And the leaves, brown, yellow, and gray, and red, And the gusty winds waked the winged seeds, 35 Till they clung round many a sweet flower's stem, 40 The water-blooms under the rivulet Fell from the stalks on which they were set; As the winds did those of the upper air. 45 Then the rain came down, and the broken stalks, Were bent and tangled across the walks; And the leafless net-work of parasite bowers Between the time of the wind and the snow, 50 All loathliest weeds began to grow, Whose coarse leaves were splashed with many a speck, Like the water-snake's belly and the toad's back. And thistles, and nettles, and darnels rank, And the dock, and henbane, and hemlock dank, 55 Stretched out its long and hollow shank, And plants, at whose names the verse feels loath, 60 And agarics, and fungi, with mildew and mould With a spirit of growth had been animated! 65 Their moss rotted off them, flake by flake, Till the thick stalk stuck like a murderer's stake, Spawn, weeds, and filth, a leprous scum, 70 Made the running rivulet thick and dumb And at its outlet flags huge as stakes Dammed it up with roots knotted like water-snakes. And hour by hour, when the air was still, 75 And unctuous meteors from spray to spray 80 The Sensitive Plant like one forbid Wept, and the tears within each lid Of its folded leaves which together grew Were changed to a blight of frozen glue. 85 For the leaves soon fell, and the branches soon For Winter came: the wind was his whip: He had torn the cataracts from the hills His breath was a chain which without a sound Then the weeds which were forms of living death And under the roots of the Sensitive Plant First there came down a thawing rain And its dull drops froze on the boughs again; And a northern whirlwind, wandering about 90 95 100 105 IIO When winter had gone and spring came back 115 But the mandrakes, and toadstools, and docks, and darnels, Rose like the dead from their ruined charnels. CONCLUSION. Whether the Sensitive Plant, or that Whether that Lady's gentle mind, I dare not guess; but in this life And we the shadows of the dream, 5 10 And all sweet shapes and odours there, 'Tis we, 'tis ours, are changed; not they. For love, and beauty, and delight, There is no death nor change: their might 20 THE CLOUD. I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, I sift the snow on the mountains below, And all the night 't is my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast. Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, Lightning my pilot sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, - Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, Lured by the love of the genii that move Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, 5 IO 15 20 25 30 |