I see the deep’s untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown: I sit upon the sands alone; The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion— How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around, Nor that content, surpassing wealth, The sage in meditation found, And walked with inward glory crowned— Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure; Others I see whom these surround— Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. Yet now despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear,— Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o’er my dying brain its last monotony. DIRGE FOR THE YEAR ORPHAN hours, the year is dead, Come and sigh, come and weep! Merry hours, smile instead, For the year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping. As an earthquake rocks a corse In its coffin in the clay, So White Winter, that rough nurse, Rocks the death-cold year to-day; Solemn hours! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud. As the wild air stirs and sways The tree-swung cradle of a child, So the breath of these rude days Rocks the year:—be calm and mild; Trembling hours, she will arise With new love within her eyes. January grey is here, Like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave. And April weeps—but O, ye hours, Follow with May’s fairest flowers. A WIDOW BIRD A WIDOW bird sat mourning for her love Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare, No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel’s sound. THE TWO SPIRITS _First Spirit_ O THOU, who plumed with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A shadow tracks the flight of fire— Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there— Night is coming! _Second Spirit_