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Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;

And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black, and he from white cloud free,

And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear

To lean in joy upon our father's knee ;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.


OTHOU with dewy locks, who lookest down
Through the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring !
The hills tell each other, and the list’ning
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions : issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumèd garments ; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers ; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom ; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.



PIPING down the valleys wild, Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;

Piping songs of pleasant glee, Sing thy songs of happy cheer: On a cloud I saw a child,

So I sang the same again, And he laughing said to me : While he wept with joy to hear. 'Pipe a song about a Lamb!' ‘Piper, sit thee down and write

So I piped with merry cheer. In a book, that all may read.' ' Piper, pipe that song again ; So he vanished from my sight, So I piped : he wept to hear. And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.


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60. THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD YOUTH of delight, come hither, How many have fallen there ! And see the opening morn, They stumble all night over bones Image of truth new-born.

of the dead, Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason, And feel they know not what but Dark disputes and artful teasing. care, Folly is an endless maze,

And wish to lead others, when Tangled roots perplex her ways. they should be led.


On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood
Uplift their shadowy heads, and at their feet
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,
Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood ;
And while the distant murmur met his ear,
And o'er the distant billows the still eve
Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart must leave
To-morrow; of the friends he loved most dear ;
Of social scenes from which he wept to part.
But if, like me, he knew how fruitless all
The thoughts that would full fain the past recall;
Soon would he quell the risings of his heart,
And brave the wild winds and unhearing tide,
The world his country, and his God his guide.


62. IN THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY In the merry month of May, She said, Maids must kiss no men In a morn by break of day, Till they did for good and all ; Forth I walked by the wood-side, Then she made the shepherd call Whenas May was in his pride : All the heavens to witness truth There I spièd all alone

Never loved a truer youth. Phillida and Corydon.

Thus with many a pretty oath, Much ado there was, God wot! Yea and nay, faith and troth, He would love and she would not. Such as silly shepherds use She said, Never man was true ; When they will not love abuse, He said, None was false to you. Love, which had been long deHe said, He had loved her long ; luded, She said, Love should have no Was with kisses sweet concluded; wrong.

And Phillida with garlands gay Corydon would kiss her then ; Was made the Lady of the May.

Now next, my gallant youths, farewell ;

My lads that oft have cheered my heart !
My grief of mind no tongue can tell,

To think that I must from you part.
I now must leave you all, alas,
And live with some old lobcock ass !
And now, farewell, thou gallant lute,

With instruments of music's sounds :
Recorder, cittern, harp and flute,

And heavenly descants on sweet grounds;
I now must leave you all, indeed,
And make some music on a reed !




And now, farewell, both spear and shield,

Caliver, pistol, arquebus ;
See, see, what sighs my heart doth yield,

To think that I must leave you thus ;
And lay aside my rapier blade,
And take in hand a ditching spade.

And now, farewell, each dainty dish,

With sundry sorts of sugared wine!
Farewell, I say, fine flesh and fish,

To please this dainty mouth of mine !
I now, alas, must leave all these,
And make good cheer with bread and cheese.


I HAVE been in love, and in debt, and in drink,

This many and many a year,
And those are three plagues enough, any should think,

For one poor mortal to bear.
'Twas love made me fall into drink,

And drink made me run into debt,
And though I have struggled, and struggled, and strove,

I cannot get out of them yet.

There's nothing but money can cure me,
And rid me all my pain !

'Twill pay all my debts,

And remove all my lets,
And my mistress, that cannot endure me,

Will love me, and love me again :
Then I'll fall to my loving and drinking amain !



'Tis not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure,
Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure,
Nor for that old morality
Do I love her, 'cause she loves me.
Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she's fair,
Delights his eye, so loves himself, not her.
Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but know not how, nor why.



No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere :

I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity !

Life-that in me has rest,
As I-undying life-have power in Thee !

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts : unutterably vain ;

Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;

So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years,

Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,

And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in thee.

There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void :

Thou—Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.


67. THE OLD STOIC RICHES I hold in light esteem,

And Love I laugh to scorn ;
And lust of fame was but a dream,

That vanished with the morn:
And if I pray,

the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear,

And give me liberty!'
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,

'Tis all that I implore ;
In life and death a chainless soul,

With courage to endure.


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