The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing;

Ice with the warm blood mixing;
The eyeballs fixing.

Nine times goes the passing bell :
Ye merry souls farewell.

The old earth

Had a birth,

As all men know,

Long ago.

And the old earth must die.
So let the warm winds range,
And the blue wave beat the shore;
For even and morn

Ye will never see

Through eternity.

All things were born.

Ye will come never more,

For all things must die.

XVII

THE SEA-FAIRIES

SLOW sailed the weary mariners, and saw,
Between the green brink and the running foam,
White limbs unrobèd in a chrystal air,

Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest
To little harps of gold and while they mused,
Whispering to each other half in fear,

Shrill music reached them on the middle sea.

SONG

Whither away, whither away, whither away? Fly no

more:

Whither away wi' the singing sail? whither away wi' the oar?

Whither away from the high green field and the happy blossoming shore ?

Weary mariners, hither away,
One and all, one and all,

Weary mariners come and play;

We will sing to you all the day;

Furl the sail and the foam will fall

From the prow! One and all

Know danger and trouble and toil no more.
Whither away wi' the sail and the oar ?
Drop the oar,
Leap ashore,

Fly no more !

Whither away wi' the sail? whither away wi' the oar?

Day and night to the billow the fountain calls:
Down shower the gambolling waterfalls
From wandering over the lea;

They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,
And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells
High over the full-toned sea.

Merrily carol the revelling gales

Over the islands free :

From the green sea-banks the rose down-trails
To the happy brimmèd sea.

Come hither, come hither, and be our lords,
For merry brides are we :

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words :
Oh listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten

With pleasure and love and revelry ;
Oh listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten,
When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords
Runs up the ridgèd sea.

Ye will not find so happy a shore,
Weary mariners all the world o'er;
Oh! fly no more!

Harken ye, harken ye, sorrow shall darken ye,
Danger and trouble and toil no more;
Whither away?

Drop the oar;

Hither away,

Leap ashore;

Oh fly no more-no more.

Whither away, whither away, whither away with the sail

and the oar?

XVIII

THE DESERTED HOUSE

1

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide:
Careless tenants they!

2

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

3

Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy

Of the dark deserted house.

4

Come away: no more of mirth

Is here or merry-making sound. The house was builded of the earth, And shall fall again to ground.

5

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious

A great and distant city-have bought
A mansion incorruptible.

Would they could have stayed with us!

XIX

THE DYING SWAN

1

THE plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere

An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,
And loudly did lament.

It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on,

And took the reed-tops as it went.

2

Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.

One willow over the river wept,

And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;

Above in the wind was the swallow,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
And far thro' the marish green and still
The tangled water-courses slept,

Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.

3

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy

Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice

With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd

Thro' the open gates of the city afar,

To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willow-branches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marish-flowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.

XX

LOVE

I

THOU, from the first, unborn, undying love,

Albeit we gaze not on thy glories near,

Before the face of God did'st breathe and move,

Though night and pain and ruin and death reign here. Thou foldest, like a golden atmosphere,

The very throne of the eternal God:

Passing through thee the edicts of his fear

Are mellowed into music, borne abroad

By the loud winds, though they uprend the sea,

Even from its central deeps: thine empery

Is over all thou wilt not brook eclipse;
Thou goest and returnest to His lips

Like lightning: thou dost ever brood above
The silence of all hearts, unutterable Love.

II

To know thee is all wisdom, and old age
Is but to know thee: dimly we behold thee
Athwart the veils of evil which infold thee.
We beat upon our aching hearts in rage;
We cry for thee; we deem the world thy tomb.
As dwellers in lone planets look upon

The mighty disk of their majestic sun,
Hollowed in awful chasms of wheeling gloom,
Making their day dim, so we gaze on thee.
Come, thou of many crowns, white-robèd love,
Oh! rend the veil in twain: all men adore thee;
Heaven crieth after thee; earth waiteth for thee:
Breathe on thy wingèd throne, and it shall move
In music and in light o'er land and sea.

III

And now-methinks I gaze upon thee now,
As on a serpent in his agonies

Awe-stricken Indians; what time laid low
And crushing the thick fragrant reeds he lies,
When the new year warm-breathèd on the earth,
Waiting to light him with her purple skies,
Calls to him by the fountain to uprise.
Already with the pangs of a new birth
Strain the hot spheres of his convulsèd eyes,
And in his writhings awful hues begin
To wander down his sable-sheeny sides,
Like light on troubled waters: from within
Anon he rusheth forth with merry din,

And in him light and joy and strength abides;

And from his brows a crown of living light

Looks through the thick-stemmed woods by day and night.

XXI

LOVE AND DEATH

WHAT time the mighty moon was gathering light

Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise,
And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes;
When, turning round a cassia, full in view
Death, walking all alone beneath a yew,
And talking to himself, first met his sight: