And canst thou mock mine agony, thus calm
In cloudless radiance, Queen of silver night?
Can you, ye flow'rets, spread your perfumed balm
Mid pearly gems of dew that shine so bright?
And you wild winds, thus can you sleep so still
Whilst throbs the tempest of my breast so high?
Can the fierce night-fiends rest on yonder hill,
And, in the eternal mansions of the sky,
Can the directors of the storm in powerless silence lie?

Hark! I hear music on the zephyr's wing,
Louder it floats along the unruffled sky;

Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled
Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world.
See! on yon heath what countless victims lie,
Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky;
Tell then the cause, 'tis sure the avenger's rage
Has swept these myriads from life's crowded stage:
Hark to that groan, an anguished hero dies,
He shudders in death's latest agonies;
Yet does a fleeting hectic flush his cheek,
Yet does his parting breath essay to speak—
‘Oh God! my wife, my children— Monarch thou
For whose support this fainting frame lies low;

I am the thunder of my tribe.
I am the seamonster of my tribe.
I am the earthquake of my tribe.
When I start to fly the thunder resounds through the world.
When I am maddened, the voice of the seabear resounds through the world.

Like pain of fire runs down my body my love to you, my dear!
Like pain runs down my body my love to you, my dear!
Just as sickness is my love to you, my dear.
Just as a boil pains me my love to you, my dear.
Just as fire burns me my love to you, my dear.
I am thinking of what you said to me.
I am thinking of the love you bear me.
I am afraid of your love, my dear.
O pain! o pain!
Oh, where is my true love going, my dear?
Oh, they say she will be taken away far from here. She will leave me, my true love, my dear.

When I am grown up I shall go and stoop digging clams.
When I am grown up I shall go and splash in the water digging clams.
When I am grown up I shall stoop down digging clams.
When I am grown up I shall go picking berries.

F RANK-HEARTED hostess of the field and wood,
Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree,
June is the pearl of our New England year.
Still a surprisal, though expected long,
Her coming startles. Long she lies in wait,
Makes many a feint, peeps forth, draws coyly back,
Then, from some southern ambush in the sky,
With one great gush of blossom storms the world.
A week ago the sparrow was divine;
The bluebird, shifting his light load of song
From post to post along the cheerless fence,
Was as a rhymer ere the poet come;

Now Dian, with her burning face,
Declines apace,
By which our waters know
To ebb, that late did flow.
Back seas, back nymphs; but with a forward grace
Keep, still, your reverence to the place;
And shout with joy of favour you have won
In sight of Albion, Neptune's son.
(from The Masque of Blackness)

Daughters of the subtle flood,
Do not let earth longer entertain you.
1 ECHO Let earth longer entertain you.
2 ECHO Longer entertain you.
'Tis to them enough of good
That you give this little hope to gain you.
1 ECHO Give this little hope to gain you.
2 ECHO Little hope to gain you.
If thy love,
You shall quickly see;
For when to flight you move,
They'll follow you, the more you flee.
1 ECHO Follow you, the more yon flee.
2 ECHO The more you flee.
If not, impute it each to other's matter;
They are but earth--

Sound, sound aloud
The welcome of the orient flood
Into the west;
Fair Niger, son to great Oceanus,
Now honoured thus,
With all his beauteous race,
Who, though but black in face,
Yet are they bright,
And full of life and light,
To prove that beauty best
Which not the colour but the feature
Assures unto the creature.
(from The Masque of Blackness)

'Twas not a mist, nor was it quite a cloud,
But it pass'd smoothly on towards the Sea
Smoothly & lightly betwixt Earth & Heaven.
So thin a cloud--
It scarce bedimm'd the Star that shone behind it.
And Hesper now
Paus'd on the welkin's blue and cloudless brink,
A golden circlet! while the Star of Jove,
That other lovely star, high o'er my head
Shone whitely in the centre of his Haze
. . . one black-blue Cloud
Stretch'd, like the heavens o'er all the cope of Heaven.