I am the soul of the Universe,
In Nature's pulse I beat;
To Doom and Death I am a curse,
I trample them under my feet.

Creation's every voice is mine,
I breathe in its every tone;
I have in every heart a shrine,
A consecrated throne.

The whisper that sings in the summer leaves,
The hymn of the star-lit brook,
The martin that nests in the ivied eaves,
The dove in his shaded nook,

The quivering heart of the blushing flower,
The thick Æolian grass,
The harmonies of the summer shower,
The south wind's soft, sweet mass,

Let C OLERIDGE sing his G ENEVIEVE ,
Who at his sad song could but grieve,
And loved because she pitied;
And K EATS his lovely M ADELINE ,
With rosy mouth and eyes divine,
And lips for kisses fitted;
That with her lover through the night,
Darkness without, within all light,
To far-off countries flitted.
Let T ENNYSON his L ILIAN sing
And lovely O RIANA ,
And scale the skies with tireless wing,
In praise of M ARIANA ,
I sing one lovelier by far,
One pure and gentle as a star,
A modest, young, sweet creature,

Lovely is the night,
The silver moon
Sprinkles dewy light
O'er breathless June.
In her pretty cradle boat
Our lily on the stream
Is drifting to the strand
Where water-lilies float
Near the Isles of Dream
In the Somewhere Land.
Our baby flower is drifting,
Drifting, drifting
To the Isles of Dream
In the Somewhere Land.

In her beauty robes
Of rest and sleep,
Angels keep our babe
In slumber deep.
In her lily-petaled gown,
Our flower on the stream
Is closing like a hand
And drifting, drifting down

Heart of all holiness,
Gladness and glory,
God of all wisdom,
Wondrous the story:
Thou hast ordained me
Mother to be
Of a child of the ages
Born unto Thee.

Now is my spirit
Strong and uplifted,
To Thy great goodness
Holily gifted;
Be Thy bright splendour
Rayed on my child,
Kindness incarnate,
Lowliness mild.

Perfect, ennoble,
Sanctify woman;
Crown her with beauty,
Strengthen, illumine,
Till each love-offering
Humble as mine
Be joy-sacrificial,
Human-divine.

Now shall my body,

Come, my loved one, to the feast
Ere the rosy fringe of dawn
Steal into the slumbering east
And the last faint stars are gone.
Holy, holy is the night,
Blazing with its jewels bright.

Elfin lanterns gem the sea;
Thou than heaven more beauteous art;
Lo, I bring the gift to thee
Wonder-flaming in my heart.
Come, my loved one, ere the light
Banishes the lingering night.

Not where sultry southern skies
Languish over lilied bowers;
Where the artist Nature dyes
Scarlet the pomegranate flowers,

A thousand martyrs I have made,
All sacrific'd to my desire;
A thousand beauties have betray'd,
That languish in resistless fire.
The untam'd heart to hand I brought,
And fixed the wild and wandering thought.

I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain
But both, tho' false, were well receiv'd.
The fair are pleas'd to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believ'd.
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touched my heart.

Alone the glory and the spoil
I always laughing bore away;
The triumphs, without pain or toil,

My love is good, my love is feäir,
She's comely to behold, O,
In ev'rything that she do wear,
Altho' 'tis new or wold, O.
My heart do leäp to see her walk,
So straïght do step her veet, O,
My tongue is dum' to hear her talk,
Her vaice do sound so sweet, O.
The flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green
Do bear but vew, so good an' true.

When she do zit, then she do seem
The feäirest to my zight, O,
Till she do stan' an' I do deem,
She's feäirest at her height, O.
An' she do seem 'ithin a room
The feäirest on a floor, O,

Dear love, life has dewy mornings,
And the shadeless blaze of noon,
Flowers, that we stop to gather,
That fade from our hands so soon.

Dear love, there are meetings, partings,
We have sunshine, we have shade,
There's no continuing city
That our human hands have made.

We go onward, joy and sorrow
Checkers all the path we tread,
But our Father loves His children
And with loving care they're led.

Dear love, His great wisdom chooseth
The path that we both have trod,
And through storm, and calm, and sunshine,

Very tranquil lies the sea,
Rowers to your places move:
Even this is the ship of love.
While new songs the sirens sing
To their cadence you shall row,
Sorrow to your oars shall cling,
And in sadness and in woe
New sighs from old sighs shall grow,
And more griefs your spirit prove:
Even this is the ship of love.
And as thus you row distressed,
Fresh distresses shall you find,
Seas of danger and unrest,
Storms and buffeting of wind;
Yet content will in your mind
Reign all pain and grief above:
Even this is the ship of love.

O love of mine, some months ago
(Emotion my speech hinders)
Our passion lost its ruddy glow
And flickered out in cinders.

And yet, old dear, that winter through
(Before our paths divided)
Did any other care for you
As ardently as I did?

But now resumes love's festival,
Rekindling ancient embers—
And all the former fever shall
Revivify your members.

Again I'll woo you, and will deem
You worthy of your wages,
And, as a gauge of my esteem,
Keep steam up in your gauges.

When bitter blasts howl wintrily