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Within my limits, lone and still,
At morn I take my customed round,
Nor knowest thou what argument
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
At eve, within yon studious nook,
While such pure joys my bliss create,
ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
O UNSEEN Spirit! now a calm divine
Comes forth from thee, rejoicing earth and air ! | Trees, hills, and houses, all distinctly shine,
And thy great ocean slumbers everywhere.
INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE.
The mountain ridge against the purple sky Stands clear and strong, with darkened rocks
and dells, And cloudless brightness opens wide and high
A home aerial, where thy presence dwells.
BENEATH this stony roof reclined,
| The chime of bells remote, the murmuring sea,
The song of birds in whispering copse and wood, The distant voice of children's thoughtless glee, ! And maiden's song, are all one voice of good,
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born !
Say, from what golden quivers of the sky Bright effluence of bright essence increate !
Do all thy winged arrows fly? Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream,
Swiftness and Power by birth are thine : Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, From thy great sire they came, thy sire, the Before the heavens, thou wert, and at the voice
Thou in the Moon's bright chariot, proud and Won from the void and forniless intinite.
gay, Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey ; Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained
And all the year dost with thee bring In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal Through utter and through middle darkness
spring. borne, With other notes than to the Orphean lyre,
Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands I sung of Chaos and eternal Night,
above Tirught by the heavenly Muse to venture down
The Sun's gilt tent forever move, The dark descent, and up to re-ascend,
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, Though hard and rare : thee I revisit safe,
The shining pageants of the world attend thy Aud feel thy sovereign vital lamp ; but thou
show. Revisitest not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
| Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs,
The humble glow-worms to adorn,
And with those living spangles gild
10 greatness without pride !) the bushes of the Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief
field. Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow,
1 Night and her ugly subjects thou dost fright, Nightly I visit : nor sometimes forget
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night;
Ashamed, and fearful to appear,
They screen their horrid shapes with the black Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides,
hemisphere. And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old : Then feed on thoughts that voluntary move
At thy appearance, Grief itself is said Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
To shake his wings, and rouse his head : Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid
And cloudy Care has often took Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look. Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, i At thy appearance, fear itself grows bold; Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Thy sunshine melts away his cold. Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ;
Encouraged at the sight of thee But cloud, instead, and ever-during dark, To the cheek color comes, and firmness to the Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men I knee.
FROM "THE MINSTREL."
The wild brook babbling down the mountainA little while a little space made bright.
side; The night was long and like an iron bar
The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell ; Lay heavy on the land : till o'er the sea
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried Slowly, within the East, there grew a light
In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide Which half was starlight, and half seemed to be The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The herald of a greater. The pale white
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; Turned slowly to pale rose, and up the height The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, Of heaven slowly climbed. The gray sea grew And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. Rose-colored like the sky. A white gull flew Straight toward the utmost boundary of the East, The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; Where slowly the rose gathered and increased. Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid It was as on the opening of a door
sings ; By one that in his hand a lamp doth hold, The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and, Whose fame is hidden by the garment's fold,
hark! The still air moves, the wide room is less dim. Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon
rings; More bright the East became, the ocean turned Through rustling corn the hare astonished Dark and more dark against the brightening
springs ; sky,
Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour ; Sharper against the sky the long sea line.
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; The hollows of the breakers on the shore
Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower, Were green like leaves whereon no sun doth shine, And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower. Though white the outer branches of the tree.
THE SABBATH MORNING.
As poised on vibrant wings,
I linger in delight,
ROSE TERRY COOKE.
With silent awe I hail the sacred morn,
A SUMMER NOON.
RÈVE DU MIDI.
WHEN o'er the mountain steeps
And the idle winds go by,
Who has not dreamed a world of bliss
Then, when the silent stream
When the moth forgets to play,
Then, from the noise of war
Banished to silence drear, -
Some melancholy gale
Glories that faded fast,
BENEATH a shivering canopy reclined,