EVENING.

PONTE A MARE, PISA.

I.

THE sun is set; the swallows are asleep;
The bats are flitting fast in the grey air;
The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep,
And evening's breath, wandering here and there
Over the quivering surface of the stream,
Wakes not one ripple from its summer dream.

II.

There is no dew on the dry grass to-night,
Nor damp within the shadow of the trees;
The wind is intermitting, dry, and light;

And in the inconstant motion of the breeze
The dust and straws are driven up and down,
And whirled about the pavement of the town.

III.

Within the surface of the fleeting river

The wrinkled image of the city lay,

Immovably unquiet, and for ever

It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the...

You, being changed, will find it then as now.

IV.

The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut
By darkest barriers of cinereous cloud,
Like mountain over mountain huddled - but
Growing and moving upwards in a crowd,
And over it a space of watery blue,
Which the keen evening star is shining through.

TO-MORROW.

I.

WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?

When young and old and strong and weak, Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow, Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,

In thy place ah! well-a-day!

We find the thing we fled - To-day.

II.

If I walk in Autumn's even

While the dead leaves pass,

If I look on Spring's soft heaven, -
Something is not there which was.
Winter's wondrous frost and snow,
Summer's clouds, where are they now?

MUSIC.

I.

I PANT for the music which is divine,
My heart in its thirst is a dying flower;
Pour forth the sound like inchanted wine,
Loosen the notes in a silver shower;
Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain,
I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.

II.

Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound,

More, O more, — I am thirsting yet,

It loosens the serpent which care has bound
Upon my heart to stifle it;

The dissolving strain, through every vein,
Passes into my heart and brain.

III.

As the scent of a violet withered up,

Which grew by the brink of a silver lake; When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup, And mist there was none its thirst to slake And the violet lay dead while the odour flew On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue

IV.

As one who drinks from a charmed cup

Of foaming, and sparkling and murmuring wine, Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up,

Invites to love with her kiss divine. .

THE ZUCCA.

I.

SUMMER was dead and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land
All cloudlessly and cold ; — when I, desiring
More in this world than any understand,
Wept o'er the beauty, which like sea retiring,

Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand
Of my lorn heart, and o'er the grass and flowers
Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.

II.

Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep
The instability of all but weeping;
And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep

I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.

Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping
From unremembered dreams, shalt

No death divide thy immortality.

see

I loved

III.

O no, I mean not one of ye,

Or any earthly one, though ye are dear As human heart to human heart may be ;

I loved, I know not what—but this low sphere And all that it contains, contains not thee,

Thou, whom seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. From heaven and earth, and all that in them are, Veiled art thou, like a

star.

IV.

By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,

Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden,

Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,

When for a moment thou art not forbidden

To live within the life which thou bestowest;
And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden,

Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight,

Blank as the sun after the birth of night.