I wish I had not, as I must, To quit this tempting lattice. Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering foe, A thread of silk to string his bow, WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. W SONG OF ARIEL. [FROM THE TEMPEST."] HERE the bee sucks, there suck I; There I couch when owls do cry; After summer, merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough! SHAKESPEARE. TO A COLD BEAUTY. L I. ADY, wouldst thou heiress be To Winter's cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free, Thou dost still lock up thy heart; II. Scorn and cold neglect are made III. When the little buds unclose, Red, and white, and pied, and blue, Wilt thou lock thy bosom up, IV. Let not cold December sit HOOD. I CANNOT see the features right, When on the gloom I strive to paint The face I know; the hues are faint And mix with hollow masks of night: Cloud-towers by ghostly masons wrought, And crowds that stream from yawning doors, Till all at once beyond the will I hear a wizard music roll, And through a lattice on the soul Looks thy fair face and makes it still. In Memoriam. ULALUME. HE skies they were ashen and sober; It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, Here once, through an alley titanic, cypress, I roam'd with my Soul- These were days when my heart was volcanic As the scoriac rivers that roll As the lavas that restlessly roll Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek Our talk had been serious and sober, But our thoughts they were palsied and sere— Our memories were treacherous and sereFor we knew not the month was October, And we mark'd not the night of the year— (Ah, night of all nights in the year!) We noted not the dim lake of Auber(Though once we had journey'd down here)— Remember'd not the dank tarn of Auber, Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. And now as the night was senescent And I said " She is warmer than Dian: She has seen that the tears are not dry on And has come past the stars of the Lion To shine on us with her bright eyes Come up through the lair of the Lion, But Psyche, uplifting her finger, I replied " This is nothing but dreaming: With Hope and in Beauty to-night :- That cannot but guide us aright, As it flickers up to Heaven through the night." Thus I pacified Psyche and kiss'd her, And I said " What is written, sweet sister, Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crispèd and sere |