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“ The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend ;
“ The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass
into her face.
“ And vital feelings of delight
Thus Nature spake the work was done.
of what has been,
William Wordsworth. TO DIANEME
SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes
ear, Will last to be a precious stone When all your world of beauty's gone.
THE TRUE BEAUTY
HE that loves a
Fuel to maintain his fires;
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Kindle never-dying fires :-
TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD 1
LORDS, knights, and ’squires, the numerous band
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters, Were summoned by her high command
To show their passions by their letters.
My pen, among the rest, I took,
Lest those bright eyes that cannot read Should dart their kindling fires, and look
The power they have to be obeyed.
Nor quality, nor reputation,
Forbid me yet my flame to tell,
And I may write till she can spell.
For, while she makes her silkworm beds
With all the tender things I swear; While all the house my passion reads,
In papers round her baby's hair, —
receive and own my flame, For, though the strictest prudes should know it, She'll pass for a most virtuous dame,
And I for an unhappy poet.
Then, too, alas! when she shall tear
rival sends, She'll give me leave to write, I fear, And we shall still continue friends.
1 Note 7.
For, as our different ages move,
'Tis so ordained (would Fate but mend it!) That I shall be past making love When she begins to comprehend it.
PROUD Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early ;
Singing so rarely.
“Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I “ When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.”
“ Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly ? ” “The gray-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly
“The glow-worm o'er grave and stone
Shall light thee steady ;
Sir Walter Scott.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
COME live with me and be my love,
And we will sit
And I will make thee beds of roses
made of the finest wool,
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
Thy silver dishes for thy meat