name = "noteB" id = "noteB" href = "#tagB">* </a>
+The words here used are the calls of the gondoliers, indicating the
+direction they are rowing. “Sciàr� is to stop the boat.</p>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">115</span>
+<a name = "page115" id = "page115"> </a>
+<!-- png 178 -->
+<h4>FROM LOVE AND NATURE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+Sun came through the frosty mist</p>
+<p>Most like a dead-white moon;</p>
+<p>Thy soothing tones I seemed to list,</p>
+<p>As voices in a swoon.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Still as an island stood our ship,</p>
+<p>The waters gave no sound,</p>
+<p>But when I touched thy quivering lip</p>
+<p>I felt the world go round.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+We seemed the only sentient things</p>
+<p>Upon that silent sea:</p>
+<p>Our hearts the only living springs</p>
+<p>Of all that yet could be!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">116</span>
+<a name = "page116" id = "page116"> </a>
+<!-- png 179 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head116.png" width = "373" height = "151"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>JEAN INGELOW.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1830.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE LONG WHITE SEAM<ins class = "correction"
+title = ". missing">.&nbsp;</ins></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">s</span>
+I came round the harbor buoy,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The lights began to gleam,</p>
+<p>No wave the land-locked water stirred,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The crags were white as cream;</p>
+<p>And I marked my love by candle-light</p>
+<p> Sewing her long white seam.</p>
+<p class = "inset1"> It ’s aye sewing ashore, my dear,</p>
+<p class = "inset2"> Watch and steer at sea,</p>
+<p class = "inset1"> It ’s reef and furl, and haul the line,</p>
+<p class = "inset2"> Set sail and think of thee.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I climbed to reach her cottage door;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O sweetly my love sings!</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">117</span>
+<a name = "page117" id = "page117"> </a>
+<!-- png 180 -->
+<p>Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My soul to meet it springs</p>
+<p>As the shining water leaped of old,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When stirred by angel wings.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Aye longing to list anew,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Awake and in my dream,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But never a song she sang like this,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Sewing her long white seam.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That brought me in to thee,</p>
+<p>And peace drop down on that low roof</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For the sight that I did see,</p>
+<p>And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All for the love of me.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For O, for O, with brows bent low</p>
+<p class = "inset3">By the candle’s flickering gleam,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Her wedding gown it was she wrought,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Sewing the long white seam.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">118</span>
+<a name = "page118" id = "page118"> </a>
+<!-- png 181 -->
+<h4>LOVE.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “SONGS OF SEVEN.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;leaned</span>
+out of window, I smelt the white clover,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;</p>
+<p>“Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hush, nightingale, hush! O, sweet nightingale, wait</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Till I listen and hear</p>
+<p class = "inset3">If a step draweth near,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">For my love he is late!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree,</p>
+<p>The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see?</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Let the star-clusters grow,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Let the sweet waters flow,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And cross quickly to me.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“You night moths that hover where honey brims over</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">119</span>
+<a name = "page119" id = "page119"> </a>
+<!-- png 182 -->
+<p>You glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To him that comes darkling along the rough steep.</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Ah, my sailor, make haste,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">For the time runs to waste,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And my love lieth deep&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+“Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I ’ve conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night.�</p>
+<p>By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">But I ’ll love him more, more</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Than e’er wife loved before,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Be the days dark or bright.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail119.png" width = "123" height = "84"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">120</span>
+<a name = "page120" id = "page120"> </a>
+<!-- png 183 -->
+<h4>SWEET IS CHILDHOOD.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">weet</span>
+is childhood&mdash;childhood ’s over,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Kiss and part.</p>
+<p>Sweet is youth; but youth ’s a rover&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">So ’s my heart.</p>
+<p>Sweet is rest; but by all showing</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Toil is nigh.</p>
+<p>We must go. Alas! the going,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Say “good-bye.�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail120.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">121</span>
+<a name = "page121" id = "page121"> </a>
+<!-- png 184 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head121.png" width = "377" height = "152"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>CHARLES KINGSLEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1819-1875.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>AIRLY BEACON.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">irly</span>
+Beacon, Airly Beacon;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Oh the pleasant sight to see</p>
+<p>Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">While my love climbed up to me!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Oh the happy hours we lay</p>
+<p>Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Courting through the summer’s day!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Oh the weary haunt for me,</p>
+<p>All alone on Airly Beacon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With his baby on my knee!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">122</span>
+<a name = "page122" id = "page122"> </a>
+<!-- png 185 -->
+<h4>THE SANDS OF DEE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap1"><span class = "quotes">“</span>O</p>
+<p class = "inset2"><span class = "firstword">h,</span>
+Mary, go and call the cattle home,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">And call the cattle home,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">And call the cattle home</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Across the sands of Dee;�</p>
+<p>The western wind was wild and dark with foam,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And all alone went she.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+The western tide crept up along the sand,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">And o’er and o’er the sand,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">And round and round the sand,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">As far as eye could see.</p>
+<p>The rolling mist came down and hid the land:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And never home came she.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+“Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset4">A tress of golden hair,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">A drownèd maiden’s hair</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Above the nets at sea?�</p>
+<p>Was never salmon yet that shone so fair</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Among the stakes on Dee.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">123</span>
+<a name = "page123" id = "page123"> </a>
+<!-- png 186 -->
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+They rowed her in across the rolling foam,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">The cruel crawling foam,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">The cruel hungry foam,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">To her grave beside the sea:</p>
+<p>But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Across the sands of Dee.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail100.png" width = "127" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 188 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate124" id = "plate124"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp124.jpg" width = "370" height = "555"
+alt = "“Three fishers went sailing away to the West�"
+title = "“Three fishers went sailing away to the West�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 189 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">124</span>
+<a name = "page124" id = "page124"> </a>
+<!-- png 187 -->
+<h4>THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hree</span>
+fishers went sailing away to the West,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Away to the West as the sun went down;</p>
+<p>Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the children stood watching them out of the town;</p>
+<p>For men must work, and women must weep,</p>
+<p>And there ’s little to earn, and many to keep,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Though the harbor bar be moaning.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;</p>
+<p>They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.</p>
+<p>But men must work, and women must weep,</p>
+<p>Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the harbor bar be moaning.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">125</span>
+<a name = "page125" id = "page125"> </a>
+<!-- png 190 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Three corpses lay out on the shining sands</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the morning gleam as the tide went down,</p>
+<p>And the women are weeping and wringing their hands</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For those who will never come home to the town;</p>
+<p>For men must work, and women must weep,</p>
+<p>And the sooner it ’s over, the sooner to sleep;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail037.png" width = "127" height = "79"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">126</span>
+<a name = "page126" id = "page126"> </a>
+<!-- png 191 -->
+
+<h4>A FAREWELL.<br>
+<span class = "subhead smallcaps">To C. E. G.&mdash;1856.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">y</span>
+fairest child, I have no song to give you;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;</p>
+<p>Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I ’ll leave you,</p>
+<p class = "inset5">For every day.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ll tell you how to sing a clearer carol</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Than lark who hails the dawn of breezy down;</p>
+<p>To earn yourself a purer poet’s laurel</p>
+<p class = "inset5">Than Shakespeare’s crown.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long;</p>
+<p>And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever,</p>
+<p class = "inset5">One grand sweet song.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">127</span>
+<a name = "page127" id = "page127"> </a>
+<!-- png 192 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head022.png" width = "379" height = "163"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1775-1864.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>ROSE AYLMER.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">h,</span>
+what avails the sceptered race!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ah, what the form divine!</p>
+<p>What every virtue, every grace!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Rose Aylmer, all were thine.</p>
+<p>Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">May weep, but never see,</p>
+<p>A night of memories and of sighs</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I consecrate to thee.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">128</span>
+<a name = "page128" id = "page128"> </a>
+<!-- png 193 -->
+<h4>RUBIES.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ften</span>
+I have heard it said</p>
+<p>That her lips are ruby-red.</p>
+<p>Little heed I what they say,</p>
+<p>I have seen as red as they.</p>
+<p>Ere she smiled on other men,</p>
+<p>Real rubies were they then.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+When she kissed me once in play,</p>
+<p>Rubies were less bright than they,</p>
+<p>And less bright were those which shone</p>
+<p>In the palace of the Sun.</p>
+<p>Will they be as bright again?</p>
+<p>Not if kissed by other men.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail068.png" width = "123" height = "83"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">129</span>
+<a name = "page129" id = "page129"> </a>
+<!-- png 194 -->
+<h4>THE FAULT IS NOT MINE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+fault is not mine if I love you too much,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I loved you too little too long,</p>
+<p>Such ever your graces, your tenderness such,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the music the heart gave the tongue.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+A time is now coming when Love must be gone,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Tho’ he never abandoned me yet.</p>
+<p>Acknowledge our friendship, our passion disown,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Our follies (ah can you?) forget.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail045.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">130</span>
+<a name = "page130" id = "page130"> </a>
+<!-- png 195 -->
+<h4>UNDER THE LINDENS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">U</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">nder</span>
+the lindens lately sat</p>
+<p>A couple, and no more, in chat;</p>
+<p>I wondered what they would be at</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Under the lindens.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I saw four eyes and four lips meet,</p>
+<p>I heard the words, <i>“How sweet! how sweet!�</i></p>
+<p>Had then the Faeries given a treat</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Under the lindens?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I pondered long and could not tell</p>
+<p>What dainty pleased them both so well:</p>
+<p>Bees! bees! was it your hydromel</p>
+<p class = "inset6"> Under the lindens?</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail130.png" width = "127" height = "39"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">131</span>
+<a name = "page131" id = "page131"> </a>
+<!-- png 196 -->
+<h4>SIXTEEN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">n</span>
+Clementina’s artless mien</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Lucilla asks me what I see,&mdash;</p>
+<p>And are the roses of sixteen</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Enough for me?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Lucilla asks, if that be all,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Have I not culled as sweet before?</p>
+<p>Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall</p>
+<p class = "inset4">I still deplore.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I now behold another scene,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Where Pleasure beams with heaven’s own light,&mdash;</p>
+<p>More pure, more constant, more serene,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">And not less bright:</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,</p>
+<p>And Modesty, who, when she goes,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Is gone forever!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">132</span>
+<a name = "page132" id = "page132"> </a>
+<!-- png 197 -->
+<h4>IANTHE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hank</span>
+Heaven, Ianthe, once again</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Our hands and ardent lips shall meet,</p>
+<p>And Pleasure, to assert his reign,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Scatter ten thousand kisses sweet:</p>
+<p>Then cease repeating while you mourn,</p>
+<p>“I wonder when he will return.�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ah wherefore should you so admire</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The flowing words that fill my song,</p>
+<p>Why call them artless, yet require</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“Some promise from that tuneful tongue?�</p>
+<p>I doubt if heaven itself could part</p>
+<p>A tuneful tongue and tender heart.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail012.png" width = "127" height = "57"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 198 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate132" id = "plate132"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp132.jpg" width = "372" height = "535"
+alt = "Ianthe" title = "Ianthe">
+</p>
+<!-- png 199 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">133</span>
+<a name = "page133" id = "page133"> </a>
+<!-- png 200 -->
+<h4>ONE LOVELY NAME.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ne</span>
+lovely name adorns my song,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And, dwelling in the heart,</p>
+<p>For ever falters at the tongue,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And trembles to depart.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>FORSAKEN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">other,</span>
+I can not mind my wheel;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My fingers ache, my lips are dry;</p>
+<p>Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">But oh, who ever felt as I!</p>
+<p>No longer could I doubt him true,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All other men may use deceit;</p>
+<p>He always said my eyes were blue,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And often swore my lips were sweet.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">134</span>
+<a name = "page134" id = "page134"> </a>
+<!-- png 201 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head018.png" width = "377" height = "171"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1821-1895.</p>
+
+<h4>A GARDEN LYRIC.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>The flow of life is yet a rill</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That laughs, and leaps, and glistens;</p>
+<p>And still the woodland rings, and still</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The old Damœtas listens.</p>
+</div>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">e</span>
+have loiter’d and laugh’d in the flowery croft,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We have met under wintry skies;</p>
+<p>Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is the light in her gentle eyes;</p>
+<p>It is bliss in the silent woods, among</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Gay crowds, or in any place</p>
+<p>To hear her voice, to gaze on her young</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Confiding face.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">135</span>
+<a name = "page135" id = "page135"> </a>
+<!-- png 202 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+For ever may roses divinely blow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And wine-dark pansies charm</p>
+<p>By the prim box path where I felt the glow</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of her dimpled, trusting arm,</p>
+<p>And the sweep of her silk as she turned and smiled</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A smile as pure as her pearls;</p>
+<p>The breeze was in love with the darling Child,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">As it moved her curls.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+She showed me her ferns and woodbine-sprays,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Foxglove and jasmine stars,</p>
+<p>A mist of blue in the beds, a blaze</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of red in the celadon jars:</p>
+<p>And velvety bees in convolvulus bells,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And roses of bountiful June&mdash;</p>
+<p>Oh, who would think their summer spells</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Could die so soon!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+For a glad song came from the milking shed,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On a wind of the summer south,</p>
+<p>And the green was golden above her head,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And a sunbeam kiss’d her mouth;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">136</span>
+<a name = "page136" id = "page136"> </a>
+<!-- png 203 -->
+<p>Sweet were the lips where that sunbeam dwelt;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the wings of Time were fleet</p>
+<p>As I gazed; and neither spoke, for we felt</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Life was so sweet!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+And the odorous limes were dim above</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As we leant on a drooping bough;</p>
+<p>And the darkling air was a breath of love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And a witching thrush sang “Now!�</p>
+<p>For the sun dropt low, and the twilight grew</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As we listen’d and sigh’d, and leant;</p>
+<p>That day was the sweetest day&mdash;and we knew</p>
+<p class = "inset3">What the sweetness meant.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail015.png" width = "126" height = "52"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">137</span>
+<a name = "page137" id = "page137"> </a>
+<!-- png 204 -->
+<h4>THE CUCKOO<ins class = "correction"
+title = "text has , for .">. </ins></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">e</span>
+heard it calling, clear and low,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">That tender April morn; we stood</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And listened in the quiet wood,</p>
+<p>We heard it, ay, long years ago.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It came, and with a strange, sweet cry,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">A friend, but from a far-off land;</p>
+<p class = "inset2">We stood and listened, hand in hand,</p>
+<p>And heart to heart, my Love and I.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+In dreamland then we found our joy,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And so it seemed as ’t were the Bird</p>
+<p class = "inset2">That Helen in old times had heard</p>
+<p>At noon beneath the oaks of Troy.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O time far off, and yet so near!</p>
+<p class = "inset2">It came to her in that hush’d grove,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">It warbled while the wooing throve,</p>
+<p>It sang the song she loved to hear.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">138</span>
+<a name = "page138" id = "page138"> </a>
+<!-- png 205 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+And now I hear its voice again,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And still its message is of peace,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">It sings of love that will not cease&mdash;</p>
+<p>For me it never sings in vain.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail025.png" width = "124" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">139</span>
+<a name = "page139" id = "page139"> </a>
+<!-- png 206 -->
+<h4>GERTRUDE’S NECKLACE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">s</span>
+Gertrude skipt from babe to girl,</p>
+<p>Her Necklace lengthen’d, pearl by pearl;</p>
+<p>Year after year it grew, and grew,</p>
+<p>For every birthday gave her two.</p>
+<p>Her neck is lovely,&mdash;soft and fair,</p>
+<p>And now her Necklace glimmers there.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+So cradled, let it fall and rise,</p>
+<p>And all her graces symbolize.</p>
+<p>Perchance this pearl, without a speck,</p>
+<p>Once was as warm on Sappho’s neck;</p>
+<p>Where are the happy, twilight pearls</p>
+<p>That braided Beatrice’s curls?</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Is Gerty loved? Is Gerty loth?</p>
+<p>Or, if she ’s either, is she both?</p>
+<p>She ’s fancy free, but sweeter far</p>
+<p>Than many plighted maidens are:</p>
+<p>Will Gerty smile us all away,</p>
+<p>And still be Gerty? Who can say?</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">140</span>
+<a name = "page140" id = "page140"> </a>
+<!-- png 207 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+But let her wear her Precious Toy,</p>
+<p>And I ’ll rejoice to see her joy:</p>
+<p>Her bauble ’s only one degree</p>
+<p>Less frail, less fugitive than we,</p>
+<p>For time, ere long, will snap the skein,</p>
+<p>And scatter all her Pearls again.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail021.png" width = "121" height = "86"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<!-- png 208 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate140" id = "plate140"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp140.jpg" width = "372" height = "520"
+alt = "Gertrude’s Necklace" title = "Gertrude’s Necklace">
+</p>
+<!-- png 209 -->
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">141</span>
+<a name = "page141" id = "page141"> </a>
+<!-- png 210 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head039.png" width = "372" height = "158"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>SAMUEL LOVER.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1797-1868.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE ANGEL’S WHISPER.<a class = "tag" name = "tagC" id = "tagC" href = "#noteC">*</a></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap1">A</p>
+<p class = "inset3"><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;baby</span>
+was sleeping,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Its mother was weeping,</p>
+<p>For the husband was far on the wild raging Sea;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And the tempest was swelling</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Round the fisherman’s dwelling;</p>
+<p>And she cried, “Dermot darling, oh come back to me!�</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+Her beads while she numbered,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">The baby still slumbered,</p>
+<p>And smiled in her face as she bended her knee;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">142</span>
+<a name = "page142" id = "page142"> </a>
+<!-- png 211 -->
+<p class = "inset3">“O blest be that warning,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">My child thy sleep adorning,</p>
+<p>For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+“And while they are keeping</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Bright watch o’er thy sleeping,</p>
+<p>Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And say thou wouldst rather</p>
+<p class = "inset3">They ’d watch o’er thy father;</p>
+<p>For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!�</p>
+
+<p class = "inset3 stanza">
+The dawn of the morning</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Saw Dermot returning,</p>
+<p>And the wife wept with joy her babe’s father to see;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And closely caressing</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Her child, with a blessing,</p>
+<p>Said, “I knew that the angels were whispering with thee!�</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "footnote">
+<a name = "noteC" id = "noteC" href = "#tagC">* </a>
+A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland that when a child
+smiles in its sleep it is “talking with angels.�</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">143</span>
+<a name = "page143" id = "page143"> </a>
+<!-- png 212 -->
+<h4>WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE?</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap"><span class = "quotes">“</span>W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hat</span>
+will you do, love, when I am going</p>
+<p>With white sail flowing,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">The seas beyond&mdash;</p>
+<p>What will you do, love, when waves divide us,</p>
+<p>And friends may chide us</p>
+<p class = "inset4">For being fond?�</p>
+<p>“Tho’ waves divide us&mdash;and friends be chiding,</p>
+<p>In faith abiding,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">I ’ll still be true!</p>
+<p>And I ’ll pray for thee on the stormy ocean,</p>
+<p>In deep devotion&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset4">That ’s what I ’ll do!�</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>“What would you do, love, if distant tidings</p>
+<p>Thy fond confidings</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Should undermine?&mdash;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">144</span>
+<a name = "page144" id = "page144"> </a>
+<!-- png 213 -->
+<p>And I abiding ’neath sultry skies,</p>
+<p>Should think other eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Were as bright as thine?�</p>
+<p>“Oh, name it not:&mdash;tho’ guilt and shame</p>
+<p>Were on thy name</p>
+<p class = "inset4">I ’d still be true:</p>
+<p>But that heart of thine&mdash;should another share it&mdash;</p>
+<p>I could not bear it!</p>
+<p class = "inset4">What would I do?�</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>“What would you do, love, when home returning</p>
+<p>With hopes high burning,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">With wealth for you,</p>
+<p>If my bark, which bounded o’er foreign foam,</p>
+<p>Should be lost near home&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Ah! what would you do?�&mdash;</p>
+<p>“So thou wert spared&mdash;I ’d bless the morrow,</p>
+<p>In want and sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">That left me you;</p>
+<p>And I ’d welcome thee from the wasting billow,</p>
+<p>This heart thy pillow&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset4">That ’s what I ’d do!�</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">145</span>
+<a name = "page145" id = "page145"> </a>
+<!-- png 214 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head026.png" width = "375" height = "167"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>CHARLES MACKAY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1814-1889.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>I LOVE MY LOVE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hat</span>
+is the meaning of the song</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That rings so clear and loud,</p>
+<p>Thou nightingale amid the copse&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Thou lark above the cloud?</p>
+<p>What says the song, thou joyous thrush,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Up in the walnut-tree?</p>
+<p>“I love my Love, because I know</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My Love loves me.�</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>What is the meaning of thy thought,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O maiden fair and young?</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">146</span>
+<a name = "page146" id = "page146"> </a>
+<!-- png 215 -->
+<p>There is such pleasure in thine eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Such music on thy tongue;</p>
+<p>There is such glory on thy face&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What can the meaning be?</p>
+<p>“I love my Love, because I know</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My Love loves me.�</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>O happy words! at Beauty’s feet</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We sing them ere our prime;</p>
+<p>And when the early summers pass,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And Care comes on with Time,</p>
+<p>Still be it ours, in Care’s despite,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To join the chorus free&mdash;</p>
+<p>“I love my Love, because I know</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My Love loves me.�</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">147</span>
+<a name = "page147" id = "page147"> </a>
+<!-- png 216 -->
+<h4>O YE TEARS!</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;ye</span>
+tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,</p>
+<p>Ye are welcome to my heart,&mdash;thawing, thawing, like the snow;</p>
+<p>I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snow-drop spring,</p>
+<p>And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run;</p>
+<p>Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun.</p>
+<p>The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,</p>
+<p>And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek,</p>
+<p>I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">148</span>
+<a name = "page148" id = "page148"> </a>
+<!-- png 217 -->
+<p>Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,</p>
+<p>And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain:</p>
+<p>The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again;</p>
+<p>Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb’s burning sand,</p>
+<p>It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my heart,</p>
+<p>And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart.</p>
+<p>Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago&mdash;</p>
+<p>O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">149</span>
+<a name = "page149" id = "page149"> </a>
+<!-- png 218 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head009.png" width = "381" height = "150"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>FRANCIS MAHONEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1805-1866.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+<h4>THE BELLS OF SHANDON.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse header">
+<p>Sabbata pango;</p>
+<p>Funera plango;</p>
+<p>Solemnia clango.</p>
+
+<p class = "right">&mdash;<i>Inscription on an old bell.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ith</span>
+deep affection</p>
+<p>And recollection</p>
+<p>I often think of</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Those Shandon bells,</p>
+<p>Whose sounds so wild would,</p>
+<p>In the days of childhood,</p>
+<p>Fling round my cradle</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Their magic spells.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+On this I ponder</p>
+<p>Where’er I wander,</p>
+<p>And thus grow fonder,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sweet Cork, of thee,&mdash;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">150</span>
+<a name = "page150" id = "page150"> </a>
+<!-- png 219 -->
+<p>With thy bells of Shandon,</p>
+<p>That sound so grand on</p>
+<p>The pleasant waters</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the river Lee.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve heard bells chiming</p>
+<p>Full many a clime in,</p>
+<p>Tolling sublime in</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Cathedral shrine,</p>
+<p>While at a glibe rate</p>
+<p>Brass tongues would vibrate;</p>
+<p>But all their music</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Spoke naught like thine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+For memory, dwelling</p>
+<p>On each proud swelling</p>
+<p>Of thy belfry, knelling</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Its bold notes free,</p>
+<p>Made the bells of Shandon</p>
+<p>Sound far more grand on</p>
+<p>The pleasant waters</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the river Lee.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">151</span>
+<a name = "page151" id = "page151"> </a>
+<!-- png 220 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve heard bells tolling</p>
+<p>Old Adrian’s Mole in,</p>
+<p>Their thunder rolling</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From the Vatican,&mdash;</p>
+<p>And cymbals glorious</p>
+<p>Swinging uproarious</p>
+<p>In the gorgeous turrets</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of Notre Dame;</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+But thy sounds were sweeter</p>
+<p>Than the dome of Peter</p>
+<p>Flings o’er the Tiber,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Pealing solemnly.</p>
+<p>Oh! the bells of Shandon</p>
+<p>Sound far more grand on</p>
+<p>The pleasant waters</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the river Lee.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+There ’s a bell in Moscow;</p>
+<p>While on tower and kiosk O</p>
+<p>In St. Sophia</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The Turkman gets,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">152</span>
+<a name = "page152" id = "page152"> </a>
+<!-- png 221 -->
+<p>And loud in air</p>
+<p>Calls men to prayer,</p>
+<p>From the tapering summit</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of tall minarets.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Such empty phantom</p>
+<p>I freely grant them;</p>
+<p>But there ’s an anthem</p>
+<p class = "inset1">More dear to me,&mdash;</p>
+<p>’T is the bells of Shandon,</p>
+<p>That sound so grand on</p>
+<p>The pleasant waters</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of the river Lee.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail017.png" width = "127" height = "66"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">153</span>
+<a name = "page153" id = "page153"> </a>
+<!-- png 222 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head030.png" width = "376" height = "174"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>GERALD MASSEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1828.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ll</span>
+glorious as the Rainbow’s birth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She came in Spring-tide’s golden hours;</p>
+<p>When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And May was crowned with buds and flowers!</p>
+<p>The mounting devil at my heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Clomb faintlier as my life did win</p>
+<p>The charmèd heaven, she wrought apart,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To wake its slumbering Angel in!</p>
+<p>With radiant mien she trod serene,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And passed me smiling by!</p>
+<p>O! who that looked could chance but love?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Not I, sweet soul, not I.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">154</span>
+<a name = "page154" id = "page154"> </a>
+<!-- png 223 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+The dewy eyelids of the Dawn</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ne’er oped such heaven as hers can show:</p>
+<p>It seemed her dear eyes might have shone</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As jewels in some starry brow.</p>
+<p>Her face flashed glory like a shrine,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;</p>
+<p>Where came and went love-thoughts divine,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As low winds walk the leaves in light:</p>
