When we have once said lowly "Evening-Star!" Words give no more--for, in thy silver pride, Thou shinest as naught else can shine beside: The thick smoke, coiling round the sooty bar Forever, and the customed lamp-light mar The stillness of my thought--seeing things glide So samely:--then I ope my windows wide, And gaze in peace to where thou shin'st afar. The wind that comes across the faint-white snow So freshly, and the river dimly seen, Seem like new things that never had been so Before; and thou art bright as thou hast been Since thy white rays put sweetness in the eyes Of the first souls that loved in Paradise. XXVII. READING. As one who on some well-known landscape looks, Be it alone, or with some dear friend nigh, Each day beholdeth fresh variety, New harmonies of hills, and trees, and brooks-- So is it with the worthiest choice of books, And oftenest read: if thou no meaning spy, Deem there is meaning wanting in thine eyes; We are so lured from judgment by the crooks And winding ways of covert fantasy, Or turned unwittingly down beaten tracks Of our foregone conclusions, that we see, In our own want, the writer's misdeemed lacks: It is with true books as with Nature, each New day of living doth new insight teach. XXVIII. TO ----, AFTER A SNOW-STORM. Blue as thine eyes the river gently flows Between his banks, which, far as eye can see, Are whiter than aught else on earth may be, Save inmost thoughts that in thy soul repose; The trees all crystalled by the melted snows, Sparkle with gems and silver, such as we In childhood saw 'mong groves of Faërie, And the dear skies are sunny-blue as those; Still as thy heart, when next mine own it lies In love's full safety, is the bracing air; The earth is all enwrapt with draperies Snow-white as that pure love might choose to wear-- O for one moment's look into thine eyes, To share the joy such scene would kindle there! SONNETS ON NAMES. EDITH. A Lily with its frail cup filled with dew, Down-bending modestly, snow-white and pale, Shedding faint fragrance round its native vale, Minds me of thee, Sweet Edith, mild and true, And of thy eyes so innocent and blue, Thy heart is fearful as a startled hare, Yet hath in it a fortitude to bear For Love's sake, and a gentle faith which grew Of Love: need of a stay whereon to lean, Felt in thyself, hath taught thee to uphold And comfort others, and to give, unseen, The kindness thy still love cannot withhold: Maiden, I would my sister thou hadst been, That round thee I my guarding arms might fold. ROSE.