And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep; Which is a soul within the soul Like echoes of an antenatal dream. they seem It is an isle 'twixt Heaven, Air, Earth, and Sea, Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer, The winged storms, chanting their thunder-psalm Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less Percy B. Shelley I SMELL THE MEADOW IN THE STREET. OORS, where my heart was used to beat D° So quickly, not as one that weeps I come once more; the city sleeps ; I hear a chirp of birds; I see Betwixt the black fronts long-withdrawn Tennyson ON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, LONDON. E ARTH has not any thing to show more fair. Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty; This city now doth like a garment wear All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep. Wordsworth. LEAVING THE CITY. E left the city, street and square, WE With lamplights glimmering through and And turned us toward the suburb, where — One cloud stood overhead the sun, Wet was the grass beneath our tread, The lichen had a lovelier red, The elder-flower a fairer gray. And there was silence on the land, The beeches sighed through all their boughs; The gusty pennons of the pine Swayed in a melancholy drowse, But with a motion sternly fine. One gable, full against the sun, From all its honeysuckled breath. Then crew the cocks from echoing farms, The sun was up, the country woke ! Unknown HOLIDAYS. MILES of the year! that now and then Butterfly hours! among the bees That toil in sober dress; Joy bells that ecstasy outpour Over the crush and press; Ring on, blithe bells, right merrily: Gold gleams! that light the sullen sea, Gray fields to emerald to transform, And heather'd hills, that slept in fern, Ring on, sweet bells, ring on! Ah, why Unknown. IN THE LANE. HE daisies star the summer grass; THE And, with the dancing leaves at play, I love the sweet, sequestered place, I see the drooping roses trail From tangled hedgerows to the ground; And here, adown the shady walk, In days divine now passed away, Entranced, I listened to the talk, That ever held my heart in sway. |