I look for Ghosts; but none will force Their way to me; 'tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Betwixt the living and the dead; 60 For, surely, then I should have sight Of Him I wait for day and night, With love and longings infinite. My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass; The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass: I question things, and do not find One that will answer to my mind; And all the world appears unkind. 70 Beyond participation lie My troubles, and beyond relief: If any chance to heave a sigh They pity me, and not my grief. Then come to me, my Son, or send Some tidings that my woes may end; I have no other earthly friend. THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES. * * * * * That way look, my Infant, lo! What a pretty baby show! See the Kitten on the Wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Wither'd leaves, one, two, and three, From the lofty Elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and round they sink Softly, slowly: one might think, 10 From the motions that are made, Every little leaf convey'd Sylph or Faery hither tending, To this lower world descending, Each invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute. --But the Kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts; First at one and then its fellow Just as light and just as yellow; 20 There are many now--now one-- Now they stop; and there are none-- What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire! With a tiger-leap half way Now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then Has it in her power again: Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian Conjuror; 30 Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart. Were her antics play'd in the eye Of a thousand Standers-by, Clapping hands with shout and stare, What would little Tabby care For the plaudits of the Crowd? Over happy to be proud, Over wealthy in the treasure Of her own exceeding pleasure! 40