4

THE clouds have left the sky,
The wind hath left the sea,
The half-moon up on high
Shrinketh her face of dree

She lightens on the comb
Of leaden waves, that roar
And thrust their hurried foam
Up on the dusky shore.

Behind the western bars
The shrouded day retreats,
And unperceived the stars
Steal to their sovran seats.

And whiter grows the foam,

The small moon lightens more ;

And as I turn me home,

My shadow walks before.

5

LAST WEEK OF FEBRUARY, 1890

HARK to the merry birds, hark how they sing! Although 'tis not yet spring

And keen the air;

Hale Winter, half resigning ere he go,

Doth to his heiress shew

His kingdom fair.

In patient russet is his forest spread,
All bright with bramble red,

With beechen moss

And holly sheen: the oak silver and stark

Sunneth his aged bark

And wrinkled boss.

But neath the ruin of the withered brake

Primroses now awake

From nursing shades:

The crumpled carpet of the dry leaves brown
Avails not to keep down

The hyacinth blades.

The hazel hath put forth his tassels ruffed;
The willow's flossy tuft

Hath slipped him free:

The rose amid her ransacked orange hips
Braggeth the tender tips

Of bowers to be.

A black rook stirs the branches here and there,
Foraging to repair

His broken home:

And hark, on the ash-boughs! Never thrush did sing
Louder in praise of spring,

When spring is come.

6

APRIL, 1885

WANTON with long delay the gay spring leaping cometh; The blackthorn starreth now his bough on the eve of May: All day in the sweet box-tree the bee for pleasure hummeth: The cuckoo sends afloat his note on the air all day.

Now dewy nights again and rain in gentle shower

At root of tree and flower have quenched the winter's drouth:
On high the hot sun smiles, and banks of cloud uptower
In bulging heads that crowd for miles the dazzling south.

7

GÁY Róbin is seen no more:
He is gone with the snow,
For winter is o'er

And Robin will go.

In need he was fed, and now he is fled

Away to his secret nest.

No more will he stand
Begging for crumbs,
No longer he comes
Beseeching our hand
And showing his breast
At window and door :-
Gay Robin is seen no more.

Blithe Robin is heard no more:

He gave us his song

When summer was o'er

And winter was long:

He sang for his bread and now he is fled

Away to his secret nest.

And there in the green
Early and late

Alone to his mate

He pipeth unseen

And swelleth his breast;

For us it is o'er :

Blithe Robin is heard no more.

8

SPRING goeth all in white,
Crowned with milk-white may :
In fleecy flocks of light

O'er heaven the white clouds stray:

White butterflies in the air; White daisies prank the ground: The cherry and hoary pear

Scatter their snow around.

9

My eyes for beauty pine,
My soul for Goddës grace:
No other care nor hope is mine;
To heaven I turn my face.

One splendour thence is shed
From all the stars above:

'Tis named when God's name is said, 'Tis Love, 'tis heavenly Love.

And every gentle heart,

That burns with true desire,

Is lit from eyes that mirror part

Of that celestial fire.

10

O Love, my muse, how was 't for me

Among the best to dare,

In thy high courts that bowed the knee With sacrifice and prayer?

Their mighty offerings at thy shrine
Shamed me, who nothing bore
Their suits were mockeries of mine,
I sued for so much more.

Full many I met that crowned with bay
In triumph home returned,
And many a master on the way
Proud of the prize I scorned.

I wished no garland on my head
Nor treasure in my hand;
My gift the longing that me led,
My prayer thy high command,

My love, my muse; and when I spake
Thou mad'st me thine that day,

And more than hundred hearts could take
Gav'st me to bear away.

I I

LOVE on my heart from heaven fell,
Soft as the dew on flowers of spring,
Sweet as the hidden drops that swell
Their honey-throated chalicing.

Now never from him do I part,
Hosanna evermore I cry :
I taste his savour in my heart,
And bid all praise him as do I.

Without him noughtsoever is,
Nor was afore, nor e'er shall be:
Nor any other joy than his
Wish I for mine to comfort me.