The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxslips; tender bluebells, at whose birth

The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower

that wets

Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth Its mother's face with heaven's collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

III.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May,

And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose

wine

Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;

And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering

astray;

And flowers azure, black, and streaked with

gold,

Fairer than

any wakened eyes behold.

IV.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white,

And starry river-buds among the sedge,

And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light;

And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

V.

Methought that of these visionary flowers

I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers

Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it! -oh! to whom!

A Shadow tracks thy 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

The deathless stars are bright above;
If I would cross the shade of night,

Within my heart is the lamp of love,
And that is day!

And the moon will smile with gentle light On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight, And make night day.

FIRST SPIRIT

But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;
See, the bounds of the air are shaken —
Night is coming!

The red swift clouds of the hurricane

Yon declining sun have overtaken,

The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain

Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT

I see the light, and I hear the sound;
I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark,
With the calm within and the light around
Which makes night day:

And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound, My moon-like flight thou then may'st mark On high, far away.

Some say there is a precipice

Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice 'Mid Alpine mountains;

And that the languid storm pursuing

That winged shape, for ever flies

Round those hoar branches, aye renewing Its aëry fountains.

Some say when nights are dry and clear,
And the death-dews sleep on the morass,
Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller,
Which make night day :

And a silver shape like his early love doth

pass

Upborne by her wild and glittering hair,

And when he awakes on the fragrant grass, He finds night day.