s come back again?
At La Chaudeau
A Quiet Life
The Wine of Jurancon
Friar Lubin
Rondel
My Secret
From the Italian.
The Celestial Pilot
The Terrestrial Paradise
Beatrice
To Italy
Seven Sonnets and a Canzone
I. The Artist
II. Fire.
III. Youth and Age
IV. Old Age
V. To Vittoria Colonna
VI. To Vittoria Colonna
VII. Dante
VIII. Canzone
The Nature of Love
From the Portuguese.
Song: If thou art sleeping, maiden
From Eastern sources.
The Fugitive
The Siege of Kazan
The Boy and the Brook
To the Stork
From the Latin.
Virgils First Eclogue
Ovid in Exile
VOICES OF THE NIGHT
PRELUDE.
Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
And winds were soft and low,
To lie amid some sylvan scene.
Where, the long drooping boughs between,
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
Alternate come and go;
Or where the denser grove receives
No sunlight from above,
But the dark foliage interweaves
In one unbroken roof of leaves,
Underneath whose sloping eaves
The shadows hardly move.
Beneath some patriarchal tree
I lay upon the ground;
His hoary arms uplifted he,
And all the broad leaves over me
Clapped their little hands in glee,
With one continuous sound;--
A slumberous sound, a sound that brings
The feelings of a dream,
As of innumerable wings,
As, when a bell no longer swings,
Faint the hollow murmur rings
O'er meadow, lake, and stream.
And dreams of that which cannot die,
Bright visions, came to me,
As lapped in thought I used to lie,
And gaze into the summer sky,
Where the sailing clouds went by,
Like ships upon the sea;
Dreams that the soul of youth engage
Ere Fancy has been quelled;
Old legends of the monkish page,
Traditions of the saint and sage,
Tales that have the rime of age,
And chronicles of Eld.
And, loving still these quaint old themes,
Even in the city's throng
I feel the freshness of the streams,
That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams,
Water the green land of dreams,
The holy land of song.
Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings
The Spring, clothed like a bride,
When nestling buds unfold their wings,
And bishop's-cap
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