+<p>She wore her beauty with the grace</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of Summer’s star-clad sky;</p>
+<p>O! who that looked could help but love?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Not I, sweet soul, not I.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of love were ripening to be pressed:</p>
+<p>Her voice, that shook my heart’s red root,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Yet might not break a babe’s soft rest!</p>
+<p>More liquid than the running brooks,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">More vernal than the voice of Spring,</p>
+<p>When Nightingales are in their nooks,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And all the leafy thickets ring.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">155</span>
+<a name = "page155" id = "page155"> </a>
+<!-- png 224 -->
+<p>The love she coyly hid at heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was shyly conscious in her eye;</p>
+<p>O! who that looked could help but love?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Not I, sweet soul, not I.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail037.png" width = "127" height = "79"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">156</span>
+<a name = "page156" id = "page156"> </a>
+<!-- png 225 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head046.png" width = "376" height = "157"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ARTHUR O’SHAUGHNESSY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1844-1881.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A LOVE SYMPHONY.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">long</span>
+the garden ways just now</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I heard the flowers speak;</p>
+<p>The white rose told me of your brow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The red rose of your cheek;</p>
+<p>The lily of your bended head,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The bindweed of your hair:</p>
+<p>Each looked its loveliest and said</p>
+<p class = "inset1">You were more fair.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I went into the wood anon,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And heard the wild birds sing,</p>
+<p>How sweet you were; they warbled on,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Piped, trilled the self-same thing.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">157</span>
+<a name = "page157" id = "page157"> </a>
+<!-- png 226 -->
+<p>Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The burden did repeat,</p>
+<p>And still began again because</p>
+<p class = "inset1">You were more sweet.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+And then I went down to the sea,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And heard it murmuring too,</p>
+<p>Part of an ancient mystery,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All made of me and you.</p>
+<p>How many a thousand years ago</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I loved, and you were sweet&mdash;</p>
+<p>Longer I could not stay, and so</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I fled back to your feet.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 228 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate158" id = "plate158"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp158.jpg" width = "369" height = "530"
+alt = "“She turned back at the last to wait�"
+title = "“She turned back at the last to wait�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 229 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">158</span>
+<a name = "page158" id = "page158"> </a>
+<!-- png 227 -->
+<h4>I MADE ANOTHER GARDEN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;made</span>
+another garden, yea,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For my new love;</p>
+<p>I left the dead rose where it lay,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And set the new above.</p>
+<p>Why did the summer not begin?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Why did my heart not haste?</p>
+<p>My old love came and walked therein,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And laid the garden waste.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+She entered with her weary smile,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Just as of old;</p>
+<p>She looked around a little while,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And shivered at the cold.</p>
+<p>Her passing touch was death to all,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Her passing look a blight;</p>
+<p>She made the white rose-petals fall,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And turned the red rose white.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Her pale robe, clinging to the grass,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Seemed like a snake</p>
+<p>That bit the grass and ground, alas!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And a sad trail did make.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">159</span>
+<a name = "page159" id = "page159"> </a>
+<!-- png 230 -->
+<p>She went up slowly to the gate;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And there, just as of yore,</p>
+<p>She turned back at the last to wait,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And say farewell once more.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail055.png" width = "128" height = "68"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">160</span>
+<a name = "page160" id = "page160"> </a>
+<!-- png 231 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head075.png" width = "372" height = "138"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1825-1864.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE LOST CHORD.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">eated</span>
+one day at the Organ,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I was weary and ill at ease,</p>
+<p>And my fingers wandered idly</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Over the noisy keys.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I do not know what I was playing,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or what I was dreaming then;</p>
+<p>But I struck one chord of music,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like the sound of a great Amen.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It flooded the crimson twilight</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like the close of an Angel’s Psalm,</p>
+<p>And it lay on my fevered spirit</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With a touch of infinite calm.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">161</span>
+<a name = "page161" id = "page161"> </a>
+<!-- png 232 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+It quieted pain and sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like love overcoming strife;</p>
+<p>It seemed the harmonious echo</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From our discordant Life.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It linked all perplexèd meanings</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Into one perfect peace,</p>
+<p>And trembled away into silence</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As if it were loth to cease.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I have sought, but I seek it vainly,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That one lost chord divine,</p>
+<p>Which came from the soul of the Organ,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And entered into mine.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It may be that Death’s bright angel</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Will speak in that chord again,&mdash;</p>
+<p>It may be that only in Heaven</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I shall hear that grand Amen.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">162</span>
+<a name = "page162" id = "page162"> </a>
+<!-- png 233 -->
+<h4>SENT TO HEAVEN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;had</span>
+a Message to send her,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To her whom my soul loved best;</p>
+<p>But I had my task to finish,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And she was gone home to rest.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+To rest in the far bright heaven;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Oh, so far away from here,</p>
+<p>It was vain to speak to my darling,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For I knew she could not hear!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I had a message to send her,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">So tender, and true, and sweet,</p>
+<p>I longed for an Angel to bear it,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And lay it down at her feet.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I placed it, one summer evening,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On a Cloudlet’s fleecy breast;</p>
+<p>But it faded in golden splendour,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And died in the crimson west.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">163</span>
+<a name = "page163" id = "page163"> </a>
+<!-- png 234 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I gave it the Lark next morning,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I watched it soar and soar;</p>
+<p>But its pinions grew faint and weary,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And it fluttered to earth once more.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+To the heart of a Rose I told it;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the perfume, sweet and rare,</p>
+<p>Growing faint on the blue bright ether,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Was lost in the balmy air.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I laid it upon a Censer,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I saw the incense rise;</p>
+<p>But its clouds of rolling silver</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Could not reach the far blue skies.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I cried, in my passionate longing:&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“Has the earth no Angel-friend</p>
+<p>Who will carry my love the message</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That my heart desires to send?�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then I heard a strain of music,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">So mighty, so pure, so clear,</p>
+<p>That my very sorrow was silent,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And my heart stood still to hear.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">164</span>
+<a name = "page164" id = "page164"> </a>
+<!-- png 235 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+And I felt, in my soul’s deep yearning,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">At last the sure answer stir:&mdash;</p>
+<p>“The music will go up to Heaven,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And carry my thought to her.�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It rose in harmonious rushing</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Of mingled voices and strings,</p>
+<p>And I tenderly laid my message</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On the Music’s outspread wings.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I heard it float farther and farther,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In sound more perfect than speech;</p>
+<p>Farther than sight can follow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Farther than soul can reach.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+And I know that at last my message</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Has passed through the golden gate:</p>
+<p>So my heart is no longer restless,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I am content to wait.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">165</span>
+<a name = "page165" id = "page165"> </a>
+<!-- png 236 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head066.png" width = "376" height = "164"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>B. W. PROCTER (BARRY&nbsp;CORNWALL).</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1787-1874.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE POET’S SONG TO HIS WIFE.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">H</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ow</span>
+many Summers, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Have I been thine?</p>
+<p>How many days, thou dove,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hast thou been mine?</p>
+<p>Time, like the wingèd wind</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When ’t bends the flowers,</p>
+<p>Hath left no mark behind,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To count the hours!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Some weight of thought, though loth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On thee he leaves;</p>
+<p>Some lines of care round both</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Perhaps he weaves;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">166</span>
+<a name = "page166" id = "page166"> </a>
+<!-- png 237 -->
+<p>Some fears,&mdash;a soft regret</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For joys scarce known;</p>
+<p>Sweet looks we half forget;&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">All else is flown!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Ah! with what thankless heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I mourn and sing!</p>
+<p>Look, where our children start,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like sudden Spring!</p>
+<p>With tongues all sweet and low,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like a pleasant rhyme,</p>
+<p>They tell how much I owe</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To thee and Time!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail068.png" width = "123" height = "83"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">167</span>
+<a name = "page167" id = "page167"> </a>
+<!-- png 238 -->
+<h4>A PETITION TO TIME.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+1831.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ouch</span>
+us gently, Time!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Let us glide adown thy stream</p>
+<p>Gently,&mdash;as we sometimes glide</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Through a quiet dream!</p>
+<p>Humble voyagers are We,</p>
+<p>Husband, wife, and children three&mdash;</p>
+<p>(One is lost,&mdash;an angel, fled</p>
+<p>To the azure overhead!)</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Touch us gently, Time!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We ’ve not proud nor soaring wings:</p>
+<p><i>Our</i> ambition, <i>our</i> content</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Lies in simple things.</p>
+<p>Humble voyagers are We,</p>
+<p>O’er Life’s dim unsounded sea,</p>
+<p>Seeking only some calm clime:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Touch us <i>gently</i>, gentle Time!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">168</span>
+<a name = "page168" id = "page168"> </a>
+<!-- png 239 -->
+<h4>A BACCHANALIAN SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY MR. H. PHILLIPS.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ing!&mdash;</span>Who sings</p>
+<p>To her who weareth a hundred rings?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ah, who is this lady fine?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The <span class = "smallcaps">Vine</span>, boys,
+the <span class = "smallcaps">Vine</span>!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The mother of mighty Wine.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">A roamer is she</p>
+<p class = "inset2">O’er wall and tree,</p>
+<p>And sometimes very good company.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Drink!&mdash;Who drinks</p>
+<p>To her who blusheth and never thinks?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ah, who is this maid of thine?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The <span class = "smallcaps">Grape</span>, boys,
+the <span class = "smallcaps">Grape</span>!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O, never let her escape</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Until she be turned to Wine!</p>
+<p class = "inset2">For better is she</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Than vine can be,</p>
+<p>And very, very good company!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">169</span>
+<a name = "page169" id = "page169"> </a>
+<!-- png 240 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Dream!&mdash;Who dreams</p>
+<p>Of the God that governs a thousand streams?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ah, who is this Spirit fine?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">’T is <span class = "smallcaps">Wine</span>, boys,
+’t is <span class = "smallcaps">Wine</span>!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">God Bacchus, a friend of mine.</p>
+<p class = "inset2">O better is he</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Than grape or tree,</p>
+<p>And the best of all good company.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail040.png" width = "126" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">170</span>
+<a name = "page170" id = "page170"> </a>
+<!-- png 241 -->
+<h4>SHE WAS NOT FAIR NOR FULL OF GRACE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+was not fair, nor full of grace,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Nor crowned with thought or aught beside;</p>
+<p>No wealth had she, of mind or face,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To win our love, or raise our pride:</p>
+<p>No lover’s thought her cheek did touch;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">No poet’s dream was ’round her thrown;</p>
+<p>And yet we miss her&mdash;ah, too much,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Now&mdash;she hath flown!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+We miss her when the morning calls,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As one that mingled in our mirth;</p>
+<p>We miss her when the evening falls,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">A trifle wanted on the earth!</p>
+<p>Some fancy small or subtle thought</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is checked ere to its blossom grown;</p>
+<p>Some chain is broken that we wrought,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Now&mdash;she hath flown!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+No solid good, nor hope defined,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is marred now she hath sunk in night;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">171</span>
+<a name = "page171" id = "page171"> </a>
+<!-- png 242 -->
+<p>And yet the strong immortal Mind</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Is stopped in its triumphant flight!</p>
+<p>Stern friend, what power is in a tear,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What strength in one poor thought alone,</p>
+<p>When all we know is&mdash;“She was here,�</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And&mdash;“She hath flown!�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail012.png" width = "127" height = "57"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">172</span>
+<a name = "page172" id = "page172"> </a>
+<!-- png 243 -->
+<h4>THE SEA-KING.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">C</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ome</span>
+sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the fame that now hangs o’er him,</p>
+<p>Who once did sweep o’er the vanquish’d deep,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And drove the world before him!</p>
+<p>His deck was a throne, on the ocean lone,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the sea was his park of pleasure,</p>
+<p>Where he scattered in fear the human deer,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And rested,&mdash;when he had leisure!</p>
+<p class = "inset5">Come,&mdash;shout and sing</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Of the great Sea-King,</p>
+<p class = "inset5">And ride in the track he rode in!</p>
+<p class = "inset6">He sits at the head</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Of the mighty dead,</p>
+<p class = "inset5">On the red right hand of Odin!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+He sprang, from birth, like a God on earth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And soared on his victor pinions,</p>
+<p>And he traversed the sea, as the eagles flee,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When they gaze on their blue dominions.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">173</span>
+<a name = "page173" id = "page173"> </a>
+<!-- png 244 -->
+<p>His whole earth life was a conquering strife,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And he lived till his beard grew hoary,</p>
+<p>And he died at last, by his blood-red mast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And now&mdash;he is lost in glory!</p>
+<p class = "inset8">So,&mdash;shout and sing, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail100.png" width = "127" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">174</span>
+<a name = "page174" id = "page174"> </a>
+<!-- png 245 -->
+<h4>A SERENADE.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">wake!&mdash;</span>The starry midnight Hour</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight:</p>
+<p>In its own sweetness sleeps the flower;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the doves lie hushed in deep delight!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Awake! Awake!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Look forth, my love, for Love’s sweet sake!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Awake!&mdash;Soft dews will soon arise</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From daisied mead, and thorny brake;</p>
+<p>Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And like the tender morning break!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Awake! Awake!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Dawn forth, my love, for Love’s sweet sake!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Awake!&mdash;Within the musk-rose bower</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I watch, pale flower of love, for thee;</p>
+<p>Ah, come, and shew the starry Hour</p>
+<p class = "inset1">What wealth of love thou hid’st from me!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Awake! Awake!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Shew all thy love, for Love’s sweet sake!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">175</span>
+<a name = "page175" id = "page175"> </a>
+<!-- png 246 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Awake!&mdash;Ne’er heed, though listening Night</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Steal music from thy silver voice:</p>
+<p>Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And bid the world and me rejoice!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Awake! Awake!</p>
+<p class = "inset3">She comes,&mdash;at last, for Love’s sweet sake!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail083.png" width = "127" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 248 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate176" id = "plate176"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp176.jpg" width = "368" height = "536"
+alt = "King Death" title = "King Death">
+</p>
+<!-- png 249 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">176</span>
+<a name = "page176" id = "page176"> </a>
+<!-- png 247 -->
+<h4>KING DEATH.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">K</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ing Death</span>
+was a rare old fellow!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">He sate where no sun could shine;</p>
+<p>And he lifted his hand so yellow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And poured out his coal-black wine.</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+There came to him many a Maiden,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Whose eyes had forgot to shine;</p>
+<p>And Widows, with grief o’erladen,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">For a draught of his sleepy wine.</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The Scholar left all his learning;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The Poet his fancied woes;</p>
+<p>And the Beauty her bloom returning,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As the beads of the black wine rose.</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">177</span>
+<a name = "page177" id = "page177"> </a>
+<!-- png 250 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+All came to the royal old fellow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine,</p>
+<p>As he gave them his hand so yellow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And pledged them in Death’s black wine.</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Hurrah!&mdash;Hurrah!</p>
+<p class = "inset6">Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail045.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">178</span>
+<a name = "page178" id = "page178"> </a>
+<!-- png 251 -->
+<h4>SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">it</span>
+down, sad soul, and count</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The moments flying:</p>
+<p>Come,&mdash;tell the sweet amount</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That ’s lost by sighing!</p>
+<p>How many smiles?&mdash;a score?</p>
+<p>Then laugh, and count no more;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">For day is dying!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And no more measure</p>
+<p>The flight of Time, nor weep</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The loss of leisure;</p>
+<p>But here, by this lone stream,</p>
+<p>Lie down with us, and dream</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Of starry treasure!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+We dream: do thou the same:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We love&mdash;for ever:</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">179</span>
+<a name = "page179" id = "page179"> </a>
+<!-- png 252 -->
+<p>We laugh; yet few we shame,</p>
+<p> The gentle, never.</p>
+<p>Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;</p>
+<p><i>Then</i>&mdash;hope and happy skies</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Are thine for ever!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail065.png" width = "187" height = "77"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">180</span>
+<a name = "page180" id = "page180"> </a>
+<!-- png 253 -->
+<h4>A DRINKING SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">D</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">rink,</span>
+and fill the night with mirth!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Let us have a mighty measure,</p>
+<p>Till we quite forget the earth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And soar into the world of pleasure.</p>
+<p>Drink, and let a health go round,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">(’T is the drinker’s noble duty,)</p>
+<p>To the eyes that shine and wound,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To the mouths that bud in beauty!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Here ’s to Helen! Why, ah! why</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Doth she fly from my pursuing?</p>
+<p>Here ’s to Marian, cold and shy!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">May she warm before thy wooing!</p>
+<p>Here ’s to Janet! I ’ve been e’er,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Boy and man, her staunch defender,</p>
+<p>Always sworn that she was fair,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Always <i>known</i> that she was tender!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Let them with the champagne tremble,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">181</span>
+<a name = "page181" id = "page181"> </a>
+<!-- png 254 -->
+<p>Like the loose wrack in the sky,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When the four wild winds assemble!</p>
+<p>Here ’s to all the love on earth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">(Love, the young man’s, wise man’s treasure!)</p>
+<p>Drink, and fill your throats with mirth!</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail109.png" width = "131" height = "82"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">182</span>
+<a name = "page182" id = "page182"> </a>
+<!-- png 255 -->
+<h4>PEACE! WHAT DO TEARS AVAIL?</h4> <!-- sic inconsistency -->
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">P</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">eace!</span>
+what can tears avail?</p>
+<p>She lies all dumb and pale,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And from her eye,</p>
+<p>The spirit of lovely life is fading,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And she must die!</p>
+<p>Why looks the lover wroth? the friend upbraiding?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Reply, reply!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Hath she not dwelt too long</p>
+<p>’Midst pain, and grief, and wrong?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Then, why not die?</p>
+<p>Why suffer again her doom of sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And hopeless lie?</p>
+<p>Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Reply, reply!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Death! Take her to thine arms,</p>
+<p>In all her stainless charms,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">183</span>
+<a name = "page183" id = "page183"> </a>
+<!-- png 256 -->
+<p class = "inset1">And with her fly</p>
+<p>To heavenly haunts, where, clad in brightness,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The Angels lie!</p>
+<p>Wilt bear her there, O Death! in all her whiteness?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Reply,&mdash;reply!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail120.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">184</span>
+<a name = "page184" id = "page184"> </a>
+<!-- png 257 -->
+<h4>THE SEA.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!</p>
+<p>The blue, the fresh, the ever free!</p>
+<p>Without a mark, without a bound,</p>
+<p>It runneth the earth’s wide regions ’round;</p>
+<p>It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;</p>
+<p>Or like a cradled creature lies.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’m on the Sea! I ’m on the Sea!</p>
+<p>I am where I would ever be;</p>
+<p>With the blue above, and the blue below,</p>
+<p>And silence wheresoe’er I go;</p>
+<p>If a storm should come and awake the deep,</p>
+<p>What matter? <i>I</i> shall ride and sleep.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I love (oh! <i>how</i> I love) to ride</p>
+<p>On the fierce foaming bursting tide,</p>
+<p>When every mad wave drowns the moon,</p>
+<p>Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">185</span>
+<a name = "page185" id = "page185"> </a>
+<!-- png 258 -->
+<p>And tells how goeth the world below,</p>
+<p>And why the south-west blasts do blow.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I never was on the dull tame shore,</p>
+<p>But I loved the great Sea more and more,</p>
+<p>And backwards flew to her billowy breast,</p>
+<p>Like a bird that seeketh its mother’s nest;</p>
+<p>And a mother she <i>was</i>, and <i>is</i> to me;</p>
+<p>For I was born on the open Sea!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The waves were white, and red the morn,</p>
+<p>In the noisy hour when I was born;</p>
+<p>And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,</p>
+<p>And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;</p>
+<p>And never was heard such an outcry wild</p>
+<p>As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I ’ve lived since then, in calm and strife,</p>
+<p>Full fifty summers a sailor’s life,</p>
+<p>With wealth to spend and a power to range,</p>
+<p>But never have sought, nor sighed for change;</p>
+<p>And Death, whenever he come to me,</p>
+<p>Shall come on the wild unbounded Sea!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">186</span>
+<a name = "page186" id = "page186"> </a>
+<!-- png 259 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head070.png" width = "376" height = "171"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1830-1895.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+I am dead, my dearest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing no sad songs for me;</p>
+<p>Plant thou no roses at my head,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Nor shady cypress-tree:</p>
+<p>Be the green grass above me</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With showers and dewdrops wet;</p>
+<p>And if thou wilt, remember,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And if thou wilt, forget.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I shall not see the shadows,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I shall not feel the rain;</p>
+<p>I shall not hear the nightingale</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sing on, as if in pain:</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">187</span>
+<a name = "page187" id = "page187"> </a>
+<!-- png 260 -->
+<p>And dreaming through the twilight</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That doth not rise nor set,</p>
+<p>Haply I may remember,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And haply may forget.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail059.png" width = "126" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">188</span>
+<a name = "page188" id = "page188"> </a>
+<!-- png 261 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;roses</span>
+for the flush of youth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And laurel for the perfect prime;</p>
+<p>But pluck an ivy branch for me</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Grown old before my time.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O violets for the grave of youth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And bay for those dead in their prime;</p>
+<p>Give me the withered leaves I chose</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Before in the old time.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail025.png" width = "124" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">189</span>
+<a name = "page189" id = "page189"> </a>
+<!-- png 262 -->
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">wo</span>
+doves upon the selfsame branch,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Two lilies on a single stem,</p>
+<p>Two butterflies upon one flower:&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O happy they who look on them.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Who look upon them hand in hand</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Flushed in the rosy summer light;</p>
+<p>Who look upon them hand in hand</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And never give a thought to night.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail083.png" width = "127" height = "78"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">190</span>
+<a name = "page190" id = "page190"> </a>
+<!-- png 263 -->
+<h4>THREE SEASONS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap"><span class = "quotes">“</span>A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">cup</span> for hope!� she said,</p>
+<p>In springtime ere the bloom was old:</p>
+<p>The crimson wine was poor and cold</p>
+<p class = "inset1">By her mouth’s richer red.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+“A cup for love!� how low,</p>
+<p>How soft the words; and all the while</p>
+<p>Her blush was rippling with a smile</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like summer after snow.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+“A cup for memory!�</p>
+<p>Cold cup that one must drain alone:</p>
+<p>While autumn winds are up and moan</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Across the barren sea.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Hope, memory, love:</p>
+<p>Hope for fair morn, and love for day,</p>
+<p>And memory for the evening gray</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And solitary dove.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">191</span>
+<a name = "page191" id = "page191"> </a>
+<!-- png 264 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head043.png" width = "377" height = "167"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1828-1882.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A LITTLE WHILE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;little</span>
+while a little love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The hour yet bears for thee and me</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Who have not drawn the veil to see</p>
+<p>If still our heaven be lit above.</p>
+<p>Thou merely, at the day’s last sigh,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone;</p>
+<p>And I have heard the night-wind cry</p>
+<p class = "inset2">And deemed its speech mine own.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+A little while a little love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The scattering autumn hoards for us</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Whose bower is not yet ruinous</p>
+<p>Nor quite unleaved our songless grove.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">192</span>
+<a name = "page192" id = "page192"> </a>
+<!-- png 265 -->
+<p>Only across the shaken boughs</p>
+<p class = "inset1">We hear the flood-tides seek the sea,</p>
+<p>And deep in both our hearts they rouse</p>
+<p class = "inset2">One wail for thee and me.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+A little while a little love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">May yet be ours who have not said</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The word it makes our eyes afraid</p>
+<p>To know that each is thinking of.</p>
+<p>Not yet the end: be our lips dumb</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In smiles a little season yet:</p>
+<p>I ’ll tell thee, when the end is come,</p>
+<p class = "inset2">How we may best forget.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail045.png" width = "125" height = "73"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">193</span>
+<a name = "page193" id = "page193"> </a>
+<!-- png 266 -->
+<h4>SUDDEN LIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap3">I</p>
+<p class = "inset2"><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;have</span>
+been here before,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">But when or how I cannot tell:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">I know the grass beyond the door,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">The sweet keen smell,</p>
+<p>The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+You have been mine before,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset3">How long ago I may not know:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">But just when at that swallow’s soar</p>
+<p class = "inset3">Your neck turned so,</p>
+<p>Some veil did fall,&mdash;I knew it all of yore.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+Has this been thus before?</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And shall not thus time’s eddying flight</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Still with our lives our loves restore</p>
+<p class = "inset3">In death’s despite,</p>
+<p>And day and night yield one delight once more?</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<!-- png 268 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate194" id = "plate194"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp194.jpg" width = "372" height = "530"
+alt = "“I looked and saw your eyes�"
