Colombine dreams, and starts to find A sad heart sighing in the wind, And in her heart a voice that sighs.

 

L’AMOUR PAR TERRE.

THE wind the other evening overthrew The little Love who smiled so mockingly Down that mysterious alley, so that we, Remembering, mused thereon a whole day through.

The wind has overthrown him! The poor stone Lies scattered to the breezes. It is sad To see the lonely pedestal, that had The artist’s name, scarce visible, alone,

Oh! it is sad to see the pedestal Left lonely! and in dream I seem to hear Prophetic voices whisper in my ear The lonely and despairing end of all.

Oh! it is sad! And thou, hast thou not found One heart-throb for the pity, though thine eye Lights at the gold and purple butterfly Brightening the littered leaves upon the ground.

 

À CLYMÈNE.

MYSTICAL strains unheard, A song without a word, Dearest, because thine eyes. Pale as the skies,

Because thy voice, remote As the far clouds that float Veiling for me the whole Heaven of the soul,

Because the stately scent Of thy swan’s whiteness, blent With the white lily’s bloom Of thy perfume,

Ah! because thy dear love, The music breathed above By angels halo-crowned, Odour and sound,

Hath, in my subtle heart, With some mysterious art Transposed thy harmony, So let it be!

 

FROM ROMANCES SANS PAROLES.

TEARS in my heart that weeps, Like the rain upon the town, What drowsy languor steeps In tears my heart that weeps?

O sweet sound of the rain On earth and on the roofs! For a heart’s weary pain O the song of the rain!

Vain tears, vain tears, my heart! What, none hath done thee wrong? Tears without reason start, From my disheartened heart.

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