Ever again to breathe pure happiness,
So happy that we gave away our toy?
We smiled at nothings, needing no caress?
Have we not laughed too often since with Joy?
Have we not stolen too strange and sorrowful wrongs
For her hands' pardoning? The sun may cleanse,
And time, and starlight. Life will sing great songs,
And gods will show us pleasures more than men's.

Yet heaven looks smaller than the old doll's-home,
No nestling place is left in bluebell bloom,
And the wide arms of trees have lost their scope.

Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
Among the rocks and streams
To sport that night.

Among the bonny winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
Together did convene,

522

Had I presumed to hope—
The loss had been to Me
A Value—for the Greatness' Sake—
As Giants—gone away—

Had I presumed to gain
A Favor so remote—
The failure but confirm the Grace
In further Infinite—

'Tis failure—not of Hope—
But Confident Despair—
Advancing on Celestial Lists—
With faint—Terrestial power—

'Tis Honor—though I die—
For That no Man obtain
Till He be justified by Death—
This—is the Second Gain—

The man of life upright, whose guiltless heart is free
From all dishonest deeds and thoughts of vanity:
The man whose silent days in harmless joys are spent,
Whom hopes cannot delude, nor fortune discontent;
That man needs neither towers nor armor for defense,
Nor secret vaults to fly from thunder's violence:
He only can behold with unaffrighted eyes
The horrors of the deep and terrors of the skies;
Thus scorning all the care that fate or fortune brings,
He makes the heaven his book, his wisdom heavenly things;

From billabong or pond
he serenades the moon
upon his small bassoon;
the moon does not respond
but in the hope she might
he keeps it up all night.

The meatworker in magpie suit
goes home and practices his flute
ten times on end he will begin
the Bridal March from Lohengrin,
or make the Kookaburra smile
by his attempts at Fairest Isle.

He needs both industry and skill
the satisfy his hunger
did he run up that monstrous bill
of his at the fishmonger?

In arrogance and outward show

Somehow the skies don't seem so blue
As they used to be;
Blossoms have a fainter hue,
Grass less green I see.
There's no twinkle in a star,
Dawns don't seem so gold . . .
Yet, of course, I know they are:
Guess I'm growing old.
II
Somehow sunshine seems less bright,
Birds less gladly sing;
Moons don't thrill me with delight,
There's no kick in Spring.
Hills are steeper now and I'm
Sensitive to cold;
Lines are not so keen to rhyme . . .
Gosh! I'm growing old.

She gave me hope
she gave me love,
with bounty unalloyed.
But what she had of faith,
alas,
she gave to Freud.

LADY of Sorrow! What though laughing blue,
Thy sister, mock men’s anguish, and the sun
Glare like a wrathful judge on many a one
That longs for night his bitter shame to rue,
Yet dost thou grant thy mercy of mist and dew
And cloud and calm ere angry day be done,
Weaving over the vault the weary shun
Thy veil of peace, with pity trembling through.

When all light loves and all brave hues are flown,
When beaten hope falls from the reeling fight,
And life is lone upon her desolate way,

I.

See! with what constant motion
Even and glorious, as the sunne,
Gratiana steeres that noble frame,
Soft as her breast, sweet as her voyce,
That gave each winding law and poyze,
And swifter then the wings of Fame.

II.

She beat the happy pavement
By such a starre-made firmament,
Which now no more the roofe envies;
But swells up high with Atlas ev'n,
Bearing the brighter, nobler Heav'n,
And in her, all the Dieties.

III.

Each step trod out a lovers thought

SHE beat the happy pavement--
By such a star made firmament,
   Which now no more the roof envies!
   But swells up high, with Atlas even,
   Bearing the brighter nobler heaven,
   And, in her, all the deities.

Each step trod out a Lover's thought,
And the ambitious hopes he brought
   Chain'd to her brave feet with such arts,
   Such sweet command and gentle awe,
   As, when she ceased, we sighing saw