+title = "“I looked and saw your eyes�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 269 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">194</span>
+<a name = "page194" id = "page194"> </a>
+<!-- png 267 -->
+<h4>THREE SHADOWS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;looked</span>
+and saw your eyes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of your hair,</p>
+<p>As a traveller sees the stream</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of the wood;</p>
+<p>And I said, “My faint heart sighs,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ah me! to linger there,</p>
+<p>To drink deep and to dream</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In that sweet solitude.�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+I looked and saw your heart</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of your eyes,</p>
+<p>As a seeker sees the gold</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of the stream;</p>
+<p>And I said, “Ah, me! what art</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Should win the immortal prize,</p>
+<p>Whose want must make life cold</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And Heaven a hollow dream?�</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">195</span>
+<a name = "page195" id = "page195"> </a>
+<!-- png 270 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+I looked and saw your love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of your heart,</p>
+<p>As a diver sees the pearl</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the shadow of the sea;</p>
+<p>And I murmured, not above</p>
+<p class = "inset1">My breath, but all apart,&mdash;</p>
+<p>“Ah! you can love, true girl,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And is your love for me?�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail021.png" width = "121" height = "86"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">196</span>
+<a name = "page196" id = "page196"> </a>
+<!-- png 271 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head088.png" width = "374" height = "140"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1812-1890.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>PARTING AND MEETING AGAIN.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ast</span>
+time I parted from my Dear</p>
+<p>The linnet sang from the briar-bush,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">The throstle from the dell;</p>
+<p>The stream too carolled full and clear,</p>
+<p>It was the spring-time of the year,</p>
+<p>And both the linnet and the thrush</p>
+<p class = "inset4">I love them well</p>
+<p>Since last I parted from my Dear.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+But when he came again to me</p>
+<p>The barley rustled high and low,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">197</span>
+<a name = "page197" id = "page197"> </a>
+<!-- png 272 -->
+<p class = "inset4">Linnet and thrush were still;</p>
+<p>Yellowed the apple on the tree,</p>
+<p>’T was autumn merry as it could be,</p>
+<p>What time the white ships come and go</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Under the hill;</p>
+<p>They brought him back again to me,</p>
+<p>Brought him safely o’er the sea.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail042.png" width = "125" height = "54"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">198</span>
+<a name = "page198" id = "page198"> </a>
+<!-- png 273 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head039.png" width = "372" height = "158"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>JOSEPH SKIPSEY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1832</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A MERRY BEE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;golden</span>
+bee a-cometh</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O’er the mere, glassy mere,</p>
+<p>And a merry tale he hummeth</p>
+<p class = "inset4">In my ear.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+How he seized and kist a blossom,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From its tree, thorny tree,</p>
+<p>Plucked and placed in Annie’s bosom,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Hums the bee!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">199</span>
+<a name = "page199" id = "page199"> </a>
+<!-- png 274 -->
+<h4>THE SONGSTRESS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">B</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ack</span>
+flies my soul to other years,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">When thou that charming lay repeatest,</p>
+<p>When smiles were only chased by tears,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Yet sweeter far than smiles the sweetest.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Thy music ends, and where are they?</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Those golden times by memory cherished?</p>
+<p>O, Syren, sing no more that lay,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Or sing till I like them have perished!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail040.png" width = "126" height = "74"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">200</span>
+<a name = "page200" id = "page200"> </a>
+<!-- png 275 -->
+<h4>THE VIOLET AND THE ROSE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+Violet invited my kiss,&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I kissed it and called it my bride;</p>
+<p>“Was ever one slighted like this?�</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sighed the Rose as it stood by my side.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+My heart ever open to grief,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To comfort the fair one I turned;</p>
+<p>“Of fickle ones thou art the chief!�</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Frowned the Violet, and pouted and mourned.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then, to end all disputes, I entwined</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The love-stricken blossoms in one;</p>
+<p>But that instant their beauty declined,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I wept for the deed I had done!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">201</span>
+<a name = "page201" id = "page201"> </a>
+<!-- png 276 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head201.png" width = "379" height = "136"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>J. ASHBY STERRY.</h3>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>REGRETS.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;for</span>
+the look of those pure grey eyes&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Seeming to plead and speak&mdash;</p>
+<p>The parted lips and the deep-drawn sighs,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The blush on the kissen cheek!</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>O for the tangle of soft brown hair,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Lazily blown by the breeze;</p>
+<p>The fleeting hours unshadowed by care,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Shaded by tremulous trees!</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>O for the dream of those sunny days,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With their bright unbroken spell,</p>
+<p>And the thrilling sweet untutored praise&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">From the lips once loved so well!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">202</span>
+<a name = "page202" id = "page202"> </a>
+<!-- png 277 -->
+<h5>IV.</h5>
+
+<p>O for the feeling of days agone,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The simple faith and the truth,</p>
+<p>The spring of time and life’s rosy dawn&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">O for the love and the youth!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail202.png" width = "129" height = "134"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">203</span>
+<a name = "page203" id = "page203"> </a>
+<!-- png 278 -->
+<h4>DAISY’S DIMPLES.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">L</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">ittle</span>
+dimples so sweet and soft,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Love the cheek of my love:</p>
+<p>The mark of Cupid’s dainty hand,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Before he wore a glove.</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>Laughing dimples of tender love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Smile on my darling’s cheek;</p>
+<p>Sweet hallowed spots where kisses lurk,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And play at hide and seek.</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>Fain would I hide my kisses there</p>
+<p class = "inset1">At morning’s rosy light,</p>
+<p>To come and seek them back again</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In silver hush of night.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">204</span>
+<a name = "page204" id = "page204"> </a>
+<!-- png 279 -->
+<h4>A LOVER’S LULLABY.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<p class = "dropcap">M</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">irror</span>
+your sweet eyes in mine, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">See how they glitter and shine!</p>
+<p>Quick fly such moments divine, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Link your lithe fingers in mine!</p>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<p>Lay your soft cheek against mine, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Pillow your head on my breast;</p>
+<p>While your brown locks I entwine, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Pout your red lips when they ’re prest!</p>
+
+<h5>III.</h5>
+
+<p>Mirror your fate, then, in mine, love;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Sorrow and sighing resign:</p>
+<p>Life is too short to repine, love,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Link your fair future in mine!</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">205</span>
+<a name = "page205" id = "page205"> </a>
+<!-- png 280 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head098.png" width = "375" height = "161"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1837.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>A MATCH.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">f</span>
+love were what the rose is,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were like the leaf,</p>
+<p>Our lives would grow together</p>
+<p>In sad or singing weather,</p>
+<p>Blown fields or flowerful closes,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Green pleasure or grey grief;</p>
+<p>If love were what the rose is,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were like the leaf.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If I were what the words are,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And love were like the tune,</p>
+<p>With double sound or single</p>
+<p>Delight our lips would mingle,</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">206</span>
+<a name = "page206" id = "page206"> </a>
+<!-- png 281 -->
+<p>With kisses glad as birds are</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That get sweet rain at noon;</p>
+<p>If I were what the words are,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And love were like the tune.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If you were life, my darling,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I your love were death,</p>
+<p>We ’d shine and snow together</p>
+<p>Ere March made sweet the weather</p>
+<p>With daffodil and starling</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And hours of fruitful breath;</p>
+<p>If you were life, my darling,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I your love were death.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If you were thrall to sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were page to joy,</p>
+<p>We ’d play for lives and seasons</p>
+<p>With loving looks and treasons</p>
+<p>And tears of night and morrow</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And laughs of maid and boy;</p>
+<p>If you were thrall to sorrow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were page to joy.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">207</span>
+<a name = "page207" id = "page207"> </a>
+<!-- png 282 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+If you were April’s lady,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were lord in May,</p>
+<p>We ’d throw with leaves for hours</p>
+<p>And draw for days with flowers,</p>
+<p>Till day like night were shady</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And night were bright like day;</p>
+<p>If you were April’s lady,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were lord in May.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If you were queen of pleasure,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And I were king of pain,</p>
+<p>We ’d hunt down love together,</p>
+<p>Pluck out his flying-feather,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And teach his feet a measure,</p>
+<p>And find his mouth a rein;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">If you were queen of pleasure,</p>
+<p>And I were king of pain.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">208</span>
+<a name = "page208" id = "page208"> </a>
+<!-- png 283 -->
+<h4>RONDEL.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">K</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">issing</span>
+her hair I sat against her feet,</p>
+<p>Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet;</p>
+<p>Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes,</p>
+<p>Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies;</p>
+<p>With her own tresses bound and found her fair,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Kissing her hair.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,</p>
+<p>Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;</p>
+<p>What pain could get between my face and hers?</p>
+<p>What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?</p>
+<p>Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,</p>
+<p class = "inset4">Kissing her hair?</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail057.png" width = "68" height = "41"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">209</span>
+<a name = "page209" id = "page209"> </a>
+<!-- png 284 -->
+<h4>SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “FELISE.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">O</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">&nbsp;lips</span>
+that mine have grown into</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like April’s kissing May,</p>
+<p>O fervent eyelids letting through</p>
+<p>Those eyes the greenest of things blue,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The bluest of things gray,</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+If you were I and I were you,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">How could I love you, say?</p>
+<p>How could the roseleaf love the rue,</p>
+<p>The day love nightfall and her dew,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Though night may love the day?</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">210</span>
+<a name = "page210" id = "page210"> </a>
+<!-- png 285 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head077.png" width = "371" height = "170"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>ALFRED TENNYSON.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1809-1892.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>THE BUGLE SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE PRINCESS.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p class = "inset2"><span class = "firstword">he</span>
+splendour falls on castle walls</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And snowy summits old in story:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">The long light shakes across the lakes,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.</p>
+<p>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</p>
+<p>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And thinner, clearer, farther going!</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">211</span>
+<a name = "page211" id = "page211"> </a>
+<!-- png 286 -->
+<p class = "inset2">O sweet and far from cliff and scar</p>
+<p class = "inset3">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!</p>
+<p>Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:</p>
+<p>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset2 stanza">
+O love, they die in yon rich sky,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">They faint on hill or field or river:</p>
+<p class = "inset2">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,</p>
+<p class = "inset3">And grow for ever and for ever.</p>
+<p>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</p>
+<p>And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail008.png" width = "125" height = "95"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">212</span>
+<a name = "page212" id = "page212"> </a>
+<!-- png 287 -->
+<h4>BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">B</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">reak,</span>
+break, break,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!</p>
+<p>And I would that my tongue could utter</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The thoughts that arise in me.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+O well for the fisherman’s boy,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That he shouts with his sister at play!</p>
+<p>O well for the sailor lad,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+And the stately ships go on</p>
+<p class = "inset1">To their haven under the hill;</p>
+<p>But O for the touch of a vanished hand,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the sound of a voice that is still!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Break, break, break,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!</p>
+<p>But the tender grace of a day that is dead</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Will never come back to me.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate212" id = "plate212"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp212.jpg" width = "373" height = "523"
+alt = "Break, Break, Break" title = "Break, Break, Break">
+</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">213</span>
+<a name = "page213" id = "page213"> </a>
+<!-- png 288 -->
+<h4>TEARS, IDLE TEARS.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE PRINCESS.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p class = "inset1"><span class = "firstword">ears,</span>
+idle tears, I know not what they mean,</p>
+<p>Tears from the depth of some divine despair</p>
+<p>Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,</p>
+<p>In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,</p>
+<p>And thinking of the days that are no more.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,</p>
+<p>That brings our friends up from the underworld,</p>
+<p>Sad as the last which reddens over one</p>
+<p>That sinks with all we love below the verge;</p>
+<p>So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns</p>
+<p>The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds</p>
+<p>To dying ears, when unto dying eyes</p>
+<p>The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;</p>
+<p>So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">214</span>
+<a name = "page214" id = "page214"> </a>
+<!-- png 289 -->
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Dear as remembered kisses after death,</p>
+<p>And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned</p>
+<p>On lips that are for others; deep as love,</p>
+<p>Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;</p>
+<p>O Death in Life, the days that are no more.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail019.png" width = "117" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">215</span>
+<a name = "page215" id = "page215"> </a>
+<!-- png 290 -->
+<h4>SWEET AND LOW.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE PRINCESS.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">S</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">weet</span>
+and low, sweet and low,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wind of the western sea,</p>
+<p>Low, low, breathe and blow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Wind of the western sea!</p>
+<p>Over the rolling waters go,</p>
+<p>Come from the dying moon, and blow,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Blow him again to me;</p>
+<p>While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Father will come to thee soon;</p>
+<p>Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Father will come to thee soon;</p>
+<p>Father will come to his babe in the nest,</p>
+<p>Silver sails all out of the west</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Under the silver moon:</p>
+<p>Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">216</span>
+<a name = "page216" id = "page216"> </a>
+<!-- png 291 -->
+<h4>TURN, FORTUNE, TURN THY WHEEL.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">T</p>
+<p class = "inset1"><span class = "firstword">urn,</span>
+Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;</p>
+<p>Turn thy wild wheel thro’ sunshine, storm, and cloud;</p>
+<p>Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;</p>
+<p>With that wild wheel we go not up or down;</p>
+<p>Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;</p>
+<p>Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;</p>
+<p>For man is man and master of his fate.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;</p>
+<p>Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;</p>
+<p>Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">217</span>
+<a name = "page217" id = "page217"> </a>
+<!-- png 292 -->
+<h4>VIVIEN’S SONG.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “MERLIN AND VIVIEN.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p class = "inset1"><span class = "firstword">n</span>
+Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,</p>
+<p>Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers:</p>
+<p>Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+It is the little rift within the lute,</p>
+<p>That by and by will make the music mute,</p>
+<p>And ever widening slowly silence all.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+The little rift within the lover’s lute</p>
+<p>Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,</p>
+<p>That rotting inward slowly moulders all.</p>
+
+<p class = "inset1 stanza">
+It is not worth the keeping: let it go:</p>
+<p>But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.</p>
+<p>And trust me not at all or all in all.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">218</span>
+<a name = "page218" id = "page218"> </a>
+<!-- png 293 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head049.png" width = "377" height = "107"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1811-1863.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>AT THE CHURCH GATE.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+FROM “PENDENNIS.�</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">A</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">lthough</span>
+I enter not,</p>
+<p>Yet round about the spot</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Ofttimes I hover:</p>
+<p>And near the sacred gate,</p>
+<p>With longing eyes I wait,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Expectant of her.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The Minster bell tolls out</p>
+<p>Above the city’s rout,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And noise and humming:</p>
+<p>They ’ve hushed the Minster bell:</p>
+<p>The organ ’gins to swell:</p>
+<p class = "inset1">She ’s coming, she ’s coming!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">219</span>
+<a name = "page219" id = "page219"> </a>
+<!-- png 294 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+My lady comes at last,</p>
+<p>Timid, and stepping fast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And hastening hither,</p>
+<p>With modest eyes downcast:</p>
+<p>She comes&mdash;she ’s here&mdash;she ’s past&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">May heaven go with her!</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Kneel, undisturbed, fair saint!</p>
+<p>Pour out your praise or plaint</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Meekly and duly;</p>
+<p>I will not enter there,</p>
+<p>To sully your pure prayer</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With thoughts unruly.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+But suffer me to pace</p>
+<p>Round the forbidden place,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Lingering a minute;</p>
+<p>Like outcast spirits who wait</p>
+<p>And see through heaven’s gate</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Angels within it.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">220</span>
+<a name = "page220" id = "page220"> </a>
+<!-- png 295 -->
+<h4>THE MAHOGANY TREE.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">C</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hristmas</span>
+is here;</p>
+<p>Winds whistle shrill,</p>
+<p>Icy and chill,</p>
+<p>Little care we:</p>
+<p>Little we fear</p>
+<p>Weather without</p>
+<p>Sheltered about</p>
+<p>The Mahogany Tree.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Once on the boughs</p>
+<p>Birds of rare plume</p>
+<p>Sang, in its bloom;</p>
+<p>Night-birds are we:</p>
+<p>Here we carouse,</p>
+<p>Singing like them,</p>
+<p>Perched round the stem</p>
+<p>Of the jolly old tree.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Here let us sport,</p>
+<p>Boys, as we sit;</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">221</span>
+<a name = "page221" id = "page221"> </a>
+<!-- png 296 -->
+<p>Laughter and wit</p>
+<p>Flashing so free.</p>
+<p>Life is but short&mdash;</p>
+<p>When we are gone,</p>
+<p>Let them sing on,</p>
+<p>Round the old tree.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Evenings we knew,</p>
+<p>Happy as this;</p>
+<p>Faces we miss,</p>
+<p>Pleasant to see.</p>
+<p>Kind hearts and true,</p>
+<p>Gentle and just,</p>
+<p>Peace to your dust!</p>
+<p>We sing round the tree.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Care, like a dun,</p>
+<p>Lurks at the gate:</p>
+<p>Let the dog wait;</p>
+<p>Happy we ’ll be!</p>
+<p>Drink, every one;</p>
+<p>Pile up the coals,</p>
+<p>Fill the red bowls,</p>
+<p>Round the old tree.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">222</span>
+<a name = "page222" id = "page222"> </a>
+<!-- png 297 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Drain we the cup.&mdash;</p>
+<p>Friend, art afraid?</p>
+<p>Spirits are laid</p>
+<p>In the Red Sea.</p>
+<p>Mantle it up;</p>
+<p>Empty it yet;</p>
+<p>Let us forget,</p>
+<p>Round the old tree.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Sorrows, begone!</p>
+<p>Life and its ills,</p>
+<p>Duns and their bills,</p>
+<p>Bid we to flee.</p>
+<p>Come with the dawn,</p>
+<p>Blue-devil sprite,</p>
+<p>Leave us to-night,</p>
+<p>Round the old tree.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class = "author">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">223</span>
+<a name = "page223" id = "page223"> </a>
+<!-- png 298 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/head094.png" width = "375" height = "145"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+<h3>GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY.</h3>
+
+<p class = "dates">1828-1876.</p>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<h4>DAYRISE AND SUNSET.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+Spring casts all her swallows forth</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Into the blue and lambent air,</p>
+<p>When lilacs toss their purple plumes</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And every cherry-tree grows fair,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Through fields with morning tints a-glow</p>
+<p>I take my rod and singing go.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Where lilies float on broad green leaves</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Below the ripples of the mill,</p>
+<p>When the white moth is hovering</p>
+<p class = "inset1">In the dim sky so hushed and still,</p>
+<p>I watch beneath the pollard ash</p>
+<p>The greedy trout leap up and splash.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">224</span>
+<a name = "page224" id = "page224"> </a>
+<!-- png 299 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+Or down where golden water flowers</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Are wading in the shallow tide,</p>
+<p>While still the dusk is tinged with rose</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Like a brown cheek o’erflushed with pride&mdash;</p>
+<p>I throw the crafty fly and wait;</p>
+<p>Watching the big trout eye the bait.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+It is the lover’s twilight-time,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And there ’s a magic in the hour,</p>
+<p>But I forget the sweets of love</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And all love’s tyranny and power,</p>
+<p>And with my feather-hidden steel</p>
+<p>Sigh but to fill my woven creel.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Then upward darkling through the copse</p>
+<p class = "inset1">I push my eager homeward way,</p>
+<p>Through glades of drowsy violets</p>
+<p class = "inset1">That never see the golden day.</p>
+<p>Yes! while the night comes soft and slow</p>
+<p>I take my rod and singing go.</p>
+</div>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- png 300 -->
+
+<p class = "illustration plate">
+<a name = "plate224" id = "plate224"> </a>
+<img src = "images/plate_opp224.jpg" width = "373" height = "520"
+alt = "“When Spring casts all her swallows forth�"
+title = "“When Spring casts all her swallows forth�">
+</p>
+<!-- png 301 -->
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">225</span>
+<a name = "page225" id = "page225"> </a>
+<!-- png 302 -->
+<h4>THE THREE TROOPERS.<br>
+<span class = "subhead">
+DURING THE PROTECTORATE.</span></h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">I</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">nto</span>
+the Devil tavern</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Three booted troopers strode,</p>
+<p>From spur to feather spotted and splashed</p>
+<p class = "inset1">With the mud of a winter road.</p>
+<p>In each of their cups they dropped a crust,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And stared at the guests with a frown;</p>
+<p>Then drew their swords, and roared for a toast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+A blue smoke rose from their pistol locks,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Their sword blades were still wet;</p>
+<p>There were long red smears on their jerkins of buff,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">As the table they overset.</p>
+<p>Then into their cups they stirred the crusts,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And cursed old London town;</p>
+<p>They waved their swords, and drank with a stamp,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">226</span>
+<a name = "page226" id = "page226"> </a>
+<!-- png 303 -->
+<p class = "stanza">
+The ’prentice dropped his can of beer,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The host turned pale as a clout;</p>
+<p>The ruby nose of the toping squires</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Grew white at the wild men’s shout.</p>
+<p>Then into their cups they flung their crusts,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And shewed their teeth with a frown;</p>
+<p>They flashed their swords as they gave the toast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+The gambler dropped his dog’s-ear’d cards,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">The waiting-women screamed,</p>
+<p>As the light of the fire, like stains of blood,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">On the wild men’s sabres gleamed.</p>
+<p>Then into their cups they splashed their crusts,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And cursed the fool of a town,</p>
+<p>And leapt on the table, and roared a toast,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Till on a sudden fire-bells rang,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the troopers sprang to horse;</p>
+<p>The eldest muttered between his teeth,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Hot curses&mdash;deep and coarse.</p>
+<span class = "pagenum">227</span>
+<a name = "page227" id = "page227"> </a>
+<!-- png 304 -->
+<p>In their stirrup cups they flung the crusts,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And cried as they spurred through the town,</p>
+<p>With their keen swords drawn and their pistols cocked,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+Away they dashed through Temple Bar,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Their red cloaks flowing free,</p>
+<p>Their scabbards clashed, each back-piece shone&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">None liked to touch the three.</p>
+<p>The silver cups that held the crusts</p>
+<p class = "inset1">They flung to the startled town,</p>
+<p>Shouting again, with a blaze of swords,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">“God send this Crum-well-down!�</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail047.png" width = "123" height = "64"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table summary = "poem">
+<tr><td>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">228</span>
+<a name = "page228" id = "page228"> </a>
+<!-- png 305 -->
+<h4>THE CUCKOO.</h4>
+
+<div class = "verse">
+<p class = "dropcap">W</p>
+<p><span class = "firstword">hen</span>
+a warm and scented steam</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Rises from the flowering earth;</p>
+<p>When the green leaves are all still,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the song birds cease their mirth;</p>
+<p>In the silence before rain</p>
+<p>Comes the cuckoo back again.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+When the Spring is all but gone&mdash;</p>
+<p class = "inset1">Tearful April, laughing May&mdash;</p>
+<p>When a hush comes on the woods,</p>
+<p class = "inset1">And the sunbeams cease to play;</p>
+<p>In the silence before rain</p>
+<p>Comes the cuckoo back again.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/tail228.png" width = "124" height = "90"
+alt = "decoration"></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+</div> <!-- end div maintext -->
+
+<hr class = "mid">
+
+<p class = "center">
+<a class = "red" name = "titletext" id = "titletext" href = "#titlepage">
+Title Page</a></p>
+
+<p class = "center">
+Victorian Songs<br>
+Lyrics of the Affections<br>
+and Nature<br>
+[Illustration]<br>
+Collected and Illustrated<br>
+by Edmund H Garrett<br>
+with an Introduction by<br>
+Edmund Gosse<br>
+[Decoration]<br>
+Little Brown and Company<br>
+Boston 1895</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Victorian Songs
+       Lyrics of the Affections and Nature
+
+Author: Various
+
+Commentator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Editor: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Illustrator: Edmund H. Garrett
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2008 [EBook #26715]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SONGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This
+file includes images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+[This e-text comes in two forms: Latin-1 and ASCII-7. Download the one
+that works best on your text reader.
+
+--In the Latin-1 version, names like "Aide" and words like "naivete"
+have accents, and "ae" is a single letter. If any part of this paragraph
+displays as garbage, try changing your text reader's "character set" or
+"file encoding". If that doesn't work, proceed to:
+
+--The ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All essential text will still be
+there; it just won't be as pretty.
+
+Spacing of contractions such as _I 've_ follows the original.]
+
+
+
+
+Victorian Songs
+
+  "'Let some one sing to us, lightlier move
+    The minutes fledged with music'."
+
+      TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  Victorian Songs
+
+  Lyrics of the Affections
+  and Nature
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  Collected and Illustrated
+  by Edmund H Garrett
+  with an Introduction by
+  Edmund Gosse
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  Little Brown and Company
+  Boston 1895
+
+
+
+
+  _Copyright, 1895._
+  BY EDMUND H. GARRETT.
+
+
+  University Press:
+  John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Some printings of the book have a two-page Editor's Note before the
+Contents, acknowledging the "publishers and authors who have given
+permission for the use of many of the songs included in this volume".
+It has been omitted from this e-text.]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+    Where are the songs I used to know?
+
+        Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+  AIDE, HAMILTON (1830).                                    Page
+    Remember or Forget                                         3
+    Oh, Let Me Dream                                           6
+    Love, the Pilgrim                                          7
+
+  ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM (1824-1889).
+    Lovely Mary Donnelly                                       9
+    Song                                                      13
+    Serenade                                                  14
+    Across the Sea                                            16
+
+  ARNOLD, SIR EDWIN (1832).
+    Serenade                                                  18
+    A Love Song of Henri Quatre                               20
+
+  ASHE, THOMAS (1836-1889).
+    No and Yes                                                22
+    At Altenahr                                               23
+    Marit                                                     24
+
+  AUSTIN, ALFRED (1835).
+    A Night in June                                           26
+
+  BEDDOES, THOMAS LOVELL (1803-1849).
+    Dream-Pedlary                                             30
+    Song from the Ship                                        33
+    Song                                                      34
+    Song                                                      35
+    Song, by Two Voices                                       36
+    Song                                                      38
+
+  BENNETT, WILLIAM COX (1820).
+    Cradle Song                                               39
+    My Roses blossom the Whole Year Round                     41
+    Cradle Song                                               42
+
+  BOURDILLON, F. W. (1852).
+    Love's Meinie                                             43
+    The Night has a Thousand Eyes                             44
+    A Lost Voice                                              45
+
+  BUCHANAN, ROBERT (1841).
+    Serenade                                                  46
+    Song                                                      48
+
+  COLLINS, MORTIMER (1827-1876).
+    To F. C.                                                  49
+    A Game of Chess                                           50
+    Multum in Parvo                                           52
+    Violets at Home                                           53
+    My Thrush                                                 54
+
+  CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK (1826-1887).
+    Too Late                                                  56
+    A Silly Song                                              58
+
+  DARLEY, GEORGE (1795-1846).
+    May Day                                                   60
+    I 've been Roaming                                        62
+    Sylvia's Song                                             63
+    Serenade                                                  64
+
+  DE TABLEY, LORD (1835).
