Pleasant thoughts come wandering, When thou art far, from thee to me; On their silver wings they bring A very peaceful ecstasy, A feeling of eternal spring; So that Winter half forgets Everything but that thou art, And, in his bewildered heart, Dreameth of the violets, Or those bluer flowers that ope, Flowers of steadfast love and hope, Watered by the living wells, Of memories dear, and dearer prophecies, When young spring forever dwells In the sunshine of thine eyes. I have most holy dreams of thee, All night I have such dreams; And, when I awake, reality No whit the darker seems; Through the twin gates of Hope and Memory They pour in crystal streams From out an angel's calmèd eyes, Who, from twilight till sunrise, Far away in the upper deep, Poised upon his shining wings, Over us his watch doth keep, And, as he watcheth, ever sings. Through the still night I hear him sing, Down-looking on our sleep; I hear his clear, clear harp-strings ring, And, as the golden notes take wing, Gently downward hovering, For very joy I weep; He singeth songs of holy Love, That quiver through the depths afar, Where the blessèd spirits are, And lingeringly from above Shower till the morning star His silver shield hath buckled on And sentinels the dawn alone, Quivering his gleamy spear Through the dusky atmosphere. Almost, my love, I fear the morn, When that blessèd voice shall cease, Lest it should leave me quite forlorn, Stript of my snowy robe of peace; And yet the bright reality Is fairer than all dreams can be, For, through my spirit, all day long, Ring echoes of that angel-song In melodious thoughts of thee; And well I know it cannot die Till eternal morn shall break, For, through life's slumber, thou and I Will keep it for each other's sake, And it shall not be silent when we wake. FOURTH OF JULY ODE. I. Our fathers fought for Liberty, They struggled long and well, History of their deeds can tell-- But did they leave us free? II. Are we free from vanity, Free from pride, and free from self, Free from love of power and pelf, From everything that's beggarly? III. Are we free from stubborn will, From low hate and malice small, From opinion's tyrant thrall? Are none of us our own slaves still? IV. Are we free to speak our thought, To be happy, and be poor, Free to enter Heaven's door, To live and labor as we ought? V. Are we then made free at last From the fear of what men say, Free to reverence To-day, Free from the slavery of the Past? VI.