Works

AD SOROREM E. B.

"Thy father was transfused into thy blood."

Dryden: Ode to Mrs. Anne Killigrew.

Our father works in us,
The daughters of his manhood. Not undone...

Listen, and when thy hand this paper presses,
O time-worn woman, think of her who blesses
What thy thin fingers touch, with her caresses.

O mother, for the weight of years that break thee!...

There's a feast undated yet:
Both our true lives hold it fast,-
The first day we ever met.
What a great day came and passed!
-Unknown then, but known at last.

And we met: You knew not me,...

Dear are some hidden things
My soul has sealed in silence; past delights,
Hope unconfessed; desires with hampered wings,
Remembered in the nights.

But my best treasures are...

No new delights to our desire
The singers of the past can yield.
I lift mine eyes to hill and field,
And see in them your yet dumb lyre,
Poets unborn and unrevealed.
...

Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers.
A poet's face asleep is this grey morn.
...

Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers.
A poet's face asleep is this grey morn.
...

Behold,
The time is now! Bring back, bring back
Thy flocks of fancies, wild of whim.
Oh lead them from the mountain-track -
Thy frolic thoughts untold.
Oh bring them in - the fields grow dim -...

A flock of winds came winging from the North,
Strong birds with fighting pinions driving forth
With a resounding call!

Where will they close their wings and cease their cries -...