+    A Winter Sketch                                           66
+    The Second Madrigal                                       69
+
+  DE VERE, AUBREY (1788-1846).
+    Song                                                      70
+    Song                                                      72
+    Song                                                      74
+
+  DICKENS, CHARLES (1812-1870).
+    The Ivy Green                                             75
+
+  DOBSON, AUSTIN (1840).
+    The Ladies of St. James's                                 77
+    The Milkmaid                                              81
+
+  DOMETT, ALFRED (1811-1887).
+    A Glee for Winter                                         84
+    A Kiss                                                    86
+
+  DUFFERIN, LADY (1807-1867).
+    Song                                                      88
+    Lament of the Irish Emigrant                              90
+
+  FIELD, MICHAEL.
+    Winds To-day are Large and Free                           94
+    Let us Wreathe the Mighty Cup                             96
+    Where Winds abound                                        97
+
+  GALE, NORMAN (1862).
+    A Song                                                    98
+    Song                                                      99
+
+  GOSSE, EDMUND (1849).
+    Song for the Lute                                        101
+
+  HOOD, THOMAS (1798-1845).
+    Ballad                                                   102
+    Song                                                     104
+    I Remember, I Remember                                   106
+    Ballad                                                   108
+    Song                                                     110
+
+  HOUGHTON, LORD (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES) (1809-1885).
+    The Brookside                                            111
+    The Venetian Serenade                                    113
+    From Love and Nature                                     115
+
+  INGELOW, JEAN (1830).
+    The Long White Seam                                      116
+    Love                                                     118
+    Sweet is Childhood                                       120
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES (1819-1875).
+    Airly Beacon                                             121
+    The Sands of Dee                                         122
+    Three Fishers went Sailing                               124
+    A Farewell                                               126
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE (1775-1864).
+    Rose Aylmer                                              127
+    Rubies                                                   128
+    The Fault is not Mine                                    129
+    Under the Lindens                                        130
+    Sixteen                                                  131
+    Ianthe                                                   132
+    One Lovely Name                                          133
+    Forsaken                                                 133
+
+  LOCKER-LAMPSON, FREDERICK (1821-1895).
+    A Garden Lyric                                           134
+    The Cuckoo                                               137
+    Gertrude's Necklace                                      139
+
+  LOVER, SAMUEL (1797-1868).
+    The Angel's Whisper                                      141
+    What will you do, Love?                                  143
+
+  MACKAY, CHARLES (1814-1889).
+    I Love my Love                                           145
+    O Ye Tears!                                              147
+
+  MAHONEY, FRANCIS (1805-1866).
+    The Bells of Shandon                                     149
+
+  MASSEY, GERALD (1828).
+    Song                                                     153
+
+  O'SHAUGHNESSY, ARTHUR (1844-1881).
+    A Love Symphony                                          156
+    I made Another Garden                                    158
+
+  PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE (1825-1864).
+    The Lost Chord                                           160
+    Sent to Heaven                                           162
+
+  PROCTER, B. W. (BARRY CORNWALL) (1787-1874).
+    The Poet's Song to his Wife                              165
+    A Petition to Time                                       167
+    A Bacchanalian Song                                      168
+    She was not Fair nor Full of Grace                       170
+    The Sea-King                                             172
+    A Serenade                                               174
+    King Death                                               176
+    Sit Down, Sad Soul                                       178
+    A Drinking Song                                          180
+    Peace! What do Tears Avail?                              182
+    The Sea                                                  184
+
+  ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA G. (1830-1895).
+    Song                                                     186
+    Song                                                     188
+    Song                                                     189
+    Three Seasons                                            190
+
+  ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL (1828-1882).
+    A Little While                                           191
+    Sudden Light                                             193
+    Three Shadows                                            194
+
+  SCOTT, WILLIAM BELL (1812-1890).
+    Parting and Meeting Again                                196
+
+  SKIPSEY, JOSEPH (1832).
+    A Merry Bee                                              198
+    The Songstress                                           199
+    The Violet and the Rose                                  200
+
+  STERRY, J. ASHBY.
+    Regrets                                                  201
+    Daisy's Dimples                                          203
+    A Lover's Lullaby                                        204
+
+  SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES (1837).
+    A Match                                                  205
+    Rondel                                                   208
+    Song                                                     209
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED (1809-1892).
+    The Bugle Song                                           210
+    Break, Break, Break                                      212
+    Tears, Idle Tears                                        213
+    Sweet and Low                                            215
+    Turn, Fortune, Turn thy Wheel                            216
+    Vivien's Song                                            217
+
+  THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE (1811-1863).
+    At the Church Gate                                       218
+    The Mahogany Tree                                        220
+
+  THORNBURY, GEORGE WALTER (1828-1876).
+    Dayrise and Sunset                                       223
+    The Three Troopers                                       225
+    The Cuckoo                                               228
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  AN INDEX TO FIRST LINES
+
+    Listen--Songs thou 'lt hear
+    Through the wide world ringing.
+
+        Barry Cornwall.
+
+
+                   Page
+
+  A baby was sleeping
+      _Samuel Lover_                                         141
+  "A cup for hope!" she said
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                190
+  A golden bee a-cometh
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       198
+  A little shadow makes the sunrise sad
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      52
+  A little while a little love
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               191
+  A thousand voices fill my ears
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      45
+  Across the grass I see her pass
+      _Austin Dobson_                                         81
+  Ah, what avails the sceptered race!
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 127
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     121
+  All glorious as the Rainbow's birth
+      _Gerald Massey_                                        153
+  All through the sultry hours of June
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      54
+  Along the garden ways just now
+      _Arthur O'Shaughnessy_                                 156
+  Although I enter not
+      _William Makepeace Thackeray_                          218
+  As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             139
+  As I came round the harbor buoy
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         116
+  Awake!--The starry midnight Hour
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     174
+  Awake thee, my Lady-love!
+      _George Darley_                                         64
+  Back flies my soul to other years
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       199
+  Break, break, break
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      212
+
+  Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           23
+  Christmas is here
+      _William Makepeace Thackeray_                          220
+  Come, rosy Day!
+      _Sir Edwin Arnold_                                      20
+  Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     172
+  Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas
+      _Dinah Maria Mulock Craik_                              56
+
+  Drink, and fill the night with mirth!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     180
+
+  Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold
+      _Hamilton Aide_                                          7
+
+  Fast falls the snow, O lady mine
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      49
+  First the fine, faint, dreamy motion
+      _Norman Gale_                                           98
+
+  Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow
+      _Alfred Domett_                                         84
+  How many Summers, love
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     165
+  How many times do I love thee, dear?
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 38
+
+  I bring a garland for your head
+      _Edmund Gosse_                                         101
+  I had a Message to send her
+      _Adelaide Anne Procter_                                162
+  I have been here before
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               193
+  I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         118
+  I looked and saw your eyes
+      _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_                               194
+  I made another garden, yea
+      _Arthur O'Shaughnessy_                                 158
+  I remember, I remember
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          106
+  I sat beside the streamlet
+      _Hamilton Aide_                                          3
+  I wandered by the brook-side
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        111
+  I walked in the lonesome evening
+      _William Allingham_                                     16
+  If I could choose my paradise
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           22
+  If love were what the rose is
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           205
+  If there were dreams to sell
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 30
+  I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary
+      _Lady Dufferin_                                         90
+  In Clementina's artless mien
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 131
+  In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      217
+  Into the Devil tavern
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              225
+  It was not in the winter
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          102
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+      _George Darley_                                         62
+
+  King Death was a rare old fellow!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     176
+  Kissing her hair I sat against her feet.
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           208
+
+  Lady! in this night of June
+      _Alfred Austin_                                         26
+  Last time I parted from my Dear
+      _William Bell Scott_                                   196
+  Let us wreathe the mighty cup
+      _Michael Field_                                         96
+  Little dimples so sweet and soft
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      203
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   42
+  Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear
+      _Sir Edwin Arnold_                                      18
+
+  Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      204
+  Mother, I can not mind my wheel
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 133
+  My fairest child, I have no song to give you
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     126
+  My goblet's golden lips are dry
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 34
+  My love, on a fair May morning
+      _Thomas Ashe_                                           24
+  My roses blossom the whole year round
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   41
+
+  O for the look of those pure gray eyes
+      _J. Ashby Sterry_                                      201
+  O happy buds of violet!
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      53
+  "O Heart, my heart!" she said, and heard
+      _Dinah Maria Mulock Craik_                              58
+  O lady, leave thy silken thread
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          104
+  O lips that mine have grown into
+      _Algernon Charles Swinburne_                           209
+  O Love is like the roses
+      _Robert Buchanan_                                       48
+  O May, thou art a merry time
+      _George Darley_                                         60
+  O roses for the flush of youth
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                188
+  O spirit of the Summertime!
+      _William Allingham_                                     13
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow
+      _Charles Mackay_                                       147
+  Often I have heard it said
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 128
+  Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green
+      _Charles Dickens_                                       75
+  Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear
+      _William Allingham_                                     14
+  Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by
+      _Hamilton Aide_                                          6
+  Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!
+      _William Allingham_                                      9
+  "Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home"
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     122
+  One lovely name adorns my song
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 133
+
+  Peace! what can tears avail?
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     182
+
+  Seated one day at the Organ
+      _Adelaide Anne Procter_                                160
+  Seek not the tree of silkiest bark
+      _Aubrey de Vere_                                        72
+  She was not fair, nor full of grace
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     170
+  She 's up and gone, the graceless Girl
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          108
+  Sing!--Who sings
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     168
+  Sit down, sad soul, and count
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     178
+  Sleep sweet, beloved one, sleep sweet!
+      _Robert Buchanan_                                       46
+  Sleep! the bird is in its nest
+      _William Cox Bennett_                                   39
+  Softly, O midnight Hours!
+      _Audrey de Vere_                                        70
+  Strew not earth with empty stars
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 35
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      215
+  Sweet is childhood--childhood 's over
+      _Jean Ingelow_                                         120
+  Sweet mouth! O let me take
+      _Alfred Domett_                                         86
+
+  Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      213
+  Terrace and lawn are white with frost
+      _Mortimer Collins_                                      50
+  Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 132
+  The fault is not mine if I love you too much
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 129
+  The ladies of St. James's
+      _Austin Dobson_                                         77
+  The night has a thousand eyes
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      44
+  The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     184
+  The splendour falls on castle walls
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      210
+  The stars are with the voyager
+      _Thomas Hood_                                          110
+  The streams that wind amid the hills
+      _George Darley_                                         63
+  The Sun came through the frosty mist
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        115
+  The Violet invited my kiss
+      _Joseph Skipsey_                                       200
+  There is no summer ere the swallows come.
+      _F. W. Bourdillon_                                      43
+  Three fishers went sailing away to the West
+      _Charles Kingsley_                                     124
+  To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 33
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+      _B. W. Procter_ (_Barry Cornwall_)                     167
+  Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud!
+      _Alfred Tennyson_                                      216
+  Two doves upon the selfsame branch
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                189
+
+  Under the lindens lately sat
+      _Walter Savage Landor_                                 130
+
+  Wait but a little while
+      _Norman Gale_                                           99
+  We have loiter'd and laugh'd in the flowery croft
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             134
+  We heard it calling, clear and low
+      _Frederick Locker-Lampson_                             137
+  What is the meaning of the song
+      _Charles Mackay_                                       145
+  "What will you do, love, when I am going"
+      _Samuel Lover_                                         143
+  When a warm and scented steam
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              228
+  When along the light ripple the far serenade
+      _Lord Houghton_                                        113
+  When another's voice thou hearest
+      _Lady Dufferin_                                         88
+  When I am dead, my dearest
+      _Christina G. Rossetti_                                186
+  When I was young, I said to Sorrow
+      _Aubrey de Vere_                                        74
+  When Spring casts all her swallows forth
+      _George Walter Thornbury_                              223
+  When the snow begins to feather
+      _Lord de Tabley_                                        66
+  Where winds abound
+      _Michael Field_                                         97
+  Who is the baby, that doth lie
+      _Thomas Lovell Beddoes_                                 36
+  Winds to-day are large and free
+      _Michael Field_                                         94
+  With deep affection
+      _Francis Mahoney_                                      149
+  Woo thy lass while May is here
+      _Lord de Tabley_                                        69
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+    Their songs wake singing echoes in my land.
+
+        Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low                     _Frontispiece_
+  "Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by"                     6
+  Across the Sea                                              16
+  "My love on a fair May morning"                             24
+  Song in the Garden                                          38
+  The night has a thousand eyes                               44
+  A Game of Chess                                             50
+  "I 've been roaming, I 've been roaming"                    62
+  "A maid I know,--and March winds blow"                      82
+  "That bright May morning long ago"                          90
+  "I remember, I remember"                                   106
+  I wandered by the brook-side                               112
+  "Three fishers went sailing away to the West"              124
+  Ianthe                                                     132
+  Gertrude's Necklace                                        140
+  "She turned back at the last to wait"                      158
+  King Death                                                 176
+  "I looked and saw your eyes"                               194
+  Break, Break, Break                                        212
+  "When Spring casts all her swallows forth"                 224
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION
+
+    The writer of prose, by intelligence taught,
+    Says the thing that will please, in the way that he ought.
+
+        Frederick Locker-Lampson.
+
+
+_No species of poetry is more ancient than the lyrical, and yet none
+shows so little sign of having outlived the requirements of human
+passion. The world may grow tired of epics and of tragedies, but each
+generation, as it sees the hawthorns blossom and the freshness of
+girlhood expand, is seized with a pang which nothing but the spasm of
+verse will relieve. Each youth imagines that spring-tide and love are
+wonders which he is the first of human beings to appreciate, and he
+burns to alleviate his emotion in rhyme. Historians exaggerate, perhaps,
+the function of music in awakening and guiding the exercise of lyrical
+poetry. The lyric exists, they tell us, as an accompaniment to the lyre;
+and without the mechanical harmony the spoken song is an artifice. Quite
+as plausibly might it be avowed that music was but added to verse to
+concentrate and emphasize its rapture, to add poignancy and volume to
+its expression. But the truth is that these two arts, though sometimes
+happily allied, are, and always have been, independent. When verse has
+been innocent enough to lean on music, we may be likely to find that
+music also has been of the simplest order, and that the pair of them,
+like two delicious children, have tottered and swayed together down the
+flowery meadows of experience. When either poetry or music is adult, the
+presence of each is a distraction to the other, and each prefers, in the
+elaborate ages, to stand alone, since the mystery of the one confounds
+the complexity of the other. Most poets hate music; few musicians
+comprehend the nature of poetry; and the combination of these arts has
+probably, in all ages, been contrived, not for the satisfaction of
+artists, but for the convenience of their public._
+
+_This divorce between poetry and music has been more frankly accepted in
+the present century than ever before, and is nowadays scarcely opposed
+in serious criticism. If music were a necessary ornament of lyrical
+verse, the latter would nowadays scarcely exist; but we hear less and
+less of the poets devotion (save in a purely conventional sense) to the
+lute and the pipe. What we call the Victorian lyric is absolutely
+independent of any such aid. It may be that certain songs of Tennyson
+and Christina Rossetti have been with great popularity "set," as it is
+called, "to music." So far as the latter is in itself successful, it
+stultifies the former; and we admit at last that the idea of one art
+aiding another in this combination is absolutely fictitious. The
+beauty--even the beauty of sound--conveyed by the ear in such lyrics as
+"Break, break, break," or "When I am dead, my dearest," is obscured, is
+exchanged for another and a rival species of beauty, by the most
+exquisite musical setting that a composer can invent._
+
+_The age which has been the first to accept this condition, then, should
+be rich in frankly lyrical poetry; and this we find to be the case with
+the Victorian period. At no time has a greater mass of this species of
+verse been produced, not even in the combined Elizabethan and Jacobean
+age. But when we come to consider the quality of this later harvest of
+song, we observe in it a far less homogeneous character. We can take a
+piece of verse, and decide at sight that it must be Elizabethan, or of
+the age of the Pleiade in France, or of a particular period in Italy.
+Even an ode of our own eighteenth century is hardly to be confounded
+with a fragment from any other school. The great Georgian age introduced
+a wide variety into English poetry; and yet we have but to examine the
+selected jewels strung into so exquisite a carcanet by Mr. Palgrave in
+his "Golden Treasury" to notice with surprise how close a family
+likeness exists between the contributions of Shelley, Wordsworth, Keats,
+and Byron. The distinctions of style, of course, are very great; but the
+general character of the diction, the imagery, even of the rhythm, is
+more or less identical. The stamp of the same age is upon them,--they
+are hall-marked 1820._
+
+_It is perhaps too early to decide that this will never be the case with
+the Victorian lyrics. While we live in an age we see the distinction of
+its parts, rather than their co-relation. It is said that the Japanese
+Government once sent over a Commission to report upon the art of Europe;
+and that, having visited the exhibitions of London, Paris, Florence, and
+Berlin, the Commissioners confessed that the works of the European
+painters all looked so exactly alike that it was difficult to
+distinguish one from another. The Japanese eye, trained in absolutely
+opposed conventions, could not tell the difference between a Watts and a
+Fortuny, a Theodore Rousseau and a Henry Moore. So it is quite possible,
+it is even probable, that future critics may see a close similarity
+where we see nothing but divergence between the various productions of
+the Victorian age. Yet we can judge but what we discern; and certainly
+to the critical eye to-day it is the absence of a central tendency, the
+chaotic cultivation of all contrivable varieties of style, which most
+strikingly seems to distinguish the times we live in._
+
+_We use the word "Victorian" in literature to distinguish what was
+written after the decline of that age of which Walter Scott, Coleridge,
+and Wordsworth were the survivors. It is well to recollect, however,
+that Tennyson, who is the Victorian writer_ par excellence, _had
+published the most individual and characteristic of his lyrics long
+before the Queen ascended the throne, and that Elizabeth Barrett, Henry
+Taylor, William Barnes, and others were by this date of mature age. It
+is difficult to remind ourselves, who have lived in the radiance of that
+august figure, that some of the most beautiful of Tennyson's lyrics,
+such as "Mariana" and "The Dying Swan" are now separated from us by as
+long a period of years as divided them from Dr. Johnson and the author
+of "Night Thoughts." The reflection is of value only as warning us of
+the extraordinary length of the epoch we still call "Victorian." It
+covers, not a mere generation, but much more than half a century. During
+this length of time a complete revolution in literary taste might have
+been expected to take place. This has not occurred, and the cause may
+very well be the extreme license permitted to the poets to adopt
+whatever style they pleased. Where all the doors stand wide open, there
+is no object in escaping; where there is but one door, and that one
+barred, it is human nature to fret for some violent means of evasion.
+How divine have been the methods of the Victorian lyrists may easily be
+exemplified_:--
+
+  _"Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife
+    To heart of neither wife nor maid,
+  Lead we not here a jolly life
+    Betwixt the shine and shade?_
+
+  _"Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife
+    To tongue of neither wife nor maid,
+  Thou wagg'st, but I am worn with strife,
+    And feel like flowers that fade."_
+
+_That is a masterpiece, but so is this:--_
+
+  _"Nay, but you who do not love her,
+    Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
+  Holds earth aught--speak truth--above her?
+    Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
+  And this last fairest tress of all,
+  --So fair, see, ere I let it fall?_
+
+  _"Because, you spend your lives in praisings,
+    To praise, you search the wide world over:
+  Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
+    If earth holds aught--speak truth--above her?
+  Above this tress, and this I touch,
+  But cannot praise, I love so much!"_
+
+_And so is this:--_
+
+  _"Under the wide and starry sky,
+  Dig the grave and let me lie.
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will._
+
+  _"This be the verse yon grave for me:
+  Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor, home from sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill."_
+
+_But who would believe that the writers of these were contemporaries?_
+
+_If we examine more closely the forms which lyric poetry has taken since
+1830, we shall find that certain influences at work in the minds of our
+leading writers have led to the widest divergence in the character of
+lyrical verse. It will be well, perhaps, to consider in turn the leading
+classes of that work. It was not to be expected that in an age of such
+complexity and self-consciousness as ours, the pure song, the simple
+trill of bird-like melody, should often or prominently be heard. As
+civilization spreads, it ceases to be possible, or at least it becomes
+less and less usual, that simple emotion should express itself with
+absolute naivete. Perhaps Burns was the latest poet in these islands
+whose passion warbled forth in perfectly artless strains; and he had the
+advantage of using a dialect still unsubdued and unvulgarized.
+Artlessness nowadays must be the result of the most exquisitely finished
+art; if not, it is apt to be insipid, if not positively squalid and
+fusty. The obvious uses of simple words have been exhausted; we cannot,
+save by infinite pains and the exercise of a happy genius, recover the
+old spontaneous air, the effect of an inevitable arrangement of the only
+possible words._
+
+_This beautiful direct simplicity, however, was not infrequently secured
+by Tennyson, and scarcely less often by Christina Rossetti, both of whom
+have left behind them jets of pure emotional melody which compare to
+advantage with the most perfect specimens of Greek and Elizabethan song.
+Tennyson did not very often essay this class of writing, but when he
+did, he rarely failed; his songs combine, with extreme naturalness and
+something of a familiar sweetness, a felicity of workmanship hardly to
+be excelled. In her best songs, Miss Rossetti is scarcely, if at all,
+his inferior; but her judgment was far less sure, and she was more ready
+to look with complacency on her failures. The songs of Mr. Aubrey de
+Vere are not well enough known; they are sometimes singularly charming.
+Other poets have once or twice succeeded in catching this clear natural
+treble,--the living linnet once captured in the elm, as Tusitala puts
+it; but this has not been a gift largely enjoyed by our Victorian
+poets._
+
+_The richer and more elaborate forms of lyric, on the contrary, have
+exactly suited this curious and learned age of ours. The species of
+verse which, originally Italian or French, have now so abundantly and so
+admirably been practised in England that we can no longer think of them
+as exotic, having found so many exponents in the Victorian period that
+they are pre-eminently characteristic of it. "Scorn not the Sonnet,"
+said Wordsworth to his contemporaries; but the lesson has not been
+needed in the second half of the century. The sonnet is the most solid
+and unsingable of the sections of lyrical poetry; it is difficult to
+think of it as chanted to a musical accompaniment. It is used with great
+distinction by writers to whom skill in the lighter divisions of poetry
+has been denied, and there are poets, such as Bowles and Charles
+Tennyson-Turner, who live by their sonnets alone. The practice of the
+sonnet has been so extended that all sense of monotony has been lost. A
+sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning differs from one by D. G. Rossetti
+or by Matthew Arnold to such excess as to make it difficult for us to
+realize that the form in each case is absolutely identical._
+
+_With the sonnet might be mentioned the lighter forms of elaborate
+exotic verse; but to these a word shall be given later on. More closely
+allied to the sonnet are those rich and somewhat fantastic
+stanza-measures in which Rossetti delighted. Those in which Keats and
+the Italians have each their part have been greatly used by the
+Victorian poets. They lend themselves to a melancholy magnificence, to
+pomp of movement and gorgeousness of color; the very sight of them gives
+the page the look of an ancient blazoned window. Poems of this class are
+"The Stream's Secret" and the choruses in "Love is enough." They satisfy
+the appetite of our time for subtle and vague analysis of emotion, for
+what appeals to the spirit through the senses; but here, again, in
+different hands, the "thing," the metrical instrument, takes wholly
+diverse characters, and we seek in vain for a formula that can include
+Robert Browning and Gabriel Rossetti, William Barnes and Arthur Hugh
+Clough._
+
+_From this highly elaborated and extended species of lyric the
+transition is easy to the Ode. In the Victorian age, the ode, in its
+full Pindaric sense, has not been very frequently used. We have
+specimens by Mr. Swinburne in which the Dorian laws are closely adhered
+to. But the ode, in a more or less irregular form, whether paean or
+threnody, has been the instrument of several of our leading lyrists. The
+genius of Mr. Swinburne, even to a greater degree than that of Shelley,
+is essentially dithyrambic, and is never happier than when it spreads
+its wings as wide as those of the wild swan, and soars upon the very
+breast of tempest. In these flights Mr. Swinburne attains to a volume of
+sonorous melody such as no other poet, perhaps, of the world has
+reached, and we may say to him, as he has shouted to the Mater
+Triumphalis:--_
+
+  _"Darkness to daylight shall lift up thy paean,
+    Hill to hill thunder, vale cry back to vale,
+  With wind-notes as of eagles AEschylean,
+    And Sappho singing in the nightingale."_
+
+_Nothing could mark more picturesquely the wide diversity permitted in
+Victorian lyric than to turn from the sonorous and tumultuous odes of
+Mr. Swinburne to those of Mr. Patmore, in which stateliness of
+contemplation and a peculiar austerity of tenderness find their
+expression in odes of iambic cadence, the melody of which depends, not
+in their headlong torrent of sound, but in the cunning variation of
+catalectic pause. A similar form has been adopted by Lord De Tabley for
+many of his gorgeous studies of antique myth, and by Tennyson for his
+"Death of the Duke of Wellington." It is an error to call these iambic
+odes "irregular," although they do not follow the classic rules with
+strophe, antistrophe, and epode. The enchanting "I have led her
+home," in "Maud," is an example of this kind of lyric at its highest
+point of perfection._
+
+_A branch of lyrical poetry which has been very widely cultivated in the
+Victorian age is the philosophical, or gnomic, in which a serious chain
+of thought, often illustrated by complex and various imagery, is held in
+a casket of melodious verse, elaborately rhymed. Matthew Arnold was a
+master of this kind of poetry, which takes its form, through Wordsworth,
+from the solemn and so-called "metaphysical" writers of the seventeenth
+century. We class this interesting and abundant section of verse with
+the lyrical, because we know not by what other name to describe it; yet
+it has obviously as little as possible of the singing ecstasy about it.
