III.

ODYLE.

We know that they are often near
Of whom we think, of whom we talk,
Though we have missed them many a year,
And lost them from our daily walk.

Some strange clairvoyance dwells in all,
And webs the souls of human kind.
I would that I could learn its thrall,
And know the power of mind on mind.

I then might quickly use the sense,
To find where one I worship dwells,
If in the city, or if thence
Among the breeze-rung lily bells.

IV.

WHAT ONE FINDS IN THE COUNTRY.

I went out in the country
To spend an idle day--
To see the flowers in blossom,
And scent the fragrant hay.

The dawn's spears smote the mountains
Upon their shields of blue,
And space, in her black valleys,
Joined in the conflict too.

The clouds were jellied amber;
The crickets in the grass
Blew pipe and hammered tabor,
And laughed to see me pass.

The cows down in the pasture,
The mowers in the field,
The birds that sang in heaven,
Their happiness revealed.

My heart was light and joyful,
I could not answer why;
And I thought that it was better
Always to smile than sigh.

How could I hope to meet her
Whom most I wished to meet?
If always I had lost her,
Then life were incomplete.

The road ran o'er a brooklet;
Upon the bridge she stood,
With wild flowers in her ringlets,
And in her hand her hood.

The morn laid on her features
An envious golden kiss;
She might have fancied truly,
I longed to share its bliss.

I said, "O, lovely maiden,
I have sought you many a day.
That I love you, love you, love you,
Is all that I can say."

Her mournful eyes grew brighter,
And archly glanced, though meek.
A bacchanalian dimple
Dipt a wine-cup in her cheek.

"If you love me, love me, love me,
If you love me as you say,
You must prove it, prove it, prove it!"
And she lightly turned away.

V.

AN AUNT AND AN UNCLE.

I have but an aunt and an uncle
For kinsfolk on the earth,
And one has passed me unnoticed
And hated me from my birth;
But the first has reared me and taught me,
Whatever I have of worth.

This is my uncle by marriage,
For his wife my aunt had died,
And left him all her possessions,
With much that was mine beside--
'Tis said that he hated her brother,
As much as he loved the bride.

That brother, my father, forgave him,
As his last hour ran its sand,