University of Virginia Library

The Dragon Fly
Shoots spooming by,
No shape is seen
Except between
Those whirlwind-flights
Whose quickness smites
The sense with pain—
It leaves a train
Of pompous hues
That do suffuse
The chrystal air
With kindlings rare!—
And seems to oppress
With bright excess
The sight and brain—
That rich, rich rain
Of coloured splendours
Till surrenders
The aerial thing
Its play of wing,
And settles near
And shines forth clear!
That gorgeous lightening,
Opening, brightening—
Then straight is shown—
With shape its own—
That gem-bright blaze
That mocks the gaze,
That meteor-show
Which dazzleth so,
Which seems to be
A mystery,
A thing unreal—
A guest ideal—
While free and fast
It flashes past!
Then shines displayed,
In truth arrayed,
In shining vest,
Even thus at rest;
But paled the fire
Of thine attire,
And dimmed the glow
Of thy proud show;
Beside the bright
Unearthly light
Which mocked the eye
When thou went'st by;
Thou dazzling thing!
On rapid wing,
With whirlwind haste
In chase—or chased!
Oh! pale and faint
The hues that paint
That form so fair,
When we compare
These hues with those
Whose startling glows
The sight oppressed,
The sense distressed
With rich delight,
When on its flight
It darted past,
And seemed to cast
A rainbow gleam—
A meteor beam
Beneath, around,
On the air and ground,
There then it seemed
As past it streamed,
A fairy banner
In magic manner
Waved free and far,
With streak and star,
With rainbows laced,
With sun-lights graced,
And still beside
Illumed and dyed
With splendours such
As outstrip much
All things that here
To sight appear—
All things we know
On earth below,
All bright things fair
In sky and air,
All glories born
Of eve or morn,
Of common day
In wonted way,
Ev'n splendours drawn
From some far dawn
Where charmed all
And magical
Are the ardent rays
That meet the gaze;
Aye! something more
Than e'er before
With strange delight
Transfixed the sight,
Appeared to invest
That fairy guest—
As past it flew
To vex the view
With doubt perplexed—
Amazed and vexed—
Yet gladdened, pleased—
With rapture seized—
Then did it seem
A thing of Dream,
Born of the brain
With mystic train!
Or of the eye,
A phantasy
That darting danced
Where'er it glanced!
Where'er it roved
In bright maze moved,—
From the Orb's own light
Of magic might
Brought forth and framed—
(While truth it shamed)
Like spectre things
Which even thus brings
Distemperature
To amaze, to allure—
To shift and shoot
All still and mute
About the path
Of one who hath
Such mystic dower—
Creative Power!
Oh! vision fair—
Oh! mystery rare—
Most gorgeous thought
O'erwooed—o'erwrought,
Unearthly Dream,
Intense, supreme,
Fine Phantasy!—
Brought forth by the eye!
To charm and draw
By certain law—
The sense from whence
It springs intense—
While far and near
It doth career—
Ev'n such it seems—
Ev'n so it beams!—
While swift and strong
It shoots along—
Behold—unrolled
It doth unfold
For evermore
Yet fairer store
Unto the view
Of glories new!—
But when 'tis won,
To rest upon
Some blossomed spray
Beside the way,
And shines revealed,
How doth it yield
Each magic charm—
Itself disarm,
Itself divest
Ev'n thus at rest,
Of that which most
It had to boast—
Oft its chief source
Of witching force—
Of its best right
To attract the sight—
Variety—
And Mystery!
(For nought like these
Can touch and please!)—
The Dream—the Thought
Is none—is nought—
The charm is crossed,
The vision lost,
The show in sooth
It is a truth!
The phantasy
Reality!
All Nature's own
The mystery's shown,
Sweet Doubt doth die
In Certainty!
The wonderous guest
From regions blest,
From realms afar
Of Sun or Star,
The aëry spright
On wings of light
That Fancy sees
As 'twere a breeze—
With form endowed
And with a shroud
Of splendour clad
To make us glad!—
Or it might be
So fair, so free,
A breathing beam—
Existent gleam—
Embodied ray
Just snatched from Day!—
That fleeting elf
That seemed itself
In sweet suspense
To doubt from whence
Its being sprang,
And still to hang
'Twixt Earth and Heaven,
As though 'twere driven
To seek its place
In restless chase—
To find its sphere
Both far and near
Becometh straight,
While yet we wait,
With thy charmed eye
Expectancy!
A living thing
That doth but spring
From our own Earth,
From common birth,
No child of light,
No aëry spright—
No imp—no elf—
That seeks itself—
From far realms sent
With fond intent—
To know, to find
Its home assigned—
Its place—its path—
The course it hath
On Earth to run,
Beneath the Sun.