+It neither pours its heart out in a rapture, nor wails forth its
+despair. It has as little of the nightingale's rich melancholy as of the
+lark's delirium. It hardly sings, but, with infinite decorum and
+sobriety, speaks its melodious message to mankind. This sort of
+philosophical poetry is really critical; its function is to analyze and
+describe; and it approaches, save for the enchantment of its form,
+nearer to prose than do the other sections of the art. It is, however,
+just this species of poetry which has particularly appealed to the age
+in which we live; and how naturally it does so may be seen in the
+welcome extended to the polished and serene compositions of Mr. William
+Watson._
+
+_Almost a creation, or at least a complete conquest, of the Victorian
+age is the humorous lyric in its more delicate developments. If the past
+can point to Prior and to Praed, we can boast, in their various
+departments, of Calverly, of Locker-Lampson, of Mr. Andrew Lang, of
+Mr. W. S. Gilbert. The comic muse, indeed, has marvellously extended her
+blandishments during the last two generations, and has discovered
+methods of trivial elegance which were quite unknown to our forefathers.
+Here must certainly be said a word in favor of those French forms of
+verse, all essentially lyrical, such as the ballad, the rondel, the
+triolet, which have been used so abundantly as to become quite a feature
+in our lighter literature. These are not, or are but rarely, fitted to
+bear the burden of high emotion; but their precision, and the deftness
+which their use demands fit them exceedingly well for the more
+distinguished kind of persiflage. No one has kept these delicate
+butterflies in flight with the agile movement of his fan so admirably as
+Mr. Austin Dobson, that neatest of magicians._
+
+_Those who write hastily of Victorian lyrical poetry are apt to find
+fault with its lack of spontaneity. It is true that we cannot pretend to
+discover on a greensward so often crossed and re-crossed as the poetic
+language of England many morning dewdrops still glistening on the
+grasses. We have to pay the penalty of our experience in a certain lack
+of innocence. The artless graces of a child seem mincing affectations in
+a grown-up woman. But the poetry of this age has amply made up for any
+lack of innocence by its sumptuous fulness, its variety, its magnificent
+accomplishment, its felicitous response to a multitude of moods and
+apprehensions. It has struck out no new field for itself; it still
+remains where the romantic revolution of 1798 placed it; its aims are
+not other than were those of Coleridge and of Keats. But within that
+defined sphere it has developed a surprising activity. It has occupied
+the attention and become the facile instrument of men of the greatest
+genius, writers of whom any age and any language might be proud. It has
+been tender and fiery, severe and voluminous, gorgeous and marmoreal, in
+turns. It has translated into words feelings so subtle, so transitory,
+moods so fragile and intangible, that the rough hand of prose would but
+have crushed them. And this, surely, indicates the great gift of
+Victorian lyrical poetry to the race. During a time of extreme mental
+and moral restlessness, a time of speculation and evolution, when all
+illusions are tested, all conventions overthrown, when the harder
+elements of life have been brought violently to the front, and where
+there is a temptation for the emancipated mind roughly to reject what is
+not material and obvious, this art has preserved intact the lovelier
+delusions of the spirit, all that is vague and incorporeal and illusory.
+So that for Victorian Lyric generally no better final definition can be
+given than is supplied by Mr. Robert Bridges in a little poem of
+incomparable beauty, which may fitly bring this essay to a close:--_
+
+  _"I have loved flowers that fade,
+    Within whose magic tents
+  Rich hues have marriage made
+    With sweet immemorial scents:
+  A joy of love at sight,--
+  A honeymoon delight,
+  That ages in an hour:--
+  My song be like a flower._
+
+  _"I have loved airs that die
+    Before their charm is writ
+  Upon the liquid sky
+    Trembling to welcome it.
+  Notes that with pulse of fire
+  Proclaim the spirit's desire,
+  Then die, and are nowhere:--
+  My song be like an air."_
+
+    Edmund Gosse.
+
+
+
+
+  Victorian Songs
+
+    "Short swallow-flights of song"
+
+      TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  HAMILTON AIDE.
+
+  1830.
+
+
+  _REMEMBER OR FORGET._
+
+  I.
+
+  I sat beside the streamlet,
+    I watched the water flow,
+  As we together watched it
+    One little year ago;
+  The soft rain pattered on the leaves,
+    The April grass was wet,
+  Ah! folly to remember;--
+    'T is wiser to forget.
+
+  II.
+
+  The nightingales made vocal
+    June's palace paved with gold;
+  I watched the rose you gave me
+    Its warm red heart unfold;
+  But breath of rose and bird's song
+    Were fraught with wild regret.
+  'T is madness to remember;
+    'T were wisdom to forget.
+
+  III.
+
+  I stood among the gold corn,
+    Alas! no more, I knew,
+  To gather gleaner's measure
+    Of the love that fell from you.
+  For me, no gracious harvest--
+    Would God we ne'er had met!
+  'T is hard, Love, to remember, but
+    'T is harder to forget.
+
+  IV.
+
+  The streamlet now is frozen,
+    The nightingales are fled,
+  The cornfields are deserted,
+    And every rose is dead.
+  I sit beside my lonely fire,
+    And pray for wisdom yet--
+  For calmness to remember
+    Or courage to forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _OH, LET ME DREAM._
+
+  FROM "A NINE DAYS' WONDER."
+
+  Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by,
+    Forgetting sorrows that have come between,
+  As sunlight gilds some distant summit high,
+    And leaves the valleys dark that intervene.
+  The phantoms of remorse that haunt
+    The soul, are laid beneath that spell;
+  As, in the music of a chaunt
+    Is lost the tolling of a bell.
+      Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by, etc.
+
+  In youth, we plucked full many a flower that died,
+    Dropped on the pathway, as we danced along;
+  And now, we cherish each poor leaflet dried
+    In pages which to that dear past belong.
+  With sad crushed hearts they yet retain
+    Some semblance of their glories fled;
+  Like us, whose lineaments remain,
+    When all the fires of life are dead.
+              Oh! let me dream, etc.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  _LOVE, THE PILGRIM._
+
+  SUGGESTED BY A SKETCH BY E. BURNE-JONES.
+
+  Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold,
+    When the night and morning meet,
+  Entereth the slumbering city,
+    Stealeth down the silent street;
+  Lingereth round some battered doorway,
+    Leaves unblest some portal grand,
+  And the walls, where sleep the children,
+    Toucheth, with his warm young hand.
+      Love is passing! Love is passing!--
+        Passing while ye lie asleep:
+      In your blessed dreams, O children,
+        Give him all your hearts to keep!
+
+  Blindfold is this Pilgrim, Maiden.
+    Though to-day he touched thy door,
+  He may pass it by to-morrow--
+    --Pass it--to return no more.
+  Let us then with prayers entreat him,--
+    Youth! her heart, whose coldness grieves,
+  May one morn by Love be softened;
+    Prize the treasure that he leaves.
+      Love is passing! Love is passing!
+        All, with hearts to hope and pray,
+      Bid this pilgrim touch the lintels
+        Of your doorways every day.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
+
+  1824-1889.
+
+
+  _LOVELY MARY DONNELLY._
+
+  Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best!
+  If fifty girls were round you, I 'd hardly see the rest;
+  Be what it may the time o' day, the place be where it will,
+  Sweet looks o' Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still.
+
+  Her eyes like mountain water that 's flowing on a rock,
+  How clear they are, how dark they are! they give me many a shock;
+  Red rowans warm in sunshine and wetted with a show'r,
+  Could ne'er express the charming lip that has me in its pow'r.
+
+  Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows lifted up,
+  Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like a china cup,
+  Her hair 's the brag of Ireland, so weighty and so fine;
+  It 's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered in a twine.
+
+  The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded all before,
+  No pretty girl for miles about was missing from the floor;
+  But Mary kept the belt o' love, and O but she was gay!
+  She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my heart away.
+
+  When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete
+  The music nearly kill'd itself to listen to her feet;
+  The fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her so much praised,
+  But bless'd his luck to not be deaf when once her voice she raised.
+
+  And evermore I 'm whistling or lilting what you sung,
+  Your smile is always in my heart, your name beside my tongue;
+  But you 've as many sweethearts as you 'd count on both your hands,
+  And for myself there 's not a thumb or little finger stands.
+
+  'T is you 're the flower o' womankind in country or in town;
+  The higher I exalt you, the lower I 'm cast down.
+  If some great lord should come this way, and see your beauty bright,
+  And you to be his lady, I 'd own it was but right.
+
+  O might we live together in a lofty palace hall,
+  Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall!
+  O might we live together in a cottage mean and small,
+  With sods o' grass the only roof, and mud the only wall!
+
+  O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty 's my distress.
+  It 's far too beauteous to be mine, but I 'll never wish it less.
+  The proudest place would fit your face, and I am poor and low;
+  But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you may go!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O spirit of the Summertime!
+    Bring back the roses to the dells;
+  The swallow from her distant clime,
+    The honey-bee from drowsy cells.
+
+  Bring back the friendship of the sun;
+    The gilded evenings, calm and late,
+  When merry children homeward run,
+    And peeping stars bid lovers wait.
+
+  Bring back the singing; and the scent
+    Of meadowlands at dewy prime;--
+  Oh, bring again my heart's content,
+    Thou Spirit of the Summertime!
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear,
+  The while we dare to call thee dear,
+  So may thy dreams be good, altho'
+  The loving power thou dost not know.
+  As music parts the silence,--lo!
+  Through heaven the stars begin to peep,
+    To comfort us that darkling pine
+    Because those fairer lights of thine
+  Have set into the Sea of Sleep.
+  Yet closed still thine eyelids keep;
+  And may our voices through the sphere
+    Of Dreamland all as softly rise
+  As through these shadowy rural dells,
+  Where bashful Echo somewhere dwells,
+  And touch thy spirit to as soft replies.
+  May peace from gentle guardian skies,
+  Till watches of the dark are worn,
+  Surround thy bed, and joyous morn
+    Makes all the chamber rosy bright!
+  Good-night!--From far-off fields is borne
+  The drowsy Echo's faint 'Good-night,'--
+    Good-night! Good-night!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _ACROSS THE SEA._
+
+    I walked in the lonesome evening,
+      And who so sad as I,
+    When I saw the young men and maidens
+      Merrily passing by.
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  While the ripples fold upon sands of gold,
+        And I look across the sea.
+
+    I stretch out my hands; who will clasp them?
+      I call,--thou repliest no word.
+    Oh, why should heart-longing be weaker
+      Than the waving wings of a bird!
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  For the tide 's at rest from east to west,
+        And I look across the sea.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+    There 's joy in the hopeful morning,
+      There 's peace in the parting day,
+    There 's sorrow with every lover
+      Whose true love is far away.
+        To thee, my Love, to thee--
+        So fain would I come to thee!
+  And the water 's bright in a still moonlight,
+        As I look across the sea.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
+
+  1832.
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear,
+    Sing while she sleeps, "Ah! belle dame, aimez-vous?"
+  Till, dreaming still, she dream that I am here,
+    And wake to find it, as my love is, true;
+  Then, when she listens in her warm white nest,
+    Say in slow music,--softer, tenderer yet,
+  That lute-strings quiver when their tone 's at rest,
+    And my heart trembles when my lips are set.
+
+  Stars! if my sweet love still a-dreaming lies,
+    Shine through the roses for a lover's sake
+  And send your silver to her lidded eyes,
+    Kissing them very gently till she wake;
+  Then while she wonders at the lay and light,
+    Tell her, though morning endeth star and song,
+  That ye live still, when no star glitters bright,
+    And my love lasteth, though it finds no tongue.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A LOVE SONG OF HENRI QUATRE._
+
+        Come, rosy Day!
+        Come quick--I pray--
+  I am so glad when I thee see!
+        Because my Fair,
+        Who is so dear,
+  Is rosy-red and white like thee.
+
+        She lives, I think,
+        On heavenly drink
+  Dawn-dew, which Hebe pours for her;
+        Else--when I sip
+        At her soft lip
+  How smells it of ambrosia?
+
+        She is so fair
+        None can compare;
+  And, oh, her slender waist divine!
+        Her sparkling eyes
+        Set in the skies
+  The morning stars would far outshine!
+
+        Only to hear
+        Her voice so clear
+  The village gathers in the street;
+        And Tityrus,
+        Grown one of us,
+  Leaves piping on his flute so sweet.
+
+        The Graces three,
+        Where'er she be,
+  Call all the Loves to flutter nigh;
+        And what she 'll say,--
+        Speak when she may,--
+  Is full of sense and majesty!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS ASHE.
+
+  1836-1889.
+
+
+  _NO AND YES._
+
+  If I could choose my paradise,
+    And please myself with choice of bliss,
+  Then I would have your soft blue eyes
+    And rosy little mouth to kiss!
+  Your lips, as smooth and tender, child,
+  As rose-leaves in a coppice wild.
+
+  If fate bade choose some sweet unrest,
+    To weave my troubled life a snare,
+  Then I would say "her maiden breast
+    And golden ripple of her hair;"
+  And weep amid those tresses, child,
+  Contented to be thus beguiled.
+
+
+  _AT ALTENAHR._
+
+  1872.
+
+  _Meet we no angels, Pansie?_
+
+  Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,
+    In white, to find her lover;
+  The grass grew proud beneath her feet,
+    The green elm-leaves above her:--
+      Meet we no angels, Pansie?
+
+  She said, "We meet no angels now;"
+    And soft lights streamed upon her;
+  And with white hand she touched a bough;
+    She did it that great honour:--
+      What! meet no angels, Pansie?
+
+  O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes
+    Down-dropped brown eyes so tender!
+  Then what said I?--Gallant replies
+    Seem flattery, and offend her:--
+      But,--meet no angels, Pansie?
+
+
+  _MARIT._
+
+  1869-70.
+
+  _C'est un songe que d'y penser._
+
+  My love, on a fair May morning,
+    Would weave a garland of May:
+  The dew hung frore, as her foot tripped o'er
+    The grass at dawn of the day;
+  On leaf and stalk, in each green wood-walk,
+    Till the sun should charm it away.
+
+  Green as a leaf her kirtle,
+    Her bodice red as a rose:
+  Her white bare feet went softly and sweet
+    By roots where the violet grows;
+  Where speedwells azure as heaven,
+    Their sleepy eyes half close.
+
+  O'er arms as fair as the lilies
+    No sleeve my love drew on:
+  She found a bower of the wildrose flower,
+    And for her breast culled one:
+  And I laugh and know her breasts will grow
+    Or ever a year be gone.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  O sweet dream, wrought of a dear fore-thought,
+    Of a golden time to fall!
+  She seemed to sing, in her wandering,
+    Till doves in the elm-tops tall
+  Grew mute to hear; as her song rang clear
+    How love is the lord of all.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED AUSTIN.
+
+  1835.
+
+
+  _A NIGHT IN JUNE._
+
+  Lady! in this night of June,
+    Fair like thee and holy,
+  Art thou gazing at the moon
+    That is rising slowly?
+      I am gazing on her now:
+      Something tells me, so art thou.
+
+  Night hath been when thou and I
+    Side by side were sitting,
+  Watching o'er the moonlit sky
+    Fleecy cloudlets flitting.
+      Close our hands were linked then;
+      When will they be linked again?
+
+  What to me the starlight still,
+    Or the moonbeams' splendour,
+  If I do not feel the thrill
+    Of thy fingers slender?
+      Summer nights in vain are clear,
+      If thy footstep be not near.
+
+  Roses slumbering in their sheaths
+    O'er my threshold clamber,
+  And the honeysuckle wreathes
+    Its translucent amber
+      Round the gables of my home:
+      How is it thou dost not come?
+
+  If thou camest, rose on rose
+    From its sleep would waken;
+  From each flower and leaf that blows
+    Spices would be shaken;
+      Floating down from star and tree,
+      Dreamy perfumes welcome thee.
+
+  I would lead thee where the leaves
+    In the moon-rays glisten;
+  And, where shadows fall in sheaves,
+    We would lean and listen
+      For the song of that sweet bird
+      That in April nights is heard.
+
+  And when weary lids would close,
+    And thy head was drooping,
+  Then, like dew that steeps the rose,
+    O'er thy languor stooping,
+      I would, till I woke a sigh,
+      Kiss thy sweet lips silently.
+
+  I would give thee all I own,
+    All thou hast would borrow,
+  I from thee would keep alone
+    Fear and doubt and sorrow.
+      All of tender that is mine
+      Should most tenderly be thine.
+
+  Moonlight! into other skies,
+    I beseech thee wander.
+  Cruel thus to mock mine eyes,
+    Idle, thus to squander
+      Love's own light on this dark spot;--
+      For my lady cometh not!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES.
+
+  1803-1849.
+
+
+  _DREAM-PEDLARY._
+
+  I.
+
+  If there were dreams to sell,
+    What would you buy?
+  Some cost a passing bell;
+    Some a light sigh,
+  That shakes from Life's fresh crown
+  Only a rose-leaf down.
+  If there were dreams to sell,
+  Merry and sad to tell,
+  And the crier rung the bell,
+    What would you buy?
+
+  II.
+
+  A cottage lone and still,
+    With bowers nigh,
+  Shadowy, my woes to still,
+    Until I die.
+  Such pearl from Life's fresh crown
+  Fain would I shake me down.
+  Were dreams to have at will,
+  This would best heal my ill,
+    This would I buy.
+
+  III.
+
+  But there were dreams to sell
+    Ill didst thou buy;
+  Life is a dream, they tell,
+    Waking, to die.
+  Dreaming a dream to prize,
+  Is wishing ghosts to rise;
+    And, if I had the spell
+    To call the buried well,
+      Which one would I?
+
+  IV.
+
+  If there are ghosts to raise,
+    What shall I call,
+  Out of hell's murky haze,
+    Heaven's blue pall?
+  Raise my loved long-lost boy
+  To lead me to his joy.--
+    There are no ghosts to raise;
+    Out of death lead no ways;
+      Vain is the call.
+
+  V.
+
+  Know'st thou not ghosts to sue
+    No love thou hast.
+  Else lie, as I will do,
+    And breathe thy last.
+  So out of Life's fresh crown
+  Fall like a rose-leaf down.
+    Thus are the ghosts to woo;
+    Thus are all dreams made true,
+      Ever to last!
+
+
+  _SONG FROM THE SHIP._
+
+  FROM "DEATH'S JEST-BOOK."
+
+  To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er;
+    The wanton water leaps in sport,
+  And rattles down the pebbly shore;
+    The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,
+  And unseen Mermaids' pearly song
+  Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.
+    Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:
+    To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er.
+
+  To sea, to sea! Our wide-winged bark
+    Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,
+  And with its shadow, fleet and dark,
+    Break the caved Tritons' azure day,
+  Like mighty eagle soaring light
+  O'er antelopes on Alpine height.
+    The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,
+    The sails swell full. To sea, to sea!
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  My goblet's golden lips are dry,
+    And, as the rose doth pine
+    For dew, so doth for wine
+      My goblet's cup;
+  Rain, O! rain, or it will die;
+      Rain, fill it up!
+
+  Arise, and get thee wings to-night,
+    AEtna! and let run o'er
+    Thy wines, a hill no more,
+      But darkly frown
+  A cloud, where eagles dare not soar,
+      Dropping rain down.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "THE SECOND BROTHER."
+
+  Strew not earth with empty stars,
+    Strew it not with roses,
+  Nor feathers from the crest of Mars,
+    Nor summer's idle posies.
+  'T is not the primrose-sandalled moon,
+    Nor cold and silent morn,
+  Nor he that climbs the dusty noon,
+  Nor mower war with scythe that drops,
+  Stuck with helmed and turbaned tops
+    Of enemies new shorn.
+  Ye cups, ye lyres, ye trumpets know,
+  Pour your music, let it flow,
+  'T is Bacchus' son who walks below.
+
+
+  _SONG, BY TWO VOICES._
+
+  FROM "THE BRIDES' TRAGEDY."
+
+  FIRST VOICE.
+
+  Who is the baby, that doth lie
+  Beneath the silken canopy
+  Of thy blue eye?
+
+  SECOND.
+
+  It is young Sorrow, laid asleep
+  In the crystal deep.
+
+  BOTH.
+
+  Let us sing his lullaby,
+  Heigho! a sob and a sigh.
+
+  FIRST VOICE.
+
+  What sound is that, so soft, so clear,
+  Harmonious as a bubbled tear
+  Bursting, we hear?
+
+  SECOND.
+
+  It is young Sorrow, slumber breaking,
+  Suddenly awaking.
+
+  BOTH.
+
+  Let us sing his lullaby,
+  Heigho! a sob and a sigh.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "TORRISMOND."
+
+  How many times do I love thee, dear?
+    Tell me how many thoughts there be
+      In the atmosphere
+      Of a new-fall'n year,
+  Whose white and sable hours appear
+    The latest flake of Eternity:--
+  So many times do I love thee, dear.
+
+  How many times do I love again?
+    Tell me how many beads there are
+      In a silver chain
+      Of evening rain,
+  Unravelled from the tumbling main,
+    And threading the eye of a yellow star:--
+  So many times do I love again.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM COX BENNETT.
+
+  1820
+
+
+  _CRADLE SONG._
+
+  Sleep! the bird is in its nest;
+  Sleep! the bee is hushed in rest;
+  Sleep! rocked on thy mother's breast!
+          Lullaby!
+  To thy mother's fond heart pressed,
+          Lullaby!
+
+  Sleep! the waning daylight dies;
+  Sleep! the stars dream in the skies;
+  Daisies long have closed their eyes;
+          Lullaby!
+  Calm, how calm on all things lies!
+          Lullaby!
+
+  Sleep then, sleep! my heart's delight!
+  Sleep! and through the darksome night
+  Round thy bed God's angels bright
+          Lullaby!
+  Guard thee till I come with light!
+          Lullaby!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _MY ROSES BLOSSOM THE WHOLE YEAR ROUND._
+
+  My roses blossom the whole year round;
+  For, O they grow on enchanted ground;
+      Divine is the earth
+      Where they spring to birth;
+  On dimpling cheeks with love and mirth,
+        They 're found
+      They 're ever found.
+
+  My lilies no change of seasons heed;
+  Nor shelter from storms or frosts they need;
+      For, O they grow
+      On a neck of snow,
+  Nor all the wintry blasts that blow
+        They heed,
+      They ever heed.
+
+
+  _CRADLE SONG._
+
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+  Baby, hush that little cry!
+        Light is dying,
+        Bats are flying,
+  Bees to-day with work have done;
+  So, till comes the morrow's sun,
+  Let sleep kiss those bright eyes dry!
+        Lullaby! O lullaby!
+
+  Lullaby! O lullaby!
+  Hushed are all things far and nigh;
+        Flowers are closing,
+        Birds reposing,
+  All sweet things with life have done;
+  Sweet, till dawns the morning sun,
+  Sleep then kiss those blue eyes dry!
+        Lullaby! O lullaby!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  F. W. BOURDILLON.
+
+  1852.
+
+
+  _LOVE'S MEINIE._
+
+  There is no summer ere the swallows come,
+        Nor Love appears,
+  Till Hope, Love's light-winged herald, lifts the gloom
+        Of years.
+
+  There is no summer left when swallows fly,
+        And Love at last,
+  When hopes which filled its heaven droop and die,
+        Is past.
+
+
+  _THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES._
+
+  The night has a thousand eyes,
+    And the day but one;
+  Yet the light of the bright world dies
+    With the dying sun.
+
+  The mind has a thousand eyes,
+    And the heart but one;
+  Yet the light of a whole life dies
+    When love is done.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  _A LOST VOICE._
+
+  A thousand voices fill my ears
+    All day until the light grows pale;
+  But silence falls when night-time nears,
+    And where art thou, sweet nightingale?
+
+  Was that thine echo, faint and far?
+    Nay, all is hushed as heaven above;
+  In earth no voice, in heaven no star,
+    And in my heart no dream of love.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  Sleep sweet, beloved one, sleep sweet!
+    Without here night is growing,
+  The dead leaf falls, the dark boughs meet,
+    And a chill wind is blowing.
+  Strange shapes are stirring in the night,
+    To the deep breezes wailing,
+  And slow, with wistful gleams of light,
+    The storm-tost moon is sailing.
+
+  Sleep sweet, beloved one, sleep sweet!
+    Fold thy white hands, my blossom!
+  Thy warm limbs in thy lily sheet,
+    Thy hands upon thy bosom.
+  Though evil thoughts may walk the dark,
+    Not one shall near thy chamber;
+  But shapes divine shall pause to mark,
+    Singing to lutes of amber.
+
+  Sleep sweet, beloved one, sleep sweet!
+    Though, on thy bosom creeping,
+  Strange hands are laid, to feel the beat
+    Of thy soft heart in sleeping.
+  The brother angels, Sleep and Death,
+    Stop by thy couch and eye thee;
+  And Sleep stoops down to drink thy breath,
+    While Death goes softly by thee!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "LOVE IN WINTER."
+
+  "O Love is like the roses,
+    And every rose shall fall,
+  For sure as summer closes
+    They perish one and all.
+  Then love, while leaves are on the tree,
+    And birds sing in the bowers:
+  When winter comes, too late 't will be
+    To pluck the happy flowers."
+
+  "O Love is like the roses,
+    Love comes, and Love must flee!
+  Before the summer closes
+    Love's rapture and Love's glee!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  MORTIMER COLLINS.
+
+  1827-1876.
+
+
+  _TO F. C._
+
+  20th February 1875.
+
+  Fast falls the snow, O lady mine,
+  Sprinkling the lawn with crystals fine,
+  But by the gods we won't repine
+        While we 're together,
+  We 'll chat and rhyme and kiss and dine,
+        Defying weather.
+
+  So stir the fire and pour the wine,
+  And let those sea-green eyes divine
+  Pour their love-madness into mine:
+        I don't care whether
+  'T is snow or sun or rain or shine
+        If we 're together.
