Amphion

1

dush BA

They read Botanic Treatises,i'new baA
And Works on Gardening thro' there,
And Methods of transplanting trees. I
To look as if they grew there.5 9dT
85700 mistmort-odt mort abrodgade baf.
The wither'd Misses! how they prose
O'er books of travell❜d seamen,
And show you slips of all that grows
From England to Van Diemen.
They read in arbours clipt and cut,
And alleys, faded places, endo
By squares of tropic summer slut brá
And warm'd in crystal cases.
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But these, tho' fed with careful dirt,
Are neither green

green nor sappy ;
Half-conscious of the garden-squirt, ha
The poor things look unhappy.
Better to me the meanest weed

That blows
vs upon its m mountain, i niey wit

The vilest herb that runs to seed

Besides its native fountain,

980s dad in otroge yrov edT

abelwym of 19w8us 907002
And I must work thro' months of toils 10
And years of cultivation, mune diV7
Upon my proper patch of soilson asadosį. A
To grow my own plantation.asq

I'll take the showers as they fall,
I will not vex my bosom,

Enough if at the end of all de auriw sud
A little garden blossom.

„bmory »^woddyisa you ai ai

gaibası asal mobom adT

DEEP on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to heaven like vapour goes
May my soul follow

soon

The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year
That in my bosom lies.

QAHAJAD NIŻ

St. Agnes'
Eve

As these white robes are soil'd and dark,
To yonder shining ground goryM
As this pale taper's earthly spark,way M
To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee; biod od
So in mine earthly house I am, ilga add
To that I hope to be.as satod ofT
Breakup
the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Thro' all yon starlight keen, baA
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,

In raiment white and clean.ils!

He lifts me to the golden doors;
to the and go;
The flashes come

All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates
Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
To make me pure of sin. v vaM
The sabbaths of Eternity, wobada ofT
One sabbath deep and wide

A light upon the shining sea-
The Bridegroom with his bride!

walo bue vuq siniys yes and PadsM

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure, 1
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 2
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel: 360 0T
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,Te

And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers, m

That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend

On whom their favours fall! For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall : But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

III

When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:

Then by some secret shrine I ride; MM

I hear a voice but none are there; aft
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,

The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chaunts resound between.

IV

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;olu soonge ou
I leap on board: no helmsman steers :
I float till all is dark.

Sir Galahad

Sir Galahad

A gentle sound, an awful light!
Three angels bear the holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
༥
On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
My spirit beats her mortal bars, it st
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars,

orim ni bred a noblegt 10%
quined gm no albas puostamod wo

When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,

7

The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
But o'er the dark a glory spreads, il A
And gilds the driving hail, sb nawied
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

drefo-wls qweas ody epsol is A

A maiden knight-to me is given a SAT
Such hope, I know not fear; baA

I

yearn
to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,iamo?
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,sod no q
Whose odours haunt my dreams;