The fare—the fate
Which must await
Its wanderings here—
Its new career!—
Its doom unknown—
Its goal unshown—
Its hidden road—
Its veiled abode—
No mystic thing
With fairy wing—
But something born
Of the Earth we scorn,
When thus we brood
In dreaming mood—
Of Fancy's power
In some sweet hour—
When griefs seem gone,
When cares are none—
(When smiling schemes
And sunny dreams
Float through the mind,
That leaves behind
Its fears, its pains,
Its galling chains,
Its many woes
That find repose,
Its thoughts that vex
And but perplex—)
Even something sprung
Earth's bowers among,
From dust and clay
To fleet away,
As soon as aught
Of dream or thought,
As Sylph or Spright
On wings of light—
From regions far
Of Sun or Star—
As Elf or Fay
That may not stay
As all—as aught
By magic brought
From worlds remote,
That viewless float
And run their race
In the Azure space
Unseen—unknown—
Through ages flown
Unknown—unseen—
As they'd ne'er been!—
As all—as aught
By Fancy caught,
To charm awhile—
And gleam and smile
With tender glow
Round us below!—
No thought, no dream,
No visioned beam,
No Phantasy
Can faster fly,
Can sooner stray
Afar—away—
Away—afar
From things that are—
Or swiftlier pass
Like withered grass—
Like dried up dews,
Or faded hues,
Or clouds dispersed,
Or bubbles burst,
Than—that fair Form,
All quick and warm—
That living thing
On active wing,
Sentient of all
That may befall
In its brief life
With pleasures rife—
Impelled along
Thus swift and strong,
(Though small and slight
May seem to sight
That fluttering frame)—
By some glad aim
To it alone
Distinctly known—
Yes! that ere long
The swift, the strong
Shall fleet away
In quick decay,
Nor more be found
On mortal ground,
Nor more appear
In beauty here—
Just glimpsed and gone
Like lights that shone—
A moment's space,
With meteor-grace;
Then vanished fast,
And swiftly passed,
Like bloom from fruit,
Like shades that shoot
From clouds which cross
Yon Sun, where toss
The billows proud,
By tempests ploughed,
Like breath-stain slight
From mirror bright,
Like frozen gems
On quivering stems,
When Suns shine warm
And break their charm,
Like aught—like all
That soon must fall,
That soon must fly,
Depart—or die!
And still, alas!
(Since we thus pass)
Like evermore
To those whose store
Of treasures dear
Should not be here,
Whose lasting home
Of lengthened doom
May not be placed
'Midst Life's bleak waste.
Ourselves!—that gaze
On Sunlight's blaze,
A little while,
And weep and smile
And toil and rest,
(A Season's guest)
And doubt and trust,
Then dwell in dust!
And close the eye,
First dream—then die—
First toil and rest,
Then sink oppressed
By slumber deep,
By changeless sleep,
That gives not way
To the opening Day,
Stern sleep, thrice-sealed,
That may not yield
Its place—its turn,
(Strict rest and stern)
To wakeful hours—
And conscious powers—
Aye! like to us
That vanish thus,
That thus are borne
From light and morn,
That thus are bowed
Beneath Death's cloud—
That thus decay
And fleet away,
And disappear
Like dry leaves sere!
Like scattered foam
From waves that come
In thundering might,
All wild and white,
With rush and roar
To the answering shore—
Like shadows thrown
From faint clouds down!

Oh! Dragon Fly
That shooteth by
In fiery haste,
As though close chased
By foe—for prey—
Or feere—for play!
That hurrieth past
In flashes fast,
As lightnings do,
When storm-clouds strew
Heaven's darkened face
And burthen space—
Why pause ye near,
Why stay ye here?
On, on—away—
Make no delay;
Still seem to be,
Fair thing and free,
A wonder rare,
A child of air,
A mystery strange,
Nor darkly change
To something known,
And all our own!
Pause not—proceed,
And be indeed
A mystic guest
That cannot rest,
A troubled spright—
Whose Life's a flight—
Thus shalt thou seem
Some beauteous dream,
Thus shalt thou be
In journeyings free,
A wond'rous thing
On untired wing!
It shines, it glows,
It scorns repose—
That wond'rous thing
That seems to bring
Some message fair
From upper air—
It floats, it fleets,
Returns, retreats,
Moves here, moves there,
Melts, lost in air.
Then back it comes,
And roves and roams,
Up springs on wings
Of fire, still higher—
Or ends—descends
And bends—and blends
With shades and hues
That soft suffuse
The rainbowed ground
Flower-cinctured round—
Again to rise
With its own dyes,
Or ere we guess
Its sweet recess—
Or ere we spy
Its privacy,
The chosen spot
To which it shot,
Where lost it lay,
Till up away
It darted forth
Again from Earth—
Again appeared
And gladly steered
Its happy course
With strengthened force—
And we remain
Unwearied—fain
To watch its play!