+
+
+  _A GAME OF CHESS._
+
+  Terrace and lawn are white with frost,
+    Whose fretwork flowers upon the panes--
+  A mocking dream of summer, lost
+        'Mid winter's icy chains.
+
+  White-hot, indoors, the great logs gleam,
+    Veiled by a flickering flame of blue:
+  I see my love as in a dream--
+        Her eyes are azure, too.
+
+  She puts her hair behind her ears
+    (Each little ear so like a shell),
+  Touches her ivory Queen, and fears
+        She is not playing well.
+
+  For me, I think of nothing less:
+    I think how those pure pearls become her--
+  And which is sweetest, winter chess
+        Or garden strolls in summer.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  O linger, frost, upon the pane!
+    O faint blue flame, still softly rise!
+  O, dear one, thus with me remain,
+        That I may watch thine eyes!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _MULTUM IN PARVO._
+
+  A little shadow makes the sunrise sad,
+    A little trouble checks the race of joy,
+  A little agony may drive men mad,
+    A little madness may the soul destroy:
+        Such is the world's annoy.
+
+  Ay, and the rose is but a little flower
+    Which the red Queen of all the garden is:
+  And Love, which lasteth but a little hour,
+    A moment's rapture and a moment's kiss,
+        Is what no man would miss.
+
+
+  _VIOLETS AT HOME._
+
+  I.
+
+  O happy buds of violet!
+    I give thee to my sweet, and she
+  Puts them where something sweeter yet
+          Must always be.
+
+  II.
+
+  White violets find whiter rest:
+    For fairest flowers how fair a fate!
+  For me remain, O fragrant breast!
+          Inviolate.
+
+
+  _MY THRUSH._
+
+  All through the sultry hours of June,
+  From morning blithe to golden noon,
+    And till the star of evening climbs
+  The gray-blue East, a world too soon,
+    There sings a Thrush amid the limes.
+
+  God's poet, hid in foliage green,
+  Sings endless songs, himself unseen;
+    Right seldom come his silent times.
+  Linger, ye summer hours serene!
+    Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes.
+
+  .     .     .     .     .     .     .
+
+  May I not dream God sends thee there,
+  Thou mellow angel of the air,
+    Even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes
+  With music's soul, all praise and prayer?
+    Is that thy lesson in the limes?
+
+  Closer to God art thou than I:
+  His minstrel thou, whose brown wings fly
+    Through silent aether's sunnier climes.
+  Ah, never may thy music die!
+    Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK.
+
+  1826-1887.
+
+
+  _TOO LATE._
+
+    _"Dowglas, Dowglas, tendir and treu."_
+
+  Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+    In the old likeness that I knew,
+  I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
+    I 'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do;--
+  Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  O to call back the days that are not!
+    My eyes were blinded, your words were few:
+  Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?
+
+  I never was worthy of you, Douglas;
+    Not half worthy the like of you:
+  Now all men beside seem to me like shadows--
+    I love _you_, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
+    Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;
+  As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
+    Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A SILLY SONG._
+
+  "O heart, my heart!" she said, and heard
+        His mate the blackbird calling,
+  While through the sheen of the garden green
+        May rain was softly falling,--
+        Aye softly, softly falling.
+
+  The buttercups across the field
+        Made sunshine rifts of splendour:
+  The round snow-bud of the thorn in the wood
+        Peeped through its leafage tender,
+        As the rain came softly falling.
+
+  "O heart, my heart!" she said and smiled,
+        "There 's not a tree of the valley,
+  Or a leaf I wis which the rain's soft kiss
+        Freshens in yonder alley,
+        Where the drops keep ever falling,--
+
+  "There 's not a foolish flower i' the grass,
+        Or bird through the woodland calling,
+  So glad again of the coming rain
+        As I of these tears now falling,--
+        These happy tears down falling."
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GEORGE DARLEY.
+
+  1795-1846.
+
+
+  _MAY DAY._
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act III. Scene ii_.
+
+  O may, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  When lasses and their lovers meet
+    Beneath the early village-thorn,
+  And to the sound of tabor sweet
+    Bid welcome to the Maying-morn!
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  When grey-beards and their gossips come
+    With crutch in hand our sports to see,
+  And both go tottering, tattling home,
+    Topful of wine as well as glee!
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+  But Youth was aye the time for bliss,
+    So taste it, Shepherds! while ye may:
+  For who can tell that joy like this
+    Will come another holiday?
+
+  O May, thou art a merry time,
+    Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
+  When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
+    And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
+
+
+  _I'VE BEEN ROAMING._
+
+  FROM "LILIAN OF THE VALE."
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Where the meadow dew is sweet,
+  And like a queen I 'm coming
+    With its pearls upon my feet.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    O'er red rose and lily fair,
+  And like a sylph I 'm coming
+    With their blossoms in my hair.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Where the honeysuckle creeps,
+  And like a bee I 'm coming
+    With its kisses on my lips.
+
+  I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
+    Over hill and over plain,
+  And like a bird I 'm coming
+    To my bower back again!
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _SYLVIA'S SONG._
+
+  The streams that wind amid the hills
+    And lost in pleasure slowly roam,
+  While their deep joy the valley fills,--
+    Even these will leave their mountain home;
+      So may it, Love! with others be,
+      But I will never wend from thee.
+
+  The leaf forsakes the parent spray,
+    The blossom quits the stem as fast;
+  The rose-enamour'd bird will stray
+    And leave his eglantine at last:
+      So may it, Love! with others be,
+      But I will never wend from thee.
+
+
+  _SERENADE._
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act IV. Scene I_.
+
+  Romanzo sings:
+
+  Awake thee, my Lady-love!
+    Wake thee, and rise!
+  The sun through the bower peeps
+    Into thine eyes!
+
+  Behold how the early lark
+    Springs from the corn!
+  Hark, hark how the flower-bird
+    Winds her wee horn!
+
+  The swallow's glad shriek is heard
+    All through the air!
+  The stock-dove is murmuring
+    Loud as she dare!
+
+  Apollo's winged bugleman
+    Cannot contain,
+  But peals his loud trumpet-call
+    Once and again!
+
+  Then wake thee, my Lady-love,
+    Bird of my bower!
+  The sweetest and sleepiest
+    Bird at this hour!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  LORD DE TABLEY.
+
+  1835.
+
+
+  _A WINTER SKETCH._
+
+  When the snow begins to feather,
+    And the woods begin to roar
+  Clashing angry boughs together,
+    As the breakers grind the shore
+  Nature then a bankrupt goes,
+  Full of wreck and full of woes.
+
+  When the swan for warmer forelands
+    Leaves the sea-firth's icebound edge,
+  When the gray geese from the morelands
+    Cleave the clouds in noisy wedge,
+  Woodlands stand in frozen chains,
+  Hung with ropes of solid rains.
+
+  Shepherds creep to byre and haven,
+    Sheep in drifts are nipped and numb;
+  Some belated rook or raven
+    Rocks upon a sign-post dumb;
+  Mere-waves, solid as a clod,
+  Roar with skaters, thunder-shod.
+
+  All the roofs and chimneys rumble;
+    Roads are ridged with slush and sleet;
+  Down the orchard apples tumble;
+    Ploughboys stamp their frosty feet;
+  Millers, jolted down the lanes,
+  Hardly feel for cold their reins.
+
+  Snipes are calling from the trenches,
+    Frozen half and half at flow;
+  In the porches servant wenches
+    Work with shovels at the snow;
+  Rusty blackbirds, weak of wing,
+  Clean forget they once could sing.
+
+  Dogs and boys fetch down the cattle,
+    Deep in mire and powdered pale;
+  Spinning-wheels commence to rattle;
+    Landlords spice the smoking ale.
+  Hail, white winter, lady fine,
+  In a cup of elder wine!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SECOND MADRIGAL._
+
+  Woo thy lass while May is here;
+    Winter vows are colder.
+  Have thy kiss when lips are near;
+    To-morrow you are older.
+
+  Think, if clear the throstle sing,
+    A month his note will thicken;
+  A throat of gold in a golden spring
+    At the edge of the snow will sicken.
+
+  Take thy cup and take thy girl,
+    While they come for asking;
+  In thy heyday melt the pearl
+    At the love-ray basking.
+
+  Ale is good for careless bards,
+    Wine for wayworn sinners.
+  They who hold the strongest cards
+    Rise from life as winners.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  AUBREY DE VERE.
+
+  1788-1846.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+      Softly, O midnight Hours!
+      Move softly o'er the bowers
+  Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair!
+      For ye have power, men say,
+      Our hearts in sleep to sway,
+  And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.
+      Round ivory neck and arm
+      Enclasp a separate charm:
+  Hang o'er her poised; but breathe nor sigh nor prayer:
+      Silently ye may smile,
+      But hold your breath the while,
+  And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair!
+
+  II.
+
+      Bend down your glittering urns
+      Ere yet the dawn returns,
+  And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;
+      Upon the air rain balm;
+      Bid all the woods be calm;
+  Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed.
+      That so the Maiden may
+      With smiles your care repay
+  When from her couch she lifts her golden head;
+      Waking with earliest birds,
+      Ere yet the misty herds
+  Leave warm 'mid the grey grass their dusky bed.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Seek not the tree of silkiest bark
+    And balmiest bud,
+  To carve her name--while yet 't is dark--
+    Upon the wood!
+  The world is full of noble tasks
+    And wreaths hard-won:
+  Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands,
+    Till day is done.
+
+  Sing not that violet-veined skin,
+    That cheek's pale roses;
+  The lily of that form wherein
+    Her soul reposes!
+  Forth to the fight, true man, true knight!
+    The clash of arms
+  Shall more prevail than whispered tale
+    To win her charms.
+
+  The warrior for the True, the Right,
+    Fights in Love's name:
+  The love that lures thee from that fight
+    Lures thee to shame.
+  That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves
+    The spirit free,--
+  That love, or none, is fit for one,
+    Man-shaped like thee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+  When I was young, I said to Sorrow,
+    "Come, and I will play with thee:"--
+      He is near me now all day;
+      And at night returns to say,
+  "I will come again to-morrow,
+    I will come and stay with thee."
+
+  II.
+
+  Through the woods we walk together;
+    His soft footsteps rustle nigh me;
+      To shield an unregarded head,
+      He hath built a winter shed;
+  And all night in rainy weather,
+    I hear his gentle breathings by me.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+  1812-1870.
+
+
+  _THE IVY GREEN._
+
+  Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
+  That creepeth o'er ruins old!
+  Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
+  In his cell so lone and cold.
+  The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
+  To pleasure his dainty whim:
+  And the mouldering dust that years have made
+  Is a merry meal for him.
+      Creeping where no life is seen,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+  Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
+  And a staunch old heart has he.
+  How closely he twineth, how tight he clings,
+  To his friend, the huge Oak tree!
+  And slily he traileth along the ground,
+  And his leaves he gently waves,
+  As he joyously hugs and crawleth round
+  The rich mould of dead men's graves.
+      Creeping where grim death has been,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+  Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,
+  And nations have scattered been;
+  But the stout old Ivy shall never fade
+  From its hale and hearty green.
+  The brave old plant in its lonely days
+  Shall fatten upon the past:
+  For the stateliest building man can raise
+  Is the Ivy's food at last.
+      Creeping on, where time has been,
+      A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  AUSTIN DOBSON.
+
+  1840.
+
+
+  _THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S._
+
+  A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    Go swinging to the play;
+  Their footmen run before them,
+    With a "Stand by! Clear the way!"
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    She takes her buckled shoon,
+  When we go out a-courting
+    Beneath the harvest moon.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    Wear satin on their backs;
+  They sit all night at _Ombre_,
+    With candles all of wax:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    She dons her russet gown,
+  And runs to gather May dew
+    Before the world is down.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    They are so fine and fair,
+  You 'd think a box of essences
+    Was broken in the air:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    The breath of heath and furze,
+  When breezes blow at morning,
+    Is scarce so fresh as hers.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's
+    They 're painted to the eyes;
+  Their white it stays forever,
+    Their red it never dies:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Her color comes and goes;
+  It trembles to a lily,
+    It wavers to a rose.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's,
+    With "Mercy!" and with "Lud!"
+  They season all their speeches
+    (They come of noble blood):
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Her shy and simple words
+  Are sweet as, after rain-drops,
+    The music of the birds.
+
+  The ladies of St. James's,
+    They have their fits and freaks;
+  They smile on you--for seconds,
+    They frown on you--for weeks:
+  But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    Come either storm or shine,
+  From Shrovetide unto Shrovetide
+    Is always true--and mine.
+
+  My Phyllida, my Phyllida!
+    I care not though they heap
+  The hearts of all St. James's,
+    And give me all to keep;
+  I care not whose the beauties
+    Of all the world may be,
+  For Phyllida--for Phyllida
+    Is all the world to me!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE MILKMAID._
+
+  A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.
+
+  Across the grass I see her pass;
+    She comes with tripping pace,--
+  A maid I know,--and March winds blow
+    Her hair across her face;--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  The March winds blow. I watch her go:
+    Her eye is brown and clear;
+  Her cheek is brown and soft as down
+    (To those who see it near!)--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  What has she not that they have got,--
+    The dames that walk in silk!
+  If she undo her 'kerchief blue,
+    Her neck is white as milk.
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  Let those who will be proud and chill!
+    For me, from June to June,
+  My Dolly's words are sweet as curds,--
+    Her laugh is like a tune;--
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  Break, break to hear, O crocus-spear!
+    O tall Lent-lilies, flame!
+  There 'll be a bride at Easter-tide,
+    And Dolly is her name.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+      With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
+        Dolly shall be mine,
+      Before the spray is white with May,
+        Or blooms the eglantine.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED DOMETT.
+
+  1811-1887.
+
+
+  _A GLEE FOR WINTER._
+
+  Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow,
+  Never merry, never mellow!
+  Well-a-day! in rain and snow
+  What will keep one's heart aglow?
+  Groups of kinsmen, old and young,
+  Oldest they old friends among!
+  Groups of friends, so old and true,
+  That they seem our kinsmen too!
+  These all merry all together,
+  Charm away chill Winter weather!
+
+  What will kill this dull old fellow?
+  Ale that 's bright, and wine that 's mellow!
+  Dear old songs for ever new;
+  Some true love, and laughter too;
+  Pleasant wit, and harmless fun,
+  And a dance when day is done!
+  Music--friends so true and tried--
+  Whispered love by warm fireside--
+  Mirth at all times all together--
+  Make sweet May of Winter weather!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A KISS._
+
+  SAPPHO TO PHAON.
+
+  I.
+
+    Sweet mouth! O let me take
+  One draught from that delicious cup!
+  The hot Sahara-thirst to slake
+        That burns me up!
+
+  II.
+
+    Sweet breath!--all flowers that are,
+  Within that darling frame must bloom;
+  My heart revives so at the rare
+        Divine perfume!
+
+  III.
+
+    --Nay, 't is a dear deceit,
+  A drunkard's cup that mouth of thine;
+  Sure poison-flowers are breathing, sweet,
+        That fragrance fine!
+
+  IV.
+
+    I drank--the drink betrayed me
+  Into a madder, fiercer fever;
+  The scent of those love-blossoms made me
+        More faint than ever!
+
+  V.
+
+    Yet though quick death it were
+  That rich heart-vintage I must drain,
+  And quaff that hidden garden's air,
+        Again--again!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  LADY DUFFERIN.
+
+  1807-1867.
+
+
+  _SONG._[A]
+
+  April 30, 1833.
+
+  I.
+
+  When another's voice thou hearest,
+    With a sad and gentle tone,
+  Let its sound but waken, dearest,
+    Memory of _my_ love alone!
+  When in stranger lands thou meetest
+    Warm, true hearts, which welcome thee,
+  Let each friendly look thou greetest
+    Seem a message, Love, from _me_!
+
+  II.
+
+  When night's quiet sky is o'er thee,
+    When the pale stars dimly burn,
+  Dream that _one_ is watching for thee,
+    Who but lives for thy return!
+  Wheresoe'er thy steps are roving,
+    Night or day, by land or sea,
+  Think of her, whose life of loving
+    Is but one long thought of thee!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+    [Footnote A: These lines were written to the author's husband,
+    then at sea, in 1833, and set to music by herself.]
+
+
+  _LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT._
+
+  I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
+    Where we sat, side by side,
+  That bright May morning long ago
+    When first you were my bride.
+  The corn was springing fresh and green,
+    The lark sang loud and high,
+  The red was on your lip, Mary,
+    The love-light in your eye.
+
+  The place is little changed, Mary,
+    The day is bright as then,
+  The lark's loud song is in my ear,
+    The corn is green again;
+  But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
+    Your breath warm on my cheek,
+  And I still keep list'ning for the words
+    You never more may speak.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  'T is but a step down yonder lane,
+    The little Church stands near--
+  The Church where we were wed, Mary,--
+    I see the spire from here;
+  But the graveyard lies between, Mary,--
+    My step might break your rest,--
+  Where you, my darling, lie asleep
+    With your baby on your breast.
+
+  I 'm very lonely now, Mary,--
+    The poor make no new friends;--
+  But, oh! they love the better still
+    The few our Father sends.
+  And you were all I had, Mary,
+    My blessing and my pride;
+  There 's nothing left to care for now
+    Since my poor Mary died.
+
+  Yours was the good brave heart, Mary,
+    That still kept hoping on,
+  When trust in God had left my soul,
+    And half my strength was gone.
+  There was comfort ever on your lip,
+    And the kind look on your brow.
+  I bless you, Mary, for that same,
+    Though you can't hear me now.
+
+  I thank you for the patient smile
+    When your heart was fit to break;
+  When the hunger pain was gnawing there
+    You hid it for my sake.
+  I bless you for the pleasant word
+    When your heart was sad and sore.
+  Oh! I 'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
+    Where grief can't reach you more!
+
+  I 'm bidding you a long farewell,
+    My Mary--kind and true!
+  But I 'll not forget you, darling,
+    In the land I 'm going to.
+  They say there 's bread and work for all,
+    And the sun shines always there;
+  But I 'll not forget old Ireland,
+    Were it fifty times as fair.
+
+  And when amid those grand old woods
+    I sit and shut my eyes,
+  My heart will travel back again
+    To where my Mary lies;
+  I 'll think I see the little stile
+    Where we sat, side by side,--
+  And the springing corn and bright May morn,
+    When first you were my bride.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  MICHAEL FIELD.
+
+
+  _WINDS TO-DAY ARE LARGE AND FREE._
+
+  Winds to-day are large and free,
+  Winds to-day are westerly;
+  From the land they seem to blow
+  Whence the sap begins to flow
+  And the dimpled light to spread,
+  From the country of the dead.
+
+  Ah, it is a wild, sweet land
+  Where the coming May is planned,
+  Where such influences throb
+  As our frosts can never rob
+  Of their triumph, when they bound
+  Through the tree and from the ground.
+
+  Great within me is my soul,
+  Great to journey to its goal,
+  To the country of the dead;
+  For the cornel-tips are red,
+  And a passion rich in strife
+  Drives me toward the home of life.
+
+  Oh, to keep the spring with them
+  Who have flushed the cornel-stem,
+  Who imagine at its source
+  All the year's delicious course,
+  Then express by wind and light
+  Something of their rapture's height!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _LET US WREATHE THE MIGHTY CUP._
+
+  Let us wreathe the mighty cup,
+  Then with song we 'll lift it up,
+  And, before we drain the glow
+  Of the juice that foams below
+  Flowers and cool leaves round the brim,
+  Let us swell the praise of him
+  Who is tyrant of the heart,
+  Cupid with his flaming dart!
+
+  Pride before his face is bowed,
+  Strength and heedless beauty cowed;
+  Underneath his fatal wings
+  Bend discrowned the heads of kings;
+  Maidens blanch beneath his eye
+  And its laughing mastery;
+  Through each land his arrows sound,
+  By his fetters all are bound.
+
+
+  _WHERE WINDS ABOUND._
+
+  Where winds abound,
+  And fields are hilly,
+  Shy daffadilly
+  Looks down on the ground.
+
+  Rose cones of larch
+  Are just beginning;
+  Though oaks are spinning
+  No oak-leaves in March.
+
+  Spring 's at the core,
+  The boughs are sappy:
+  Good to be happy
+  So long, long before!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  NORMAN GALE.
+
+  1862.
+
+
+  _A SONG._
+
+  First the fine, faint, dreamy motion
+    Of the tender blood
+  Circling in the veins of children--
+    This is Life, the bud.
+
+  Next the fresh, advancing beauty
+    Growing from the gloom,
+  Waking eyes and fuller bosom--
+    This is Life, the bloom.
+
+  Then the pain that follows after,
+    Grievous to be borne,
+  Pricking, steeped in subtle poison--
+    This is Love, the thorn.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The bird will bring
+  A heart in tune for melodies
+    Unto the spring,
+  Till he who 's in the cedar there
+  Is moved to trill a song so rare,
+  And pipe her fair.
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The bud will break;
+  The inner rose will ope and glow
+    For summer's sake;
+  Fond bees will lodge within her breast
+  Till she herself is plucked and prest
+  Where I would rest.
+
+  Wait but a little while--
+    The maid will grow
+  Gracious with lips and hands to thee,
+    With breast of snow.
+  To-day Love 's mute, but time hath sown
+  A soul in her to match thine own,
+  Though yet ungrown.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  EDMUND GOSSE.
+
+  1849.
+
+
+  _SONG FOR THE LUTE._
+
+  I bring a garland for your head
+    Of blossoms fresh and fair;
+  My own hands wound their white and red
+    To ring about your hair:
+  Here is a lily, here a rose,
+  A warm narcissus that scarce blows,
+  And fairer blossoms no man knows.
+
+  So crowned and chapleted with flowers,
+    I pray you be not proud;
+  For after brief and summer hours
+    Comes autumn with a shroud;--
+  Though fragrant as a flower you lie,
+  You and your garland, bye and bye,
+  Will fade and wither up and die.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  THOMAS HOOD.
+
+  1798-1845.
+
+
+  _BALLAD._
+
+  I.
+
+  It was not in the winter
+  Our loving lot was cast;
+  It was the time of roses,--
+  We plucked them as we passed;
+
+  II.
+
+  That churlish season never frowned
+  On early lovers yet:--
+  Oh, no--the world was newly crowned
+  With flowers when first we met!
+
+  III.
+
+  'T was twilight, and I bade you go,
+  But still you held me fast;
+  It was the time of roses,--
+  We plucked them as we passed.--
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O Lady, leave thy silken thread
+    And flowery tapestrie:
+  There 's living roses on the bush,
+    And blossoms on the tree;
+  Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
+    Some random bud will meet;
+  Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
+    The daisy at thy feet.
+
+  'T is like the birthday of the world,
+    When earth was born in bloom;
+  The light is made of many dyes,
+    The air is all perfume;
+  There 's crimson buds, and white and blue--
+    The very rainbow showers
+  Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
+    And sown the earth with flowers.
+
+  There 's fairy tulips in the east,
+    The garden of the sun;
+  The very streams reflect the hues,
+    And blossom as they run:
+  While Morn opes like a crimson rose,
+    Still wet with pearly showers;
+  Then, Lady, leave the silken thread
+    Thou twinest into flowers!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER._
+
+  I remember, I remember,
+  The house where I was born,
+  The little window where the sun
+  Came peeping in at morn;
+  He never came a wink too soon,
+  Nor brought too long a day,
+  But now, I often wish the night
+  Had borne my breath away!
+
+  I remember, I remember,
+  The roses, red and white,
+  The vi'lets, and the lily-cups,
+  Those flowers made of light!
+  The lilacs where the robin built,
+  And where my brother set
+  The laburnum on his birthday,--
+  The tree is living yet!
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  I remember, I remember
+  Where I was used to swing,
+  And thought the air must rush as fresh
+  To swallows on the wing;
+  My spirit flew in feathers then,
+  That is so heavy now,
+  And summer pools could hardly cool
+  The fever on my brow!
+
+  I remember, I remember
+  The fir trees dark and high;
+  I used to think their slender tops
+  Were close against the sky:
+  It was a childish ignorance,
+  But now 't is little joy
+  To know I 'm farther off from heav'n
+  Than when I was a boy.
+
+
+  _BALLAD._
+
+  She 's up and gone, the graceless Girl!
+    And robbed my failing years;
+  My blood before was thin and cold
+    But now 't is turned to tears;--
+  My shadow falls upon my grave,
+   So near the brink I stand,
+  She might have stayed a little yet,
+    And led me by the hand!
+
+  Ay, call her on the barren moor,
+    And call her on the hill,
+  'T is nothing but the heron's cry,
+    And plover's answer shrill;
+  My child is flown on wilder wings,
+    Than they have ever spread,
+  And I may even walk a waste
+    That widened when she fled.
+
+  Full many a thankless child has been,
+    But never one like mine;
+  Her meat was served on plates of gold,
+    Her drink was rosy wine;
+  But now she 'll share the robin's food,
+    And sup the common rill,
+  Before her feet will turn again
+    To meet her father's will!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  I.
+
+  The stars are with the voyager
+    Wherever he may sail;
+  The moon is constant to her time;
+    The sun will never fail;
+  But follow, follow round the world,
+    The green earth and the sea;
+  So love is with the lover's heart,
+    Wherever he may be.
+
+  II.
+
+  Wherever he may be, the stars
+    Must daily lose their light;
+  The moon will veil her in the shade;
+    The sun will set at night.
+  The sun may set, but constant love
+    Will shine when he 's away;
+  So that dull night is never night,
+    And day is brighter day.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES (LORD HOUGHTON).
+
+  1809-1885.
