MUTABILITY. THE flower that smiles to-day All that we wish to stay What is this world's delight? Virtue how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love how it sells poor bliss But we, though soon they fall, Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day, Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou-and from thy sleep Then wake to weep. SONNET. POLITICAL GREATNESS. NOR happiness, nor majesty, nor fame, arts, Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame : Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts; History is but the shadow of their shame ; Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts; As to oblivion their blind millions fleet, Staining that heaven with obscene imagery Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit By force or custom? Man who man would be Must rule the empire of himself; in it Must be supreme, establishing his throne On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy Of hopes and fears, being himself alone. LINES. IF I walk in Autumn's even While the dead leaves pass, If I look on Spring's soft heaven,— ? TO-MORROW. WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow? THE AZIOLA. "Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh," Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere the stars were lit or candles brought. And I, who thought This Aziola was some tedious woman, How elate Asked "Who is Aziola?" And laughed and said, "Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl." Sad Aziola! many an eventide Thy music I have heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain side, And fields and marshes wide, Such as nor voice nor lute nor wind nor bird The soul ever stirred Unlike and far sweeter than they all. A LAMENT. O WORLD! O life! O time! Out of the day and night Fresh Spring, and Summer, Autumn, and Move my faint heart with grief,—but with delight No more, oh never more! REMEMBRANCE. SWIFTER far than summer's flight, Swifter far than youth's delight, Art thou come and gone : As the earth when leaves are dead, The swallow summer comes again, Sunny leaves from any bough. Lilies for a bridal bed, On the living grave I bear ΤΟ ONE word is too often profaned One feeling too falsely disdained |