You good when suffering and awake?

What cure your head and side? — '

"What would cure, that would kill me, Jane : And as I must on earth abide Awhile, yet tempt me not to break My chain."

LINES.

I.

WHEN the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead-
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

II.

As music and splendour

Survive not the lamp and the lute,

The heart's echoes render

No song when the spirit is mute :

No song but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges

That ring the dead seaman's knell.

III.

When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest,
The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possest.
O, Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home and your bier?

IV.

Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high:

Bright reason will mock thee,

Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter,

When leaves fall and cold winds come.

TO JANE-THE INVITATION.

BEST and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,

Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.

The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,

Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born;

Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the Earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains
And like a prophetess of May

Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear

Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs
To the silent wilderness

Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
For each accustomed visitor:
"I am gone into the fields

To take what this sweet hour yields;
Reflection, you may come to-morrow,
Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.
You with the unpaid bill, Despair,-
You tiresome verse-reciter, Care, -
I will pay you in the grave,

Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off!

To-day is for itself enough;
Hope in pity mock not Woe
With smiles, nor follow where I go ;
Long having lived on thy sweet food,
At length I find one moment's good
After long pain-with all your love,
This you never told me of."

Radiant sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
And the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green and ivy dun
Round stems that never kiss the sun;
Where the lawns and pastures be,

And the sandhills of the sea;

Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers, and violets,
Which yet join not scent to hue,
Crown the pale year weak and new ;
When the night is left behind

In the deep east, dun and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,

And the multitudinous

Billows murmur at our feet,

Where the earth and ocean meet,

And all things seem only one

In the universal sun.