+
+
+  _THE BROOKSIDE._
+
+  I wandered by the brook-side,
+    I wandered by the mill,--
+  I could not hear the brook flow,
+    The noisy wheel was still;
+  There was no burr of grasshopper,
+    No chirp of any bird,
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  I sat beside the elm-tree,
+    I watched the long, long, shade,
+  And as it grew still longer,
+    I did not feel afraid;
+  For I listened for a footfall,
+    I listened for a word,--
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  He came not,--no, he came not,--
+    The night came on alone,--
+  The little stars sat one by one,
+    Each on his golden throne;
+  The evening air passed by my cheek,
+    The leaves above were stirred,--
+  But the beating of my own heart
+    Was all the sound I heard.
+
+  Fast silent tears were flowing,
+    When something stood behind,--
+  A hand was on my shoulder,
+    I knew its touch was kind:
+  It drew me nearer--nearer,--
+    We did not speak one word,
+  For the beating of our own hearts
+    Was all the sound we heard.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _THE VENETIAN SERENADE._
+
+  When along the light ripple the far serenade
+  Has accosted the ear of each passionate maid,
+  She may open the window that looks on the stream,--
+  She may smile on her pillow and blend it in dream;
+  Half in words, half in music, it pierces the gloom,
+  "I am coming--Stali[B]--but you know not for whom!
+                Stali--not for whom!"
+
+  Now the tones become clearer,--you hear more and more
+  How the water divided returns on the oar,--
+  Does the prow of the Gondola strike on the stair?
+  Do the voices and instruments pause and prepare?
+  Oh! they faint on the ear as the lamp on the view,
+  "I am passing--Premi--but I stay not for you!
+                Premi--not for you!"
+
+  Then return to your couch, you who stifle a tear,
+  Then awake not, fair sleeper--believe he is here;
+  For the young and the loving no sorrow endures,
+  If to-day be another's,--to-morrow is yours;
+  May, the next time you listen, your fancy be true,
+  "I am coming--Sciar--and for you and to you!
+                Sciar--and to you!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+    [Footnote B: The words here used are the calls of the gondoliers,
+    indicating the direction they are rowing. "Sciar" is to stop the
+    boat.]
+
+
+  _FROM LOVE AND NATURE._
+
+  The Sun came through the frosty mist
+  Most like a dead-white moon;
+  Thy soothing tones I seemed to list,
+  As voices in a swoon.
+
+  Still as an island stood our ship,
+  The waters gave no sound,
+  But when I touched thy quivering lip
+  I felt the world go round.
+
+  We seemed the only sentient things
+  Upon that silent sea:
+  Our hearts the only living springs
+  Of all that yet could be!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  1830.
+
+
+  _THE LONG WHITE SEAM._
+
+  As I came round the harbor buoy,
+    The lights began to gleam,
+  No wave the land-locked water stirred,
+    The crags were white as cream;
+  And I marked my love by candle-light
+   Sewing her long white seam.
+     It 's aye sewing ashore, my dear,
+       Watch and steer at sea,
+     It 's reef and furl, and haul the line,
+       Set sail and think of thee.
+
+  I climbed to reach her cottage door;
+    O sweetly my love sings!
+  Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth,
+    My soul to meet it springs
+  As the shining water leaped of old,
+    When stirred by angel wings.
+      Aye longing to list anew,
+        Awake and in my dream,
+      But never a song she sang like this,
+        Sewing her long white seam.
+
+  Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights,
+    That brought me in to thee,
+  And peace drop down on that low roof
+    For the sight that I did see,
+  And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear
+    All for the love of me.
+      For O, for O, with brows bent low
+        By the candle's flickering gleam,
+      Her wedding gown it was she wrought,
+        Sewing the long white seam.
+
+
+  _LOVE._
+
+  FROM "SONGS OF SEVEN."
+
+  I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover,
+    Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;
+  "Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover--
+    Hush, nightingale, hush! O, sweet nightingale, wait
+        Till I listen and hear
+        If a step draweth near,
+        For my love he is late!
+
+  "The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer,
+    A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree,
+  The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer:
+    To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see?
+        Let the star-clusters grow,
+        Let the sweet waters flow,
+        And cross quickly to me.
+
+  "You night moths that hover where honey brims over
+    From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep;
+  You glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover
+    To him that comes darkling along the rough steep.
+        Ah, my sailor, make haste,
+        For the time runs to waste,
+        And my love lieth deep--
+
+  "Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover,
+    I 've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night."
+  By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover,
+    Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight;
+        But I 'll love him more, more
+        Than e'er wife loved before,
+        Be the days dark or bright.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SWEET IS CHILDHOOD._
+
+  Sweet is childhood--childhood 's over,
+        Kiss and part.
+  Sweet is youth; but youth 's a rover--
+        So 's my heart.
+  Sweet is rest; but by all showing
+        Toil is nigh.
+  We must go. Alas! the going,
+        Say "good-bye."
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+  1819-1875.
+
+
+  _AIRLY BEACON._
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the pleasant sight to see
+  Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
+    While my love climbed up to me!
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the happy hours we lay
+  Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
+    Courting through the summer's day!
+
+  Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
+    Oh the weary haunt for me,
+  All alone on Airly Beacon,
+    With his baby on my knee!
+
+
+  _THE SANDS OF DEE._
+
+      "Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home,
+          And call the cattle home,
+          And call the cattle home
+      Across the sands of Dee;"
+  The western wind was wild and dark with foam,
+      And all alone went she.
+
+      The western tide crept up along the sand,
+          And o'er and o'er the sand,
+          And round and round the sand,
+      As far as eye could see.
+  The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
+      And never home came she.
+
+      "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--
+          A tress of golden hair,
+          A drowned maiden's hair
+      Above the nets at sea?"
+  Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
+      Among the stakes on Dee.
+
+      They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
+          The cruel crawling foam,
+          The cruel hungry foam,
+      To her grave beside the sea:
+  But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
+      Across the sands of Dee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING._
+
+  Three fishers went sailing away to the West,
+    Away to the West as the sun went down;
+  Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
+    And the children stood watching them out of the town;
+  For men must work, and women must weep,
+  And there 's little to earn, and many to keep,
+    Though the harbor bar be moaning.
+
+  Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,
+    And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;
+  They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,
+    And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.
+  But men must work, and women must weep,
+  Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
+    And the harbor bar be moaning.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  Three corpses lay out on the shining sands
+    In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
+  And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
+    For those who will never come home to the town;
+  For men must work, and women must weep,
+  And the sooner it 's over, the sooner to sleep;
+    And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A FAREWELL._
+
+  To C. E. G.--1856.
+
+  My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
+    No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;
+  Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I 'll leave you,
+            For every day.
+
+  I 'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
+    Than lark who hails the dawn of breezy down;
+  To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
+            Than Shakespeare's crown.
+
+  Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;
+    Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long;
+  And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever,
+            One grand sweet song.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+
+  1775-1864.
+
+
+  _ROSE AYLMER._
+
+  Ah, what avails the sceptered race!
+    Ah, what the form divine!
+  What every virtue, every grace!
+    Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
+  Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
+    May weep, but never see,
+  A night of memories and of sighs
+    I consecrate to thee.
+
+
+  _RUBIES._
+
+  Often I have heard it said
+  That her lips are ruby-red.
+  Little heed I what they say,
+  I have seen as red as they.
+  Ere she smiled on other men,
+  Real rubies were they then.
+
+  When she kissed me once in play,
+  Rubies were less bright than they,
+  And less bright were those which shone
+  In the palace of the Sun.
+  Will they be as bright again?
+  Not if kissed by other men.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE FAULT IS NOT MINE._
+
+  The fault is not mine if I love you too much,
+    I loved you too little too long,
+  Such ever your graces, your tenderness such,
+    And the music the heart gave the tongue.
+
+  A time is now coming when Love must be gone,
+    Tho' he never abandoned me yet.
+  Acknowledge our friendship, our passion disown,
+    Our follies (ah can you?) forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _UNDER THE LINDENS._
+
+  Under the lindens lately sat
+  A couple, and no more, in chat;
+  I wondered what they would be at
+              Under the lindens.
+
+  I saw four eyes and four lips meet,
+  I heard the words, _"How sweet! how sweet!"_
+  Had then the Faeries given a treat
+              Under the lindens?
+
+  I pondered long and could not tell
+  What dainty pleased them both so well:
+  Bees! bees! was it your hydromel
+               Under the lindens?
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SIXTEEN._
+
+  In Clementina's artless mien
+    Lucilla asks me what I see,--
+  And are the roses of sixteen
+          Enough for me?
+
+  Lucilla asks, if that be all,
+    Have I not culled as sweet before?
+  Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall
+          I still deplore.
+
+  I now behold another scene,
+    Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light,--
+  More pure, more constant, more serene,
+          And not less bright:
+
+  Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,
+    Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,
+  And Modesty, who, when she goes,
+          Is gone forever!
+
+
+  _IANTHE._
+
+  Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again
+    Our hands and ardent lips shall meet,
+  And Pleasure, to assert his reign,
+    Scatter ten thousand kisses sweet:
+  Then cease repeating while you mourn,
+  "I wonder when he will return."
+
+  Ah wherefore should you so admire
+    The flowing words that fill my song,
+  Why call them artless, yet require
+    "Some promise from that tuneful tongue?"
+  I doubt if heaven itself could part
+  A tuneful tongue and tender heart.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _ONE LOVELY NAME._
+
+  One lovely name adorns my song,
+    And, dwelling in the heart,
+  For ever falters at the tongue,
+    And trembles to depart.
+
+
+  _FORSAKEN._
+
+  Mother, I can not mind my wheel;
+    My fingers ache, my lips are dry;
+  Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
+    But oh, who ever felt as I!
+  No longer could I doubt him true,
+    All other men may use deceit;
+  He always said my eyes were blue,
+    And often swore my lips were sweet.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON.
+
+  1821-1895.
+
+
+  _A GARDEN LYRIC._
+
+      The flow of life is yet a rill
+        That laughs, and leaps, and glistens;
+      And still the woodland rings, and still
+        The old Damoetas listens.
+
+  We have loiter'd and laugh'd in the flowery croft,
+    We have met under wintry skies;
+  Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft
+    Is the light in her gentle eyes;
+  It is bliss in the silent woods, among
+    Gay crowds, or in any place
+  To hear her voice, to gaze on her young
+        Confiding face.
+
+  For ever may roses divinely blow,
+    And wine-dark pansies charm
+  By the prim box path where I felt the glow
+    Of her dimpled, trusting arm,
+  And the sweep of her silk as she turned and smiled
+    A smile as pure as her pearls;
+  The breeze was in love with the darling Child,
+        As it moved her curls.
+
+  She showed me her ferns and woodbine-sprays,
+    Foxglove and jasmine stars,
+  A mist of blue in the beds, a blaze
+    Of red in the celadon jars:
+  And velvety bees in convolvulus bells,
+    And roses of bountiful June--
+  Oh, who would think their summer spells
+        Could die so soon!
+
+  For a glad song came from the milking shed,
+    On a wind of the summer south,
+  And the green was golden above her head,
+    And a sunbeam kiss'd her mouth;
+  Sweet were the lips where that sunbeam dwelt;
+    And the wings of Time were fleet
+  As I gazed; and neither spoke, for we felt
+        Life was so sweet!
+
+  And the odorous limes were dim above
+    As we leant on a drooping bough;
+  And the darkling air was a breath of love,
+    And a witching thrush sang "Now!"
+  For the sun dropt low, and the twilight grew
+    As we listen'd and sigh'd, and leant;
+  That day was the sweetest day--and we knew
+        What the sweetness meant.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE CUCKOO._
+
+  We heard it calling, clear and low,
+      That tender April morn; we stood
+      And listened in the quiet wood,
+  We heard it, ay, long years ago.
+
+  It came, and with a strange, sweet cry,
+      A friend, but from a far-off land;
+      We stood and listened, hand in hand,
+  And heart to heart, my Love and I.
+
+  In dreamland then we found our joy,
+      And so it seemed as 't were the Bird
+      That Helen in old times had heard
+  At noon beneath the oaks of Troy.
+
+  O time far off, and yet so near!
+      It came to her in that hush'd grove,
+      It warbled while the wooing throve,
+  It sang the song she loved to hear.
+
+  And now I hear its voice again,
+      And still its message is of peace,
+      It sings of love that will not cease--
+  For me it never sings in vain.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _GERTRUDE'S NECKLACE._
+
+  As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl,
+  Her Necklace lengthen'd, pearl by pearl;
+  Year after year it grew, and grew,
+  For every birthday gave her two.
+  Her neck is lovely,--soft and fair,
+  And now her Necklace glimmers there.
+
+  So cradled, let it fall and rise,
+  And all her graces symbolize.
+  Perchance this pearl, without a speck,
+  Once was as warm on Sappho's neck;
+  Where are the happy, twilight pearls
+  That braided Beatrice's curls?
+
+  Is Gerty loved? Is Gerty loth?
+  Or, if she 's either, is she both?
+  She 's fancy free, but sweeter far
+  Than many plighted maidens are:
+  Will Gerty smile us all away,
+  And still be Gerty? Who can say?
+
+  But let her wear her Precious Toy,
+  And I 'll rejoice to see her joy:
+  Her bauble 's only one degree
+  Less frail, less fugitive than we,
+  For time, ere long, will snap the skein,
+  And scatter all her Pearls again.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  SAMUEL LOVER.
+
+  1797-1868.
+
+
+  _THE ANGEL'S WHISPER._[C]
+
+        A baby was sleeping,
+        Its mother was weeping,
+  For the husband was far on the wild raging Sea;
+        And the tempest was swelling
+        Round the fisherman's dwelling;
+  And she cried, "Dermot darling, oh come back to me!"
+
+        Her beads while she numbered,
+        The baby still slumbered,
+  And smiled in her face as she bended her knee;
+        "O blest be that warning,
+        My child thy sleep adorning,
+  For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!
+
+        "And while they are keeping
+        Bright watch o'er thy sleeping,
+  Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me!
+        And say thou wouldst rather
+        They 'd watch o'er thy father;
+  For I know that the angels are whispering with thee!"
+
+        The dawn of the morning
+        Saw Dermot returning,
+  And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see;
+        And closely caressing
+        Her child, with a blessing,
+  Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering with thee!"
+
+    [Footnote C: A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland
+    that when a child smiles in its sleep it is "talking with angels."]
+
+
+  _WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE?_
+
+  I.
+
+  "What will you do, love, when I am going
+  With white sail flowing,
+          The seas beyond--
+  What will you do, love, when waves divide us,
+  And friends may chide us
+          For being fond?"
+  "Tho' waves divide us--and friends be chiding,
+  In faith abiding,
+          I 'll still be true!
+  And I 'll pray for thee on the stormy ocean,
+  In deep devotion--
+          That 's what I 'll do!"
+
+  II.
+
+  "What would you do, love, if distant tidings
+  Thy fond confidings
+          Should undermine?--
+  And I abiding 'neath sultry skies,
+  Should think other eyes
+          Were as bright as thine?"
+  "Oh, name it not:--tho' guilt and shame
+  Were on thy name
+          I 'd still be true:
+  But that heart of thine--should another share it--
+  I could not bear it!
+          What would I do?"
+
+  III.
+
+  "What would you do, love, when home returning
+  With hopes high burning,
+          With wealth for you,
+  If my bark, which bounded o'er foreign foam,
+  Should be lost near home--
+          Ah! what would you do?"--
+  "So thou wert spared--I 'd bless the morrow,
+  In want and sorrow,
+          That left me you;
+  And I 'd welcome thee from the wasting billow,
+  This heart thy pillow--
+          That 's what I 'd do!"
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHARLES MACKAY.
+
+  1814-1889.
+
+
+  _I LOVE MY LOVE._
+
+  I.
+
+  What is the meaning of the song
+    That rings so clear and loud,
+  Thou nightingale amid the copse--
+    Thou lark above the cloud?
+  What says the song, thou joyous thrush,
+    Up in the walnut-tree?
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+  II.
+
+  What is the meaning of thy thought,
+    O maiden fair and young?
+  There is such pleasure in thine eyes,
+    Such music on thy tongue;
+  There is such glory on thy face--
+    What can the meaning be?
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+  III.
+
+  O happy words! at Beauty's feet
+    We sing them ere our prime;
+  And when the early summers pass,
+    And Care comes on with Time,
+  Still be it ours, in Care's despite,
+    To join the chorus free--
+  "I love my Love, because I know
+    My Love loves me."
+
+
+  _O YE TEARS!_
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,
+  Ye are welcome to my heart,--thawing, thawing, like the snow;
+  I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snow-drop spring,
+  And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run;
+  Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun.
+  The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,
+  And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek,
+  I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.
+  Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,
+  And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.
+
+  O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain:
+  The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again;
+  Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning sand,
+  It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.
+
+  There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my heart,
+  And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart.
+  Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago--
+  O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  FRANCIS MAHONEY.
+
+  1805-1866.
+
+
+  _THE BELLS OF SHANDON._
+
+      Sabbata pango;
+      Funera plango;
+      Solemnia clango.
+
+        --_Inscription on an old bell._
+
+  With deep affection
+  And recollection
+  I often think of
+    Those Shandon bells,
+  Whose sounds so wild would,
+  In the days of childhood,
+  Fling round my cradle
+    Their magic spells.
+
+  On this I ponder
+  Where'er I wander,
+  And thus grow fonder,
+    Sweet Cork, of thee,--
+  With thy bells of Shandon,
+  That sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  I 've heard bells chiming
+  Full many a clime in,
+  Tolling sublime in
+    Cathedral shrine,
+  While at a glibe rate
+  Brass tongues would vibrate;
+  But all their music
+    Spoke naught like thine.
+
+  For memory, dwelling
+  On each proud swelling
+  Of thy belfry, knelling
+    Its bold notes free,
+  Made the bells of Shandon
+  Sound far more grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  I 've heard bells tolling
+  Old Adrian's Mole in,
+  Their thunder rolling
+    From the Vatican,--
+  And cymbals glorious
+  Swinging uproarious
+  In the gorgeous turrets
+    Of Notre Dame;
+
+  But thy sounds were sweeter
+  Than the dome of Peter
+  Flings o'er the Tiber,
+    Pealing solemnly.
+  Oh! the bells of Shandon
+  Sound far more grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  There 's a bell in Moscow;
+  While on tower and kiosk O
+  In St. Sophia
+    The Turkman gets,
+  And loud in air
+  Calls men to prayer,
+  From the tapering summit
+    Of tall minarets.
+
+  Such empty phantom
+  I freely grant them;
+  But there 's an anthem
+    More dear to me,--
+  'T is the bells of Shandon,
+  That sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters
+    Of the river Lee.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GERALD MASSEY.
+
+  1828.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  All glorious as the Rainbow's birth,
+    She came in Spring-tide's golden hours;
+  When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,
+    And May was crowned with buds and flowers!
+  The mounting devil at my heart
+    Clomb faintlier as my life did win
+  The charmed heaven, she wrought apart,
+    To wake its slumbering Angel in!
+  With radiant mien she trod serene,
+    And passed me smiling by!
+  O! who that looked could chance but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  The dewy eyelids of the Dawn
+    Ne'er oped such heaven as hers can show:
+  It seemed her dear eyes might have shone
+    As jewels in some starry brow.
+  Her face flashed glory like a shrine,
+    Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;
+  Where came and went love-thoughts divine,
+    As low winds walk the leaves in light:
+  She wore her beauty with the grace
+    Of Summer's star-clad sky;
+  O! who that looked could help but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  Her budding breasts like fragrant fruit
+    Of love were ripening to be pressed:
+  Her voice, that shook my heart's red root,
+    Yet might not break a babe's soft rest!
+  More liquid than the running brooks,
+    More vernal than the voice of Spring,
+  When Nightingales are in their nooks,
+    And all the leafy thickets ring.
+  The love she coyly hid at heart
+    Was shyly conscious in her eye;
+  O! who that looked could help but love?
+    Not I, sweet soul, not I.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY.
+
+  1844-1881.
+
+
+  _A LOVE SYMPHONY._
+
+  Along the garden ways just now
+    I heard the flowers speak;
+  The white rose told me of your brow,
+    The red rose of your cheek;
+  The lily of your bended head,
+    The bindweed of your hair:
+  Each looked its loveliest and said
+    You were more fair.
+
+  I went into the wood anon,
+    And heard the wild birds sing,
+  How sweet you were; they warbled on,
+    Piped, trilled the self-same thing.
+  Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause,
+    The burden did repeat,
+  And still began again because
+    You were more sweet.
+
+  And then I went down to the sea,
+    And heard it murmuring too,
+  Part of an ancient mystery,
+    All made of me and you.
+  How many a thousand years ago
+    I loved, and you were sweet--
+  Longer I could not stay, and so
+    I fled back to your feet.
+
+
+  _I MADE ANOTHER GARDEN._
+
+  I made another garden, yea,
+    For my new love;
+  I left the dead rose where it lay,
+    And set the new above.
+  Why did the summer not begin?
+    Why did my heart not haste?
+  My old love came and walked therein,
+    And laid the garden waste.
+
+  She entered with her weary smile,
+    Just as of old;
+  She looked around a little while,
+    And shivered at the cold.
+  Her passing touch was death to all,
+    Her passing look a blight;
+  She made the white rose-petals fall,
+    And turned the red rose white.
+
+  Her pale robe, clinging to the grass,
+    Seemed like a snake
+  That bit the grass and ground, alas!
+    And a sad trail did make.
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  She went up slowly to the gate;
+    And there, just as of yore,
+  She turned back at the last to wait,
+    And say farewell once more.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.
+
+  1825-1864.
+
+
+  _THE LOST CHORD._
+
+  Seated one day at the Organ,
+    I was weary and ill at ease,
+  And my fingers wandered idly
+    Over the noisy keys.
+
+  I do not know what I was playing,
+    Or what I was dreaming then;
+  But I struck one chord of music,
+    Like the sound of a great Amen.
+
+  It flooded the crimson twilight
+    Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
+  And it lay on my fevered spirit
+    With a touch of infinite calm.
+
+  It quieted pain and sorrow,
+    Like love overcoming strife;
+  It seemed the harmonious echo
+    From our discordant Life.
+
+  It linked all perplexed meanings
+    Into one perfect peace,
+  And trembled away into silence
+    As if it were loth to cease.
+
+  I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
+    That one lost chord divine,
+  Which came from the soul of the Organ,
+    And entered into mine.
+
+  It may be that Death's bright angel
+    Will speak in that chord again,--
+  It may be that only in Heaven
+    I shall hear that grand Amen.
+
+
+  _SENT TO HEAVEN._
+
+  I had a Message to send her,
+    To her whom my soul loved best;
+  But I had my task to finish,
+    And she was gone home to rest.
+
+  To rest in the far bright heaven;
+    Oh, so far away from here,
+  It was vain to speak to my darling,
+    For I knew she could not hear!
+
+  I had a message to send her,
+    So tender, and true, and sweet,
+  I longed for an Angel to bear it,
+    And lay it down at her feet.
+
+  I placed it, one summer evening,
+    On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast;
+  But it faded in golden splendour,
+    And died in the crimson west.
+
+  I gave it the Lark next morning,
+    And I watched it soar and soar;
+  But its pinions grew faint and weary,
+    And it fluttered to earth once more.
+
+  To the heart of a Rose I told it;
+    And the perfume, sweet and rare,
+  Growing faint on the blue bright ether,
+    Was lost in the balmy air.
+
+  I laid it upon a Censer,
+    And I saw the incense rise;
+  But its clouds of rolling silver
+    Could not reach the far blue skies.
+
+  I cried, in my passionate longing:--
+    "Has the earth no Angel-friend
+  Who will carry my love the message
+    That my heart desires to send?"
+
+  Then I heard a strain of music,
+    So mighty, so pure, so clear,
+  That my very sorrow was silent,
+    And my heart stood still to hear.
+
+  And I felt, in my soul's deep yearning,
+    At last the sure answer stir:--
+  "The music will go up to Heaven,
+    And carry my thought to her."
+
+  It rose in harmonious rushing
+    Of mingled voices and strings,
+  And I tenderly laid my message
+    On the Music's outspread wings.
+
+  I heard it float farther and farther,
+    In sound more perfect than speech;
+  Farther than sight can follow,
+    Farther than soul can reach.
+
+  And I know that at last my message
+    Has passed through the golden gate:
+  So my heart is no longer restless,
+    And I am content to wait.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  B. W. PROCTER (BARRY CORNWALL).
+
+  1787-1874.
+
+
+  _THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  How many Summers, love,
+    Have I been thine?
+  How many days, thou dove,
+    Hast thou been mine?
+  Time, like the winged wind
+    When 't bends the flowers,
+  Hath left no mark behind,
+    To count the hours!
+
+  Some weight of thought, though loth,
+    On thee he leaves;
+  Some lines of care round both
+    Perhaps he weaves;
+  Some fears,--a soft regret
+    For joys scarce known;
+  Sweet looks we half forget;--
+    All else is flown!
+
+  Ah! with what thankless heart
+    I mourn and sing!
+  Look, where our children start,
+    Like sudden Spring!
+  With tongues all sweet and low,
+    Like a pleasant rhyme,
+  They tell how much I owe
+    To thee and Time!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A PETITION TO TIME._
+
+  1831.
+
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+    Let us glide adown thy stream
+  Gently,--as we sometimes glide
+    Through a quiet dream!
+  Humble voyagers are We,
+  Husband, wife, and children three--
+  (One is lost,--an angel, fled
+  To the azure overhead!)
+
+  Touch us gently, Time!
+    We 've not proud nor soaring wings:
+  _Our_ ambition, _our_ content
+    Lies in simple things.
+  Humble voyagers are We,
+  O'er Life's dim unsounded sea,
+  Seeking only some calm clime:--
+  Touch us _gently_, gentle Time!
+
+
+  _A BACCHANALIAN SONG._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY MR. H. PHILLIPS.
+
+  Sing!--Who sings
+  To her who weareth a hundred rings?
+    Ah, who is this lady fine?
