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Now, threatening like a storm-charged cloud;
Now, cooing like a woodland dove;

Now, up again in roar and wrath
High soaring and wide sweeping; now,

With sudden fury dashing down
Full-force on the awaiting woods.

Long waited there, for aspens frail
That tinkle with a silver bell,

To warn the Zephyr of their love,
When danger is at hand, and wake

The neighbouring boughs, surrendering all
Their prophetharmony of leaves,

Had caught his earliest windward thought,
And told it trembling; naked birk

Down showering her dishevelled hair,
And like a beauty yielding up

Her fate to all the elements,
Had swayed in answer; hazels close,

Thick brambles and dark brushwood tufts,
And briared brakes that line the dells

With shaggy beetling brows, had sung
Shrill music, while the tattered flaws

Tore over them, and now the whole
Tumultuous concords, seized at once

With savage inspiration,--pine,
And larch, and beech, and fir, and thorn,

And ash, and oak, and oakling, rave
And shriek, and shout, and whirl, and toss,

And stretch their arms, and split, and crack,
And bend their stems, and bow their heads,

And grind, and groan, and lion-like
Roar to the echo-peopled hills

And ravenous wilds, and crake-like cry
With harsh delight, and cave-like call

With hollow mouth, and harp-like thrill
With mighty melodies, sublime,

From clumps of column'd pines that wave
A lofty anthem to the sky,

Fit music for a prophet's soul -
And like an ocean gathering power,

And murmuring deep, while down below
Reigns calm profound;--not trembling now

The aspens, but like freshening waves
That fall upon a shingly beach; -

And round the oak a solemn roll
Of organ harmony ascends,

And in the upper foliage sounds
A symphony of distant seas.

The voice of nature is abroad
This night; she fills the air with balm;

Her mystery is o'er the land;
And who that hears her now and yields

His being to her yearning tones,
And seats his soul upon her wings,

And broadens o'er the wind-swept world
With her, will gather in the flight

More knowledge of her secret, more
Delight in her beneficence,

Than hours of musing, or the lore
That lives with men could ever give!

Nor will it pass away when morn
Shall look upon the lulling leaves,

And woodlandsunshine, Eden-sweet,
Dreams o'er the paths of peaceful shade; -

For every elemental power
Is kindred to our hearts, and once

Acknowledged, wedded, once embraced,
Once taken to the unfettered sense,

Once claspt into the naked life,
The union is eternal.

WILL O' THE WISP
Follow me, follow me,

Over brake and under tree,
Thro' the bosky tanglery,

Brushwood and bramble!
Follow me, follow me,

Laugh and leap and scramble!
Follow, follow,

Hill and hollow,
Fosse and burrow,

Fen and furrow,
Down into the bulrush beds,

'Midst the reeds and osier heads,
In the rushy soaking damps,

Where the vapours pitch their camps,
Follow me, follow me,

For a midnight ramble!
O! what a mighty fog,

What a merry night O ho!
Follow, follow, nigher, nigher -

Over bank, and pond, and briar,
Down into the croaking ditches,

Rotten log,
Spotted frog,

Beetle bright
With crawling light,

What a joy O ho!
Deep into the purple bog -

What a joy O ho!
Where like hosts of puckered witches

All the shivering agues sit
Warming hands and chafing feet,

By the blue marsh-hovering oils:
O the fools for all their moans!

Not a forest mad with fire
Could still their teeth, or warm their bones,

Or loose them from their chilly coils.
What a clatter,

How they chatter!
Shrink and huddle,

All a muddle!
What a joy O ho!

Down we go, down we go,
What a joy O ho!

Soon shall I be down below,
Plunging with a grey fat friar,

Hither, thither, to and fro,
Breathing mists and whisking lamps,

Plashing in the shiny swamps;
While my cousin Lantern Jack,

With cook ears and cunning eyes,
Turns him round upon his back,

Daubs him oozy green and black,
Sits upon his rolling size,

Where he lies, where he lies,
Groaning full of sack -

Staring with his great round eyes!
What a joy O ho!

Sits upon him in the swamps
Breathing mists and whisking lamps!

What a joy O ho!
Such a lad is Lantern Jack,

When he rides the black nightmare
Through the fens, and puts a glare

In the friar's track.
Such a frolic lad, good lack!

To turn a friar on his back,
Trip him, clip him, whip him, nip him.

Lay him sprawling, smack!
Such a lad is Lantern Jack!

Such a tricksy lad, good lack!
What a joy O ho!

Follow me, follow me,
Where he sits, and you shall see!

SONG
Fair and false! No dawn will greet

Thy waking beauty as of old;
The little flower beneath thy feet

Is alien to thy smile so cold;
The merry bird flown up to meet

Young morning from his nest i' the wheat
Scatters his joy to wood and wold,

But scorns the arrogance of gold.
False and fair! I scarce know why,

But standing in the lonely air,
And underneath the blessed sky,

I plead for thee in my despair; -
For thee cut off, both heart and eye

From living truth; thy spring quite dry;
For thee, that heaven my thought may share,

Forget--how false! and think--how fair!
SONG

Two wedded lovers watched the rising moon,
That with her strange mysterious beauty glowing,

Over misty hills and waters flowing,
Crowned the long twilightloveliness of June:

And thus in me, and thus in me, they spake,
The solemn secret of fist love did wake.

Above the hills the blushing orb arose;
Her shape encircled by a radiant bower,

In which the nightingale with charmed power
Poured forth enchantment o'er the dark repose:

And thus in me, and thus in me, they said,
Earth's mists did with the sweet new spirit wed.

Far up the sky with ever purer beam,
Upon the throne of night the moon was seated,

And down the valley glens the shades retreated,
And silver light was on the open stream.

And thus in me, and thus in me, they sighed,
Aspiring Love has hallowed Passion's tide.

SONG
I cannot lose thee for a day,

But like a bird with restless wing
My heart will find thee far away,

And on thy bosom fall and sing,
My nest is here, my rest is here; -

And in the lull of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a sweet refrain,

'His rest is there, his nest is there.'
With thee the wind and sky are fair,

But parted, both are strange and dark;
And treacherous the quiet air

That holds me singing like a lark,
O shield my love, strong arm above!

Till in the hush of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a rich refrain,

'The arm above will shield thy love.'
DAPHNE

Musing on the fate of Daphne,
Many feelings urged my breast,

For the God so keen desiring,


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