The bleat, far off, of closely-cabined sheep,--
Are like dim perfumes blowing down the stairs,
All sweetly prescient of the coming day,--
And less like sounds, than little tender airs
Gone softly shod and happily astray.

The later sleepers, where the garden lies,
Such heavy-lidded ladies as the rose,
Hear the soft tumult with a dim surprise,
There, where an early wind as roundsman goes,
To rouse each languid, over-sleepy head,
And shame them that they lie so long abed.

DAFFODILS OVER NIGHT

(_A Short Tale for Children_)

I think the ghost of Leerie
Came by with ghostly tread,
And little lighted tapers,
When we had gone to bed,--
Past gravel-walk and garden,
As he was wont to go,
And lit these yellow lanterns,
Burning where thy blow.

VALUES

It moves my heart but little to suppose
That planted men, like planted seed, shall rise,
That faulty dust re-blossoms as the rose,
In new perfections for more perfect skies;
Nor should I greatly care if one who knew
Should tell that out beyond the Grievous Gate,
The sleepy country that we travel to,
Has never any waking, soon or late.

But what if I should hear a prophet say:
Next year will bring no robins round the door,
And April will not have her ancient way,
The hedge will bear no blossoms any more,
The earth will not be green for living men,--
For Spring will not pass by this way again!...

A GHOST OUT OF STRATFORD

For all the crowd that packed the house to-night,
Marked you the vacant seat none came to claim,...
The fourth row from the front, and to the right?...
Vacant, I call it now.... But I could name
A thing that happened when the lights were off,
Of one who walked in buckles down the aisle,
Wearing a great hat that he scorned to doff,
And richly kerchiefed, wrist and neck in style.

Once in the play--I swear it--once I heard,
Along the tumult of our loud applause,
A sly and ghostly chuckle at a word
That Falstaff mouthed with those outrageous jaws ...
I think he liked the play ... and stayed, no doubt,
Long after us, and lingered going out.

WHO WALKS WITH BEAUTY

Who walks with Beauty has no need of fear:
The sun and moon and stars keep pace with him;
Invisible hands restore the ruined year,
And time itself gr