Build, at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount,
Who shall complain, or call thee to account?
The wisest, happiest, of our kind are they

That ever walk content with Nature's way,

For whom the gravest thought of what they miss,
Chastening the fulness of a present bliss,

Is with that wholesome office satisfied,
While unrepining sadness is allied

In thankful bosoms to a modest pride.

1834.

VI.

SOFT as a cloud is yon blue Ridge, -the Mere
Seems firm as solid crystal, breathless, clear,
And motionless; and, to the gazer's eye,
Deeper than ocean, in the immensity
Of its vague mountains and unreal sky!
But, from the process in that still retreat,
Turn to minuter changes at our feet;
Observe how dewy Twilight has withdrawn
The crowd of daisies from the shaven lawn,
And has restored to view its tender green,

That, while the sun rode high, was lost beneath

their dazzling sheen.

An emblem this of what the sober Hour

Can do for minds disposed to feel its power!

Of unsubstantial imagery, the dream,

From the hushed vale's realities, transferred
To the still lake) the imaginative Bird

Seems, 'mid inverted mountains, not unheard.

Grave Creature !

shines bright

- whether, while the moon

On thy wings opened wide for smoothest flight, Thou art discovered in a roofless tower,

Rising from what may once have been a lady's bower;

Or spied where thou sitt'st moping in thy mew
At the dim centre of a churchyard yew ;

Or, from a rifted crag or ivy tod

Deep in a forest, thy secure abode,

Thou giv'st, for pastime's sake, by shriek or shout, A puzzling notice of thy whereabout, —

May the night never come, nor day be seen, When I shall scorn thy voice or mock thy mien !

In classic ages men perceived a soul Of sapience in thy aspect, heedless Owl! Thee Athens reverenced in the studious grove; And, near the golden sceptre grasped by Jove, His Eagle's favorite perch, while round him sat The Gods revolving the decrees of Fate, Thou, too, wert present at Minerva's side: Hark to that second larum!- far and wide

The elements have heard, and rock and cave re

plied.

1834.

VIII.

[This Impromptu appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. It is reprinted, at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off.]

THE sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and trees;

There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,

And the cuckoo's sovereign cry

Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would go "parading"
In London," and masquerading,"
On such a night of June,

With that beautiful, soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?

On such a night as this is!

1804.

IX.

COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOR AND BEAUTY.

I.

HAD this effulgence disapppeared

With flying haste, I might have sent,

Among the speechless clouds, a look
Of blank astonishment;

But 't is endued with power to stay,
And sanctify one closing day,

That frail Mortality may see

What is?

- ah no, but what can be!

Time was when field and watery cove
With modulated echoes rang,

While choirs of fervent Angels sang

Their vespers in the grove;

Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,
Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,

Strains suitable to both. Such holy rite,
Methinks, if audibly repeated now

From hill or valley, could not move

Sublimer transport, purer love,

Than doth this silent spectacle, - the gleam,

The shadow, and the peace supreme!

And solemn harmony pervades

The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,

Called forth by wondrous potency
Of beamy radiance, that imbues
Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues!

In vision exquisitely clear,

Herds range along the mountain-side;