Its mazy way
To follow still
With earnest will—
Where'er it move—
With eyes of love
We follow close
As loath to lose!—
With eyes of love
Around, above,
And earnest will,
We follow still
Its mazy flight—
And reap delight
From watching so
That sparkling show—
Till Lo! 'tis gone—
And shines the Sun
With feebler ray
Since it lent day
A richer garb,
And seemed to barb
Each glittering beam,
That Lightning-Dream
With coloured flame
That hath no name!
And more than this
We seem to miss,
A spirit Light
All purely bright,
A finer ray
Than springs from day,
When that is gone
Which gleamed and shone
With dazzling strife,
A Light-a Life—
And almost seemed,
While thus it beamed,
As Life and Light
With adverse might
Were struggling there,
As each would bear
The mastery still
With conscious will—
The Light, the Life
At lovely strife,
In beauteous war—
Star battling Star!

Oh! Dragon Fly!
That shooteth by
In fearless glee,
Unchecked and free,
Would'st thou retain
Thy sway, and reign
O'er Fancy's powers,
Through passing hours,
Away—away,
Oh! shun display,
Delay not here—
Descend not near—
Disclose not now—
Divulge not thou
Thy form of grace
For us to trace
With piercing eye
Of scrutiny—
With care and art
Even part by part,
Even fleck by fleck,
And speck by speck,
Too soon—too soon
Familiar grown—
We cease to see,
Fair thing, in thee
Such charms supreme
As once did seem
To gird thee around,
And know no bound—
An insect fair
We gaze on there,
A beauteous fly
We there descry,
With colourings bright
Revealed to sight
In radiant store,
And nothing more—
A living thing
With graceful wing,
With fine shape rare,
With splendours fair,
Illumed and dyed—
And nought beside!—
Oh! Dragon Fly!
Shoot pauseless by,
If thou would'st keep
That influence deep
Which thou hadst gained—
(The while enchained
And rapt and pleased,
With wonder seized,
We stood and gazed,
Transfixed, amazed,
At thee—borne past
So far and fast!)
That influence fine
Thou calledst thine,
Which thou'st acquired,
Oh! much admired!—
That gentle sway
We joyed to obey,
Which thou—unknown
Didst make thine own.

Hope! thou dost strike
My thought as like
That Dragon Fly
Which darteth by—
Hope—heavenly thing,
While on the wing—
Thou shape of Light—
Most gorgeous Spright!—
Thou imp—thou elf,
That not thyself
May'st know from whence
(In rich suspense—)
Thou first didst spring
Mysterious thing,
Nor yet may'st know,
(Placed here below,
A stranger guest
That seeks its rest)
Where shall be found
On mortal ground
Thy splendent home—
Thy sheltering dome.—
Worlds sparkle o'er thee,
Earth, Heaven before thee
Lie shining, smiling,
And all beguiling—
Light laughs around thee,
No chains have bound thee,
Delight shines bright
O'er thy free flight,
And seems to call
Response from all,
As sweet—to greet
Thy movements fleet!
Oh! Hope! no home,
No sheltering dome
Can thine be here
On this mixed sphere!
Oh! Hope! no home
Thou need'st—thy doom
Should ever be
Unvaryingly
To forward fly,
And still to try
Bright pathways new,
And wander through
The boundless air,
And still to share
Each gentle gale
From mount and vale,
Each trembling gleam
From Sky or stream,
Reflecting fair
The glories there
In that sweet Sky
Outspread—on high—
Each note of mirth
That thrills the Earth,
Each smile of cheer
That sparkleth here,
Each dream of bliss
That recked of is!—
Hope—hour by hour,
From flower to flower,
Pursue thy way,
Nor deign to stay,
Alight not near,
Nor thy career
Attempt to check,
Or dread thy wreck!
Hope! child of Light,
Pursue thy flight!
We deem thee all
That we can call
Divine—supreme—
While thou dost seem
No mortal thing
With Earth-bound wing,
But something lent,
And sweetly sent
From Heavenlier clime—
Serene—sublime—
To bless and cheer
The wanderers here—
While thou dost glance
Scarce glimpsed perchance—
Full swiftly by,
Winged Phantasy,
And seem'st to wear,
Supremely fair,
Celestial dyes
To our charmed eyes—
Celestial stamp!—
A living lamp
To illuminate
Our path of Fate,
To shed around,
E'en without bound,
A dazzling glow
Unmatched below,
A flying Sun
That shall not run
In twelve brief hours,
With measured powers,
Its glorious race—
Then in its place
Leave angry Night
To chill and blight,
To lower around
As chaos frowned,
Ere Light—thy Light,
Oh! Sun!—most bright
Burst forth sublime
O'er Space and Time!
No! Hope divine!