+    The VINE, boys, the VINE!
+    The mother of mighty Wine.
+      A roamer is she
+      O'er wall and tree,
+  And sometimes very good company.
+
+  Drink!--Who drinks
+  To her who blusheth and never thinks?
+    Ah, who is this maid of thine?
+    The GRAPE, boys, the GRAPE!
+    O, never let her escape
+    Until she be turned to Wine!
+      For better is she
+      Than vine can be,
+  And very, very good company!
+
+  Dream!--Who dreams
+  Of the God that governs a thousand streams?
+    Ah, who is this Spirit fine?
+    'T is WINE, boys, 't is WINE!
+    God Bacchus, a friend of mine.
+      O better is he
+      Than grape or tree,
+  And the best of all good company.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SHE WAS NOT FAIR NOR FULL OF GRACE._
+
+  She was not fair, nor full of grace,
+    Nor crowned with thought or aught beside;
+  No wealth had she, of mind or face,
+    To win our love, or raise our pride:
+  No lover's thought her cheek did touch;
+    No poet's dream was 'round her thrown;
+  And yet we miss her--ah, too much,
+    Now--she hath flown!
+
+  We miss her when the morning calls,
+    As one that mingled in our mirth;
+  We miss her when the evening falls,--
+    A trifle wanted on the earth!
+  Some fancy small or subtle thought
+    Is checked ere to its blossom grown;
+  Some chain is broken that we wrought,
+    Now--she hath flown!
+
+  No solid good, nor hope defined,
+    Is marred now she hath sunk in night;
+  And yet the strong immortal Mind
+    Is stopped in its triumphant flight!
+  Stern friend, what power is in a tear,
+    What strength in one poor thought alone,
+  When all we know is--"She was here,"
+    And--"She hath flown!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SEA-KING._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King,
+    And the fame that now hangs o'er him,
+  Who once did sweep o'er the vanquish'd deep,
+    And drove the world before him!
+  His deck was a throne, on the ocean lone,
+    And the sea was his park of pleasure,
+  Where he scattered in fear the human deer,
+    And rested,--when he had leisure!
+            Come,--shout and sing
+              Of the great Sea-King,
+            And ride in the track he rode in!
+              He sits at the head
+              Of the mighty dead,
+            On the red right hand of Odin!
+
+  He sprang, from birth, like a God on earth,
+    And soared on his victor pinions,
+  And he traversed the sea, as the eagles flee,
+    When they gaze on their blue dominions.
+  His whole earth life was a conquering strife,
+    And he lived till his beard grew hoary,
+  And he died at last, by his blood-red mast,
+    And now--he is lost in glory!
+                    So,--shout and sing, &c.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A SERENADE._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  Awake!--The starry midnight Hour
+    Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight:
+  In its own sweetness sleeps the flower;
+    And the doves lie hushed in deep delight!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Soft dews will soon arise
+    From daisied mead, and thorny brake;
+  Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes,
+    And like the tender morning break!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Dawn forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Within the musk-rose bower
+    I watch, pale flower of love, for thee;
+  Ah, come, and shew the starry Hour
+    What wealth of love thou hid'st from me!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        Shew all thy love, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  Awake!--Ne'er heed, though listening Night
+    Steal music from thy silver voice:
+  Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright,
+    And bid the world and me rejoice!
+        Awake! Awake!
+        She comes,--at last, for Love's sweet sake!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _KING DEATH._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  King Death was a rare old fellow!
+    He sate where no sun could shine;
+  And he lifted his hand so yellow,
+    And poured out his coal-black wine.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  There came to him many a Maiden,
+    Whose eyes had forgot to shine;
+  And Widows, with grief o'erladen,
+    For a draught of his sleepy wine.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  The Scholar left all his learning;
+    The Poet his fancied woes;
+  And the Beauty her bloom returning,
+    As the beads of the black wine rose.
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  All came to the royal old fellow,
+    Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine,
+  As he gave them his hand so yellow,
+    And pledged them in Death's black wine.
+              Hurrah!--Hurrah!
+              Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL._
+
+  Sit down, sad soul, and count
+    The moments flying:
+  Come,--tell the sweet amount
+    That 's lost by sighing!
+  How many smiles?--a score?
+  Then laugh, and count no more;
+        For day is dying!
+
+  Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
+    And no more measure
+  The flight of Time, nor weep
+    The loss of leisure;
+  But here, by this lone stream,
+  Lie down with us, and dream
+        Of starry treasure!
+
+  We dream: do thou the same:
+    We love--for ever:
+  We laugh; yet few we shame,
+   The gentle, never.
+  Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
+  _Then_--hope and happy skies
+        Are thine for ever!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _A DRINKING SONG._
+
+  Drink, and fill the night with mirth!
+    Let us have a mighty measure,
+  Till we quite forget the earth,
+    And soar into the world of pleasure.
+  Drink, and let a health go round,
+    ('T is the drinker's noble duty,)
+  To the eyes that shine and wound,
+    To the mouths that bud in beauty!
+
+  Here 's to Helen! Why, ah! why
+    Doth she fly from my pursuing?
+  Here 's to Marian, cold and shy!
+    May she warm before thy wooing!
+  Here 's to Janet! I 've been e'er,
+    Boy and man, her staunch defender,
+  Always sworn that she was fair,
+    Always _known_ that she was tender!
+
+  Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high!
+    Let them with the champagne tremble,
+  Like the loose wrack in the sky,
+    When the four wild winds assemble!
+  Here 's to all the love on earth,
+    (Love, the young man's, wise man's treasure!)
+  Drink, and fill your throats with mirth!
+    Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _PEACE! WHAT DO TEARS AVAIL?_
+
+  Peace! what can tears avail?
+  She lies all dumb and pale,
+    And from her eye,
+  The spirit of lovely life is fading,
+    And she must die!
+  Why looks the lover wroth? the friend upbraiding?
+    Reply, reply!
+
+  Hath she not dwelt too long
+  'Midst pain, and grief, and wrong?
+    Then, why not die?
+  Why suffer again her doom of sorrow,
+    And hopeless lie?
+  Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow?
+    Reply, reply!
+
+  Death! Take her to thine arms,
+  In all her stainless charms,
+    And with her fly
+  To heavenly haunts, where, clad in brightness,
+    The Angels lie!
+  Wilt bear her there, O Death! in all her whiteness?
+    Reply,--reply!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE SEA._
+
+  SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.
+
+  The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+  Without a mark, without a bound,
+  It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+  It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
+  Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+  I 'm on the Sea! I 'm on the Sea!
+  I am where I would ever be;
+  With the blue above, and the blue below,
+  And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+  If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+  What matter? _I_ shall ride and sleep.
+
+  I love (oh! _how_ I love) to ride
+  On the fierce foaming bursting tide,
+  When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+  Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+  And tells how goeth the world below,
+  And why the south-west blasts do blow.
+
+  I never was on the dull tame shore,
+  But I loved the great Sea more and more,
+  And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+  Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+  And a mother she _was_, and _is_ to me;
+  For I was born on the open Sea!
+
+  The waves were white, and red the morn,
+  In the noisy hour when I was born;
+  And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
+  And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+  And never was heard such an outcry wild
+  As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!
+
+  I 've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+  Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+  With wealth to spend and a power to range,
+  But never have sought, nor sighed for change;
+  And Death, whenever he come to me,
+  Shall come on the wild unbounded Sea!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.
+
+  1830-1895.
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  When I am dead, my dearest,
+    Sing no sad songs for me;
+  Plant thou no roses at my head,
+    Nor shady cypress-tree:
+  Be the green grass above me
+    With showers and dewdrops wet;
+  And if thou wilt, remember,
+    And if thou wilt, forget.
+
+  I shall not see the shadows,
+    I shall not feel the rain;
+  I shall not hear the nightingale
+    Sing on, as if in pain:
+  And dreaming through the twilight
+    That doth not rise nor set,
+  Haply I may remember,
+    And haply may forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  O roses for the flush of youth,
+    And laurel for the perfect prime;
+  But pluck an ivy branch for me
+    Grown old before my time.
+
+  O violets for the grave of youth,
+    And bay for those dead in their prime;
+  Give me the withered leaves I chose
+    Before in the old time.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
+    Two lilies on a single stem,
+  Two butterflies upon one flower:--
+    O happy they who look on them.
+
+  Who look upon them hand in hand
+    Flushed in the rosy summer light;
+  Who look upon them hand in hand
+    And never give a thought to night.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THREE SEASONS._
+
+    "A cup for hope!" she said,
+  In springtime ere the bloom was old:
+  The crimson wine was poor and cold
+    By her mouth's richer red.
+
+    "A cup for love!" how low,
+  How soft the words; and all the while
+  Her blush was rippling with a smile
+    Like summer after snow.
+
+    "A cup for memory!"
+  Cold cup that one must drain alone:
+  While autumn winds are up and moan
+    Across the barren sea.
+
+    Hope, memory, love:
+  Hope for fair morn, and love for day,
+  And memory for the evening gray
+    And solitary dove.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
+
+  1828-1882.
+
+
+  _A LITTLE WHILE._
+
+  A little while a little love
+    The hour yet bears for thee and me
+    Who have not drawn the veil to see
+  If still our heaven be lit above.
+  Thou merely, at the day's last sigh,
+    Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone;
+  And I have heard the night-wind cry
+      And deemed its speech mine own.
+
+  A little while a little love
+    The scattering autumn hoards for us
+    Whose bower is not yet ruinous
+  Nor quite unleaved our songless grove.
+  Only across the shaken boughs
+    We hear the flood-tides seek the sea,
+  And deep in both our hearts they rouse
+      One wail for thee and me.
+
+  A little while a little love
+    May yet be ours who have not said
+    The word it makes our eyes afraid
+  To know that each is thinking of.
+  Not yet the end: be our lips dumb
+    In smiles a little season yet:
+  I 'll tell thee, when the end is come,
+      How we may best forget.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SUDDEN LIGHT._
+
+      I have been here before,
+        But when or how I cannot tell:
+      I know the grass beyond the door,
+        The sweet keen smell,
+  The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
+
+      You have been mine before,--
+        How long ago I may not know:
+      But just when at that swallow's soar
+        Your neck turned so,
+  Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.
+
+      Has this been thus before?
+        And shall not thus time's eddying flight
+      Still with our lives our loves restore
+        In death's despite,
+  And day and night yield one delight once more?
+
+
+  _THREE SHADOWS._
+
+  I looked and saw your eyes
+    In the shadow of your hair,
+  As a traveller sees the stream
+    In the shadow of the wood;
+  And I said, "My faint heart sighs,
+    Ah me! to linger there,
+  To drink deep and to dream
+    In that sweet solitude."
+
+  I looked and saw your heart
+    In the shadow of your eyes,
+  As a seeker sees the gold
+    In the shadow of the stream;
+  And I said, "Ah, me! what art
+    Should win the immortal prize,
+  Whose want must make life cold
+    And Heaven a hollow dream?"
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+  I looked and saw your love
+    In the shadow of your heart,
+  As a diver sees the pearl
+    In the shadow of the sea;
+  And I murmured, not above
+    My breath, but all apart,--
+  "Ah! you can love, true girl,
+    And is your love for me?"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.
+
+  1812-1890.
+
+
+  _PARTING AND MEETING AGAIN._
+
+  Last time I parted from my Dear
+  The linnet sang from the briar-bush,
+          The throstle from the dell;
+  The stream too carolled full and clear,
+  It was the spring-time of the year,
+  And both the linnet and the thrush
+          I love them well
+  Since last I parted from my Dear.
+
+  But when he came again to me
+  The barley rustled high and low,
+          Linnet and thrush were still;
+  Yellowed the apple on the tree,
+  'T was autumn merry as it could be,
+  What time the white ships come and go
+          Under the hill;
+  They brought him back again to me,
+  Brought him safely o'er the sea.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  JOSEPH SKIPSEY.
+
+  1832
+
+
+  _A MERRY BEE._
+
+  A golden bee a-cometh
+    O'er the mere, glassy mere,
+  And a merry tale he hummeth
+          In my ear.
+
+  How he seized and kist a blossom,
+    From its tree, thorny tree,
+  Plucked and placed in Annie's bosom,
+          Hums the bee!
+
+
+  _THE SONGSTRESS._
+
+  Back flies my soul to other years,
+    When thou that charming lay repeatest,
+  When smiles were only chased by tears,
+    Yet sweeter far than smiles the sweetest.
+
+  Thy music ends, and where are they?
+    Those golden times by memory cherished?
+  O, Syren, sing no more that lay,
+    Or sing till I like them have perished!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE VIOLET AND THE ROSE._
+
+  The Violet invited my kiss,--
+    I kissed it and called it my bride;
+  "Was ever one slighted like this?"
+    Sighed the Rose as it stood by my side.
+
+  My heart ever open to grief,
+    To comfort the fair one I turned;
+  "Of fickle ones thou art the chief!"
+    Frowned the Violet, and pouted and mourned.
+
+  Then, to end all disputes, I entwined
+    The love-stricken blossoms in one;
+  But that instant their beauty declined,
+    And I wept for the deed I had done!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  J. ASHBY STERRY.
+
+
+  _REGRETS._
+
+  I.
+
+  O for the look of those pure grey eyes--
+    Seeming to plead and speak--
+  The parted lips and the deep-drawn sighs,
+    The blush on the kissen cheek!
+
+  II.
+
+  O for the tangle of soft brown hair,
+    Lazily blown by the breeze;
+  The fleeting hours unshadowed by care,
+    Shaded by tremulous trees!
+
+  III.
+
+  O for the dream of those sunny days,
+    With their bright unbroken spell,
+  And the thrilling sweet untutored praise--
+    From the lips once loved so well!
+
+  IV.
+
+  O for the feeling of days agone,
+    The simple faith and the truth,
+  The spring of time and life's rosy dawn--
+    O for the love and the youth!
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _DAISY'S DIMPLES._
+
+  I.
+
+  Little dimples so sweet and soft,
+    Love the cheek of my love:
+  The mark of Cupid's dainty hand,
+    Before he wore a glove.
+
+  II.
+
+  Laughing dimples of tender love
+    Smile on my darling's cheek;
+  Sweet hallowed spots where kisses lurk,
+    And play at hide and seek.
+
+  III.
+
+  Fain would I hide my kisses there
+    At morning's rosy light,
+  To come and seek them back again
+    In silver hush of night.
+
+
+  _A LOVER'S LULLABY._
+
+  I.
+
+  Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love,
+    See how they glitter and shine!
+  Quick fly such moments divine, love,
+    Link your lithe fingers in mine!
+
+  II.
+
+  Lay your soft cheek against mine, love,
+    Pillow your head on my breast;
+  While your brown locks I entwine, love,
+    Pout your red lips when they 're prest!
+
+  III.
+
+  Mirror your fate, then, in mine, love;
+    Sorrow and sighing resign:
+  Life is too short to repine, love,
+    Link your fair future in mine!
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.
+
+  1837.
+
+
+  _A MATCH._
+
+  If love were what the rose is,
+    And I were like the leaf,
+  Our lives would grow together
+  In sad or singing weather,
+  Blown fields or flowerful closes,
+    Green pleasure or grey grief;
+  If love were what the rose is,
+    And I were like the leaf.
+
+  If I were what the words are,
+    And love were like the tune,
+  With double sound or single
+  Delight our lips would mingle,
+  With kisses glad as birds are
+    That get sweet rain at noon;
+  If I were what the words are,
+    And love were like the tune.
+
+  If you were life, my darling,
+    And I your love were death,
+  We 'd shine and snow together
+  Ere March made sweet the weather
+  With daffodil and starling
+    And hours of fruitful breath;
+  If you were life, my darling,
+    And I your love were death.
+
+  If you were thrall to sorrow,
+    And I were page to joy,
+  We 'd play for lives and seasons
+  With loving looks and treasons
+  And tears of night and morrow
+    And laughs of maid and boy;
+  If you were thrall to sorrow,
+    And I were page to joy.
+
+  If you were April's lady,
+    And I were lord in May,
+  We 'd throw with leaves for hours
+  And draw for days with flowers,
+  Till day like night were shady
+    And night were bright like day;
+  If you were April's lady,
+    And I were lord in May.
+
+  If you were queen of pleasure,
+    And I were king of pain,
+  We 'd hunt down love together,
+  Pluck out his flying-feather,
+    And teach his feet a measure,
+  And find his mouth a rein;
+    If you were queen of pleasure,
+  And I were king of pain.
+
+
+  _RONDEL._
+
+  Kissing her hair I sat against her feet,
+  Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet;
+  Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes,
+  Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies;
+  With her own tresses bound and found her fair,
+          Kissing her hair.
+
+  Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,
+  Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;
+  What pain could get between my face and hers?
+  What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?
+  Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,
+          Kissing her hair?
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SONG._
+
+  FROM "FELISE."
+
+  O lips that mine have grown into
+    Like April's kissing May,
+  O fervent eyelids letting through
+  Those eyes the greenest of things blue,
+    The bluest of things gray,
+
+  If you were I and I were you,
+    How could I love you, say?
+  How could the roseleaf love the rue,
+  The day love nightfall and her dew,
+    Though night may love the day?
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+  1809-1892.
+
+
+  _THE BUGLE SONG._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+      The splendour falls on castle walls
+        And snowy summits old in story:
+      The long light shakes across the lakes,
+        And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+  Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+  Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+        And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+      O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+        The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+  Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+  Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+        They faint on hill or field or river:
+      Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
+        And grow for ever and for ever.
+  Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+  And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _BREAK, BREAK, BREAK._
+
+  Break, break, break,
+    On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+  And I would that my tongue could utter
+    The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+  O well for the fisherman's boy,
+    That he shouts with his sister at play!
+  O well for the sailor lad,
+    That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+  And the stately ships go on
+    To their haven under the hill;
+  But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+    And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+  Break, break, break,
+    At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+  But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+    Will never come back to me.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _TEARS, IDLE TEARS._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+    Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
+  Tears from the depth of some divine despair
+  Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
+  In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
+  And thinking of the days that are no more.
+
+    Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
+  That brings our friends up from the underworld,
+  Sad as the last which reddens over one
+  That sinks with all we love below the verge;
+  So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
+
+    Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
+  The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
+  To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
+  The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
+  So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
+
+    Dear as remembered kisses after death,
+  And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
+  On lips that are for others; deep as love,
+  Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
+  O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _SWEET AND LOW._
+
+  FROM "THE PRINCESS."
+
+  Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+    Wind of the western sea,
+  Low, low, breathe and blow,
+    Wind of the western sea!
+  Over the rolling waters go,
+  Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+    Blow him again to me;
+  While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
+
+  Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+    Father will come to thee soon;
+  Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+    Father will come to thee soon;
+  Father will come to his babe in the nest,
+  Silver sails all out of the west
+    Under the silver moon:
+  Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
+
+
+  _TURN, FORTUNE, TURN THY WHEEL._
+
+  FROM "THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT."
+
+    Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;
+  Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
+  Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
+
+    Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
+  With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
+  Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
+
+    Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
+  Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
+  For man is man and master of his fate.
+
+    Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
+  Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
+  Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
+
+
+  _VIVIEN'S SONG._
+
+  FROM "MERLIN AND VIVIEN."
+
+    In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
+  Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers:
+  Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.
+
+    It is the little rift within the lute,
+  That by and by will make the music mute,
+  And ever widening slowly silence all.
+
+    The little rift within the lover's lute
+  Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
+  That rotting inward slowly moulders all.
+
+    It is not worth the keeping: let it go:
+  But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
+  And trust me not at all or all in all.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
+
+  1811-1863.
+
+
+  _AT THE CHURCH GATE._
+
+  FROM "PENDENNIS."
+
+  Although I enter not,
+  Yet round about the spot
+    Ofttimes I hover:
+  And near the sacred gate,
+  With longing eyes I wait,
+    Expectant of her.
+
+  The Minster bell tolls out
+  Above the city's rout,
+    And noise and humming:
+  They 've hushed the Minster bell:
+  The organ 'gins to swell:
+    She 's coming, she 's coming!
+
+  My lady comes at last,
+  Timid, and stepping fast,
+    And hastening hither,
+  With modest eyes downcast:
+  She comes--she 's here--she 's past--
+    May heaven go with her!
+
+  Kneel, undisturbed, fair saint!
+  Pour out your praise or plaint
+    Meekly and duly;
+  I will not enter there,
+  To sully your pure prayer
+    With thoughts unruly.
+
+  But suffer me to pace
+  Round the forbidden place,
+    Lingering a minute;
+  Like outcast spirits who wait
+  And see through heaven's gate
+    Angels within it.
+
+
+  _THE MAHOGANY TREE._
+
+  Christmas is here;
+  Winds whistle shrill,
+  Icy and chill,
+  Little care we:
+  Little we fear
+  Weather without
+  Sheltered about
+  The Mahogany Tree.
+
+  Once on the boughs
+  Birds of rare plume
+  Sang, in its bloom;
+  Night-birds are we:
+  Here we carouse,
+  Singing like them,
+  Perched round the stem
+  Of the jolly old tree.
+
+  Here let us sport,
+  Boys, as we sit;
+  Laughter and wit
+  Flashing so free.
+  Life is but short--
+  When we are gone,
+  Let them sing on,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Evenings we knew,
+  Happy as this;
+  Faces we miss,
+  Pleasant to see.
+  Kind hearts and true,
+  Gentle and just,
+  Peace to your dust!
+  We sing round the tree.
+
+  Care, like a dun,
+  Lurks at the gate:
+  Let the dog wait;
+  Happy we 'll be!
+  Drink, every one;
+  Pile up the coals,
+  Fill the red bowls,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Drain we the cup.--
+  Friend, art afraid?
+  Spirits are laid
+  In the Red Sea.
+  Mantle it up;
+  Empty it yet;
+  Let us forget,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+  Sorrows, begone!
+  Life and its ills,
+  Duns and their bills,
+  Bid we to flee.
+  Come with the dawn,
+  Blue-devil sprite,
+  Leave us to-night,
+  Round the old tree.
+
+
+
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+  GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY.
+
+  1828-1876.
+
+
+  _DAYRISE AND SUNSET._
+
+  When Spring casts all her swallows forth
+    Into the blue and lambent air,
+  When lilacs toss their purple plumes
+    And every cherry-tree grows fair,--
+  Through fields with morning tints a-glow
+  I take my rod and singing go.
+
+  Where lilies float on broad green leaves
+    Below the ripples of the mill,
+  When the white moth is hovering
+    In the dim sky so hushed and still,
+  I watch beneath the pollard ash
+  The greedy trout leap up and splash.
+
+  Or down where golden water flowers
+    Are wading in the shallow tide,
+  While still the dusk is tinged with rose
+    Like a brown cheek o'erflushed with pride--
+  I throw the crafty fly and wait;
+  Watching the big trout eye the bait.
+
+  It is the lover's twilight-time,
+    And there 's a magic in the hour,
+  But I forget the sweets of love
+    And all love's tyranny and power,
+  And with my feather-hidden steel
+  Sigh but to fill my woven creel.
+
+  Then upward darkling through the copse
+    I push my eager homeward way,
+  Through glades of drowsy violets
+    That never see the golden day.
+  Yes! while the night comes soft and slow
+  I take my rod and singing go.
+
+
+  [Illustration: Full-page Plate]
+
+
+  _THE THREE TROOPERS._
+
+  DURING THE PROTECTORATE.
+
+  Into the Devil tavern
+    Three booted troopers strode,
+  From spur to feather spotted and splashed
+    With the mud of a winter road.
+  In each of their cups they dropped a crust,
+    And stared at the guests with a frown;
+  Then drew their swords, and roared for a toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  A blue smoke rose from their pistol locks,
+    Their sword blades were still wet;
+  There were long red smears on their jerkins of buff,
+    As the table they overset.
+  Then into their cups they stirred the crusts,
+    And cursed old London town;
+  They waved their swords, and drank with a stamp,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  The 'prentice dropped his can of beer,
+    The host turned pale as a clout;
+  The ruby nose of the toping squires
+    Grew white at the wild men's shout.
+  Then into their cups they flung their crusts,
+    And shewed their teeth with a frown;
+  They flashed their swords as they gave the toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  The gambler dropped his dog's-ear'd cards,
+    The waiting-women screamed,
+  As the light of the fire, like stains of blood,
+    On the wild men's sabres gleamed.
+  Then into their cups they splashed their crusts,
+    And cursed the fool of a town,
+  And leapt on the table, and roared a toast,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  Till on a sudden fire-bells rang,
+    And the troopers sprang to horse;
+  The eldest muttered between his teeth,
+    Hot curses--deep and coarse.
+  In their stirrup cups they flung the crusts,
+    And cried as they spurred through the town,
+  With their keen swords drawn and their pistols cocked,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  Away they dashed through Temple Bar,
+    Their red cloaks flowing free,
+  Their scabbards clashed, each back-piece shone--
+    None liked to touch the three.
+  The silver cups that held the crusts
+    They flung to the startled town,
+  Shouting again, with a blaze of swords,
+    "God send this Crum-well-down!"
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+
+  _THE CUCKOO._
+
+  When a warm and scented steam
+    Rises from the flowering earth;
+  When the green leaves are all still,
+    And the song birds cease their mirth;
+  In the silence before rain
+  Comes the cuckoo back again.
+
+  When the Spring is all but gone--
+    Tearful April, laughing May--
+  When a hush comes on the woods,
+    And the sunbeams cease to play;
+  In the silence before rain
+  Comes the cuckoo back again.
+
+  [Decoration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies:
+
+  FROM "SYLVIA": _Act IV. Scene I_.
+    [_should be "Scene i"_]
+  I watched the long, long, shade,  [_all commas as printed_]
+  _THE LONG WHITE SEAM._  [_final . missing or invisible_]
+  [Locker-Lampson] _THE CUCKOO._  [_printed , for ._]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Victorian Songs, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SONGS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26715.txt or 26715.zip *****
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