The poets were good teachers, for they taught Earth had this joy; but that 'twould ever be That fortune should be perfected in me, My heart of hope dared not engage the thought. So I stood low, and now but to be caught By any self-styled lords of the age with thee Vexes my modesty, lest they should see I hold them owls and peacocks, things of nought. And when we sit alone, and as I please I taste thy love's full smile, and can enstate The pleasure of my kingly heart at ease, My thought swims like a ship, that with the weight Of her rich burden sleeps on the infinite seas Becalm'd, and cannot stir her golden freight. 6 While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry And blackening east that so embitters March, Well-housed must watch grey fields and meadows parch, And driven dust and withering snowflake fly: Already in glimpses of the tarnish'd sky The sun is warm and beckons to the larch, And where the covert hazels interarch Their tassell'd twigs, fair beds of primrose lie. Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid A million buds but stay their blossoming; And trustful birds have built their nests amid The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing Till one soft shower from the south shall bid, And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of spring. 7 In thee my spring of life hath bid the while A rose unfold beyond the summer's best, The mystery of joy made manifest In love's self-answering and awakening smile, Whereby the lips in wonder reconcile Passion with peace, and show desire at rest,-- A grace of silence by the Greek unguesst, That bloom'd to immortalize the Tuscan style: When first the angel-song that faith hath ken'd Fancy pourtray'd, above recorded oath Of Israel's God, or light of poem pen'd; The very countenance of plighted troth 'Twixt heaven and earth, where in one moment blend The hope of one and happiness of both. 8 For beauty being the best of all we know Sums up the unsearchable and secret aims Of nature, and on joys whose earthly names Were never told can form and sense bestow; And man hath sped his instinct to outgo The step of science; and against her shames Imagination stakes out heavenly claims, Building a tower above the head of woe. Nor is there fairer work for beauty found Than that she win in nature her release From all the woes that in the world abound: Nay with his sorrow may his love increase, If from man's greater need beauty redound, And claim his tears for homage of his peace. 9