University of Virginia Library

SONNETS.—SPIRIT-FLIGHTS.

[I. Ah me! that sleeping like Endymion]

Ah me! that sleeping like Endymion,
Upon a gentle hill-slope flower bestrewn,
I could be laid to wait the coming moon,
And her fresh smile, as some rich garment, don!
Let the winds gather round me, and the dell,
That breaks into the valley catch the sound,
And, with its many voices, speed around
The airy rapture, till the natural spell
Rouse up the wood-nymphs to delight my sleep;
While she, my mistress, from her ocean cell,
Ascends to the blue summits, with a swell
Of those sweet noises from the caverns deep,
Where blue-eyed Nereids sport on ocean's shell,
And to old Triton's conch, in long procession sweep.

[II. Upon the poet's soul they flash forever]

Upon the poet's soul they flash forever,
In evening shades, these glimpses strange and sweet;
They fill his heart betimes—they leave him never,
And haunt his steps with sounds of falling feet:
He walks beside a mystery night and day;
Still wanders where the sacred spring is hidden;
Yet, would he take the seal from the forbidden,
Then must he work and watch, as well as pray!
How work? How watch? Beside him—in his way,—
Springs, without check, the flower, by whose choice spell,—
More potent than “herb moly,”—he can tell
Where the stream rises and the waters play!—
Ah! spirits call'd avail not! On his eyes,
Seal'd up with stubborn clay, the darkness lies.