Of that bright island; where he feared to touch,

His spirit readventures; and for years,

Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home, Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes Yearning for that far home that might have been.

TO WILL. H. LOW

OUTH now flees on feathered foot.

YOUTH

Faint and fainter sounds the flute,

Rarer songs of gods; and still
Somewhere on the sunny hill,
Or along the winding stream,
Through the willows, flits a dream;
Flits, but shows a smiling face,
Flees, but with so quaint a grace,
None can choose to stay at home,
All must follow, all must roam.

This is unborn beauty: she

Now in air floats high and free,
Takes the sun and breaks the blue; -
Late with stooping pinion flew
Raking hedgerow trees, and wet

Her wing in silver streams, and set
Shining foot on temple roof:

Now again she flies aloof,

Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't
By the evening's amethyst.

In wet wood and miry lane,
Still we pant and pound in vain;
Still with leaden foot we chase
Waning pinion, fainting face;
Still with grey hair we stumble on,
Till, behold, the vision gone!
Where hath fleeting beauty led?
To the doorway of the dead.
Life is over, life was gay:
We have come the primrose way.

TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW

VEN in the bluest noonday of July,

of wind

But all the quarter sounded like a wood; And in the chequered silence and above The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois, Suburban ashes shivered into song.

A patter and a chatter and a chirp

And a long dying hiss - it was as though Starched old brocaded dames through all the house

Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain. Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks Of the near autumn, how the smitten ash Trembles and augurs floods! O not too long In these inconstant latitudes delay,

O not too late from the unbeloved north Trim your escape! For soon shall this low roof

Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your

eyes

Search the foul garden, search the darkened

rooms,

Nor find one jewel but the blazing log.

12 Rue Vernier, Paris.