ing of the Morn
Has shed across my night excelling rays
Of love at once immortal and newborn,--
By favor of her smile, her glance, her grace,

I mean by you upheld, O gentle hand,
Wherein mine trembles,--led, sweet eyes, by you,
To walk straight, lie the path o'er mossy land
Or barren waste that rocks and pebbles strew.

Yes, calm I mean to walk through life, and straight,
Patient of all, unanxious of the goal,
Void of all envy, violence, or hate
It shall be duty done with cheerful soul.

And as I may, to lighten the long way,
Go singing airs ingenuous and brave,
She'll listen to me graciously, I say,--
And, verily, no other heaven I crave.

[Illustration: "Avant Que Tu T'en Ailles."]

BEFORE YOUR LIGHT QUITE FAIL

Before your light quite fail,
Already paling star,
(The quail
Sings in the thyme afar!)

Turn on the poet's eyes
That love makes overrun--
(See rise
The lark to meet the sun!)

Your glance, that presently
Must drown in the blue morn;
(What glee
Amid the rustling corn!)

Then flash my message true
Down yonder,--far away!--
(The dew
Lies sparkling on the hay.)

Across what visions seek
The Dear One slumbering still.
(Quick, quick!
The sun has reached the hill!)

O'ER THE WOOD'S BROW

O'er the wood's brow,
Pale, the moon stares;
In every bough
Wandering airs
Faintly suspire....

O heart's-desire!

Two willow-trees
Waver and weep,
One in the breeze,
One in the deep
Glass of the stream....

Dream we our dream!

An infinite
Resignedness
Rains where the white
Mists opalesce
In the moon-shower....

Stay, perfect hour!

THE SCENE BEHIND THE CARRIAGE WINDOW-PANES

The scene behind the carriage window-panes
Goes flitting past in furious flight; whole plains
With streams and harvest-fields and trees and blue
Are swallowed by the whirlpool, whereinto
The telegraph's slim pillars topple o'er,
Whose wires look strangely like a music-score.

A smell of smoke and steam, a horrid din
As of a thousand clanking chains that pin
A thousand giants that are whipped and