Tis seen in flowers, And in the morning's pearly dew; In earth's green hours, And in the heaven's eternal blue. Tis heard in Spring When light and sunbeams, warm and kind, On angel's wing Bring love and music to the mind. And where is voice, So young, so beautiful, and sweet As Nature's choice, Where Spring and lovers meet? Love lives beyond The tomb, the earth, the flowers, and dew. I love the fond, The faithful, young and true. _I Am_ I AM: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am, and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And een the dearest--that I loved the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smiled or wept; There to abide with my Creator, GOD, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky. APPENDICES _Fragment_ _A Specimen of Clare's rough drafts_ In a huge cloud of mountain hue The sun sets dark nor shudders through One single beam to shine again Tis night already in the lane The settled clouds in ridges lie And some swell mountains calm and high Clouds rack and drive before the wind In shapes and forms of every kind Like waves that rise without the roars And rocks that guard untrodden shores Now castles pass majestic bye And ships in peaceful havens lie These gone ten thousand shapes ensue For ever beautiful and new The scattered clouds lie calm and still And day throws gold on every hill Their thousand heads in glorys run As each were worlds and owned a sun The rime it clings to every thing It beards the early buds of spring The mossy pales the orchard spray Are feathered with its silver grey Rain drizzles in the face so small We scarce can say it rains at all The cows turned to the pelting rain No longer at their feed remain But in the sheltering hovel hides That from two propping dotterels strides The sky was hilled with red and blue With lighter shadows waking through Till beautiful and beaming day Shed streaks of gold for miles away The linnet stopt her song to clean Her spreading wings of yellow green And turn his head as liking well To smooth the dropples as they fell One scarce could keep one's path aright From gazing upward at the sight The boys for wet are forced to pass The cuckoo flowers among the grass To hasten on as well they may For hedge or tree or stack of hay Where they for shelter can abide Safe seated by its sloping side That by the blackthorn thicket cowers A shelter in the strongest showers The gardens golden gilliflowers Are paled with drops of amber showers