English

Came , on a Sabbath morn, my sweet,
— In white, to find her lover;
The grass grew proud beneath her feet,
— The green elm-leaves above her: —
— — Meet we no angels, Pansie?

She said, " We meet no angels now " ;
— And soft lights streamed upon her;
And with white hand she touched a bough;
— She did it that great honor: —
— — What! meet no angels, Pansie?

O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes,
— Down-dropped brown eyes, so tender!
Then what said I? — gallant replies

Came first, five hundred miles from port,
A perching bird of homely sort,
And next in tumbling waters gray
Nantucket's gallant lightship lay
Rocking, lonely, small and black,
A moment's friend upon the track.

And then at night from shores unseen
Shone sparsely scattered lights serene,
Sweet tokens after all the days
Shifting and void of the sea's ways:
We watched past midnight to divine
The incredible shore's uncertain line;

Then, very wakeful, went below
Thrilled a new continent to know,

Rouse thee, old Time, thy folded pinions shake,
 Nor let them useless o'er thy shoulders lye;
Oh! 'tis fond love, impatient, bids thee wake,—
 That bids thee throw each vile encumbrance by.

Thy pond'rous scythe o'er roots of ripen'd grass,
 With nervous arm let yonder rustic sweep,
And break, in pity break thy uncouth glass,
 Through which the heavy sands so slowly creep.

Sluggard, arise! light borne on rapid wing,
 O! glide unwearied thro' the ambient air!
Haste, swiftly haste, th' extatic moment bring,

She came, fair Friendship came, with aspect bland,
A verdant wreath around her tresses twin'd,
O'er her cold breast, that scorn'd love's flaming brand,
An azure zone the spotless robe confin'd.

Her modest eyes with temper'd radiance shone;
Her voice was music to attention's ear;
She seem'd appointed from the heavenly throne,
As guardian angel to protect me here .

" Arise, ill-fated nymph, " she mildly said;

Calv'ry's tragedy is ended;
They have laid Him in the tomb,
And with jealous care, His enemies have sealed it;
But they cannot keep Him there,
For an earthquake rends the air,
And an angel rolls away the stone that closed it.

None are there to greet the Savior,
As He leaves the open tomb,
All forgotten are the promises He gave them;
And the women wend their way
To the tomb, ero it is day;
Not in faith, for death's sad emblems bring they with them.

Oh, the darkness of that morning,

Awaken'd by the radiant beams of morn,
 My drowsy soul snakes off oblivious sleep;
Hope's gay delusive smiles the day adorn,
 And, charm'd awhile, my eyes forget to weep:
But, ah! how transient her enliv'ning power!
Soon disappointment glooms the wish'd for hour,
That sad and silent glides in tears away;
 Then trembling, chill'd with agonizing woe,
 I long, yet dread the fatal cause to know,—
The cause that makes my Damon thus delay!
Flutt'ring Anxiety! terrific fears!
 Far from my bosom, Halcyon Peace, affright,

Calm was the Evening and clear was the Sky
when the new budding flowers do spring,
When all alone went Amintas and I
to hear the sweet nightingales sing.
I sate and he laid him down by me,
and scarcely his breath he could draw,
But when with a fear,
He begun to draw near,
He was dasht with a ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

He blusht to himself and lay still for a while
and his modesty curb'd his desire,
But strait I convinc'd all his fears with a smile
and added new flames to his fire:

Calm martyr of a noble cause,
Upon thy form in vain
The Dungeon shuts its cankered jaws,
And clasps its cankered chain;
For thy free spirit walks abroad,
And every pulse is stirred
With the old deathless glory thrill,
Whene'er thy name is heard.

The same that lit each Grecian eye,
Whene'er it rested on
The wild pass of Thermopylae —
The plain of Marathon;
And made the Roman's ancient blood
Bound fiercely as he told,
" How well Horatio kept the bridge,
In the brave days of old. "

Calm down, my Sorrow, we must move with care.
You called for evening; it descends; it's here.
The town is coffined in its atmosphere,
bringing relief to some, to others care.

Now while the common multitude strips bare,
feels pleasure's cat o' nine tails on its back,
and fights off anguish at the great bazaar,
give me your hand, my Sorrow. Let's stand back;

back from these people! Look, the dead years dressed
in old clothes crowd the balconies of the sky.
Regret emerges smiling from the sea,

Calm Death, God of crossed hands and passionless eyes,
Thou God that never heedest gift nor prayer,
Men blindly call thee cruel, unaware
That everything is dearer since it dies.
Worn by the chain of years, without surprise,
The wise man welcomes thee, and leaves the glare
Of noisy sunshine gladly, and his share
He chose not in mad life and windy skies.
Passions and dreams of love, the fever and fret
Of toil, seem vain and petty when we gaze
On the imperious Lords who have no breath:
Atoms or worlds, — we call them lifeless, yet