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And in the Silent Land his shade confest

Reached the calm dust, and there, That she, of all the seven, loved him

composed and queenly,

Gazed, but the missal trembled in

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The fourth, a ripe,

maiden, came,


LAURA, MY DARLING. LAURA, my darling, the roses have blushed

At the kiss of the dew, and our chamber is hushed;

Our murmuring babe to your bosom has clung,

And hears in his slumber the song that you sung;

I watch you asleep with your arms round him thrown, Your links of dark tresses wound in with his own,

Half for such homage to the dead And the wife is as dear as the gentle


By smiles on one who fanned a later flame

In her slight soul, her fickle steps attended.

The fifth and sixth were sisters; at the same

young bride

Of the hour when you first, darling, came to my side.

Laura, my darling, our sail down the

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Not braver he that leaps the wall
By level musket-flashes litten,
Than I, who stepped before them all
Who longed to see me get the

But no, she blushed and took my arm!

We let the old folks have the high


And started toward the Maple Farm Along a kind of lovers' by-way.

I can't remember what we said, 'Twas nothing worth a song or story;

Yet that rude path by which we sped Seemed all transformed and in a glory.

The snow was crisp beneath our feet, The moon was full, the fields were gleaming:

By hood and tippet sheltered sweet, Her face with youth and health were beaming.

The little hand outside her muff, O sculptor, if you could but mould it!

So lightly touched my jacket-cuff,

To keep it warm I had to hold it.

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A cloud passed kindly overhead, The moon was slyly peeping through it,

Yet hid its face, as if it said,

"Come, now or never! do it! do it!"

My lips till then had only known The kiss of mother and of sister, But somehow, full upon her own Sweet, rosy, darling mouth, — I kissed her!

Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still,
O listless woman, weary lover!
To feel once more that fresh, wild

I'd give but who can live youth over?


I HAVE a little kinsman

Whose earthly summers are but three,

And yet a voyager is he

Greater than Drake or Frobisher,
Than all their peers together!
He is a brave discoverer,
And, far beyond the tether

Of them who seek the frozen Pole, Has sailed where the noiseless surges roll,

Ay, he has travelled whither
A wingè pilot steered his bark
Through the portals of the dark,
Past hoary Mimir's well and tree,

Across the unknown sea.

Suddenly, in his fair young hour, Came one who bore a flower, And laid it in his dimpled hand

With this command: "Henceforth thou art a rover! Thou must make a voyage far, Sail beneath the evening star, And a wondrous land discover." - With his sweet smile innocent Our little kinsman went.

Since that time no word
From the absent has been heard.
Who can tell

How he fares, or answer well

What the little one has found
Since he left us, outward bound;
Would that he might return!
Then should we learn

From the pricking of his chart How the skyey roadways part. Hush! does not the baby this way bring.

To lay beside this severed curl,
Some starry offering
Of chrysolite or pearl ?

Ah, no! not so!
We may follow on his track,
But he comes not back,
And yet I dare aver
He is a brave discoverer
Of climes his elders do not know,
He has more learning than appears
On the scroll of twice three thou-
sand years,

More than in the groves is taught, Or from furthest Indies brought; He knows, perchance, how spirits fare,

What shapes the angels wear, What is their guise and speech In those lands beyond our reachAnd his eyes behold Things that shall never, never be to

mortal hearers told.

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