Swift, through some trap mine eyes have never found, Dim-panelled in the painted scene of Sleep, Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams, dost leap Upon my spirit's stage. Then Sight and Sound, Then Space and Time, then Language, Mete and Bound, And all familiar Forms that firmly keep Man's reason in the road, change faces, peep Betwixt the legs and mock the daily round. Yet thou canst more than mock: sometimes my tears At midnight break through bounden lids -- a sign Thou hast a heart: and oft thy little leaven Of dream-taught wisdom works me bettered years. In one night witch, saint, trickster, fool divine, I think thou'rt Jester at the Court of Heaven! ____ Baltimore, 1878. Street Cries. Oft seems the Time a market-town Where many merchant-spirits meet Who up and down and up and down Cry out along the street Their needs, as wares; one THUS, one SO: Till all the ways are full of sound: -- But still come rain, and sun, and snow, And still the world goes round. I. Remonstrance. "Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine. Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbear To feature me my Lord by rule and line. Thou canst not measure Mistress Nature's hair, Not one sweet inch: nay, if thy sight is sharp, Would'st count the strings upon an angel's harp? Forbear, forbear. "Oh let me love my Lord more fathom deep Than there is line to sound with: let me love My fellow not as men that mandates keep: Yea, all that's lovable, below, above, That let me love by heart, by heart, because (Free from the penal pressure of the laws) I find it fair. "The tears I weep by day and bitter night, Opinion! for thy sole salt vintage fall. -- As morn by morn I rise with fresh delight, Time through my casement cheerily doth call `Nature is new, 'tis birthday every day, Come feast with me, let no man say me nay, Whate'er befall.' "So fare I forth to feast: I sit beside Some brother bright: but, ere good-morrow's passed, Burly Opinion wedging in hath cried `Thou shalt not sit by us, to break thy fast, Save to our Rubric thou subscribe and swear -- `Religion hath blue eyes and yellow hair:' She's Saxon, all.' "Then, hard a-hungered for my brother's grace Till well-nigh fain to swear his folly's true, In sad dissent I turn my longing face To him that sits on the left: `Brother, -- with you?' -- `Nay, not with me, save thou subscribe and swear `Religion hath black eyes and raven hair:' Nought else is true.' "Debarred of banquets that my heart could make With every man on every day of life, I homeward turn, my fires of pain to slake In deep endearments of a worshipped wife. `I love thee well, dear Love,' quoth she, `and yet Would that thy creed with mine completely met, As one, not two.'