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HERE are more things in Heaven and Earth, than we Can dream of, or than nature understands; We learn not through our poor philosophy What hidden chords are touched by unseen hands.
The present hour repeats upon its strings
Forebodings come: we know not how, or whence,
And who can tell what secret links of thought
But, though a veil of shadow hangs between
A REMEMBRANCE OF AUTUMN.
OTHING stirs the sunny silence,— Save the drowsy humming of the bees Round the rich, ripe peaches on the wall, And the south wind sighing in the trees,
And the dead leaves rustling as they fall: While the swallows, one by one, are gathering,
All impatient to be on the wing, And to wander from us, seeking
Their beloved Spring!
Cloudless rise the azure heavens!
Only vaporous wreaths of snowy white Nestle in the grey hill's rugged side;
While the swallows in the blue air wheeling,
Circle now an eager fluttering band, Ready to depart and leave us
For a brighter land!
But a voice is sounding sadly,
Of a day that faded all too fast—
Where the swallows wing their way at last, And our hearts perchance, as sadly wandering,
Vainly seeking for a long-lost day,
While we watch the far-off swallows,
Flee with them away! THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE.
ES, it looked dark and dreary,
And gathering mists of night
n. Watching the sullen fire,
Hearing the dismal rain, Drop after drop, run down
On the darkening window-pane: Chill was the heart of Alice,
Chill as that winter day,— For the star of her life had risen
Only to fade away.