MUTABILITY.

THE flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies:

All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.

What is this world's delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.

Virtue how frail it is!

Friendship how rare!

Love how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!

But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.

Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay,

Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day,

Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou-and from thy sleep Then wake to weep.

SONNET.

POLITICAL GREATNESS.

NOR happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,
Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or

arts,

Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes

tame :

Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts; History is but the shadow of their shame ;

Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts; As to oblivion their blind millions fleet,

Staining that heaven with obscene imagery Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit By force or custom? Man who man would be Must rule the empire of himself; in it Must be supreme, establishing his throne

On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.

LINES.

IF I walk in Autumn's even

While the dead leaves pass,

If I look on Spring's soft heaven,—
Something is not there which was.
Winter's wondrous frost and snow,
Summer's clouds, where are they now

?

TO-MORROW.

WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?
When, young and old, and strong and weak,
Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,
In thy place—ah well-a-day !——
We find the thing we fled--To-day.

THE AZIOLA.

"Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh," Said Mary, as we sate

In dusk, ere the stars were lit or candles brought. And I, who thought

This Aziola was some tedious woman,

How elate

Asked "Who is Aziola?"
I felt to know that it was nothing human,
No mockery of myself to fear and hate!
And Mary saw my soul,

And laughed and said, "Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl."

Sad Aziola! many an eventide

Thy music I have heard

By wood and stream, meadow and mountain

side,

And fields and marshes wide,

Such as nor voice nor lute nor wind nor bird

The soul ever stirred

Unlike and far sweeter than they all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I
Loved thee and thy sad cry.

A LAMENT.

O WORLD! O life! O time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I stood before,—
When will return the glory of your prime
No more-oh never more!

Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight :

Fresh Spring, and Summer, Autumn, and
Winter hoar,

Move my faint heart with grief,—but with delight No more, oh never more!

REMEMBRANCE.

SWIFTER far than summer's flight,
Swifter far than happy night,

Swifter far than youth's delight,

Art thou come and gone :

As the earth when leaves are dead,
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
I am left lone, alone.

The swallow summer comes again,
The owlet night resumes her reign,
But the wild swan youth is fain
To fly with thee, false as thou.
My heart to-day desires to-morrow;
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow;
Vainly would my winter borrow

Sunny leaves from any bough.

Lilies for a bridal bed,
Roses for a matron's head,
Violets for a maiden dead;
Pansies let my flowers be:

On the living grave I bear
Scatter them without a tear,
Let no friend, however dear,
Waste a hope, a fear, for me.

ΤΟ

ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it ;

One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it ;