Still brighter shine
From hour to hour
With mightier power
But thus to do,
Proceed!—pursue
Thy onward way
Both night and day,
Nor e'er descend
And deign to blend
With Earthly things,
For Fancy flings
Round thee a charm
Soft, quick, and warm,
That still seems given
Direct from Heaven—
That wins the Soul—
As thence it stole
At once away,
All faint dismay,
All bitterness,
And fond distress,
All doubt and fear
That haunt us here!—
A charm of strength
To wring at length
The drop accursed
Of sins—the worst—
From out the heart
That knows the smart
Of grief and pain,
And their dark train—
And worse—the throe
Of that wild woe—
Whose direful source
Is harsh remorse,
The black drop foul
That stained the Soul,
That charm had power
In happiest hour,
In brightest day
To wring away.
For Hope! sweet guest,
Thy sway confessed,
Still bright and high
Doth purify—
Doth animate
And elevate
With joy and love
The Soul above
Its mortal doom
Of dearth and gloom;
And while, fair thing,
Thou'rt on the wing,
Thy glorious aim
Still seems the same—
Thy goal supreme
Doth ever seem
Heaven—Heaven—to be
Triumphantly.
But, radiant Hope,
When thou dost stoop
Upon thy flight
From thy proud height,
And when thou'rt won
To rest upon
Some Earth-born thing
Where thou dost cling—
As though no more
Urged as before,
To wander free
In strength and glee.
When thou seem'st bound
On mortal ground
To one fixed spot,
Progressing not—
When resting near
Thou dost appear
Disclosed, revealed,
No more concealed
From the earnest gaze,
By the ardent blaze
Of Lightning-Light,
Which thy swift flight
Around thee cast
So free and fast.
Much dost thou lose
Of those rich hues,
So Heavenly fair
Which thou didst wear
In rainbow change
On thy wide range—
Forbear—beware—
If thou dost care
To reign—to enchain
The heart and brain,
Nor droop, sweet Hope,
Nor deign to stoop,
Nor ere descend,
Nor downwards tend,
For thine own sake
Forbear to take
A certain shape,
Away—escape
From the eager eye
That would descry
And pierce thy pall,
Of Mystery all!
Or half thy boast
Of Power is lost,
Thy mightiest arms,
Thy deepest charms
Are gone—undone—
For ever flown!
We dreamt we saw
With raptured awe
A deathless Spright
From Realms of light,
A messenger
To arouse—to stir
The Soul's pure fires
And best desires
To kindle forth
Its noblest worth,
To exalt, to bless
With happiness
Which hath not found
On Earthly ground
A name as yet,
Too seldom met,
Too rarely known
To be our own—
We dreamt of this
In dreams of bliss,
Instead we find
When marked, defined,
Thy form is seen
Distinct, I ween—
(And wholly reft
Of that which left
The excursive thought
All fancy-fraught
To image more
Enchanted store,
Of graces there,
And build up fair
A vision crowned
With pomp profound,)
A child of Earth
Of mortal birth—
A form though fair
And bright and rare,
Yet framed of dust
And ashes—just
As here we see
All things to be—
No more we trace
Celestial grace
Developed there
For naught to impair—
No more we view
For ever new
The light divine
That seemed to shine
Around that form
Fresh, vivid, warm—
Nor more behold
The Etherial mould
We fondly deemed,
While bright it beamed,
That radiant guest
In truth possessed!—
Nor more perceive
The while we weave
A thousand schemes
And varying dreams,
The unearthly blaze
That brought amaze,
Which seemed to dwell,
Unutterable,
Round that rare thing
On fluttering wing,
The spell at last
Is o'er—is past!
We view it nigh
And straight espy
Each taint of Earth
Of natural birth,
The stamp it bears,
The shape it shares
Of mortal things,
Nor more it brings
Thoughts bright and high
When gazed on nigh,
The ground-born hue
Starts forth to view—
The ground-spread shade
Is there displayed—
We see thee close
And thou dost lose
Thy power to enchant—
Fair Visitant!
While still we own
Though much be flown
Thou dost possess
Deep loveliness—
And still we trace
Full much of grace
In that fair form,
Though from the worm,
The dust, the clay,
Still, sooth to say,
'Tis darkly sprung
Earth's haunts among,
Yet, yet I say
Away—away—
Forbear, bright Hope!
To droop, to stoop—
Beware—forbear—
Still float in air
With buoyant speed,
Would'st thou indeed
Thy reign maintain,
Our Souls enchain,
Our fancies fire,
Our thoughts inspire,
Our hearts delight,
Our feelings smite!
Far forward shoot,
And tempt pursuit—
Nor let us see
Who worship thee,
How thou'rt allied
Like all beside
With dross and dust,
As still we must
When we behold
Thy form unfold!
Bright Hope! forbear
To approach too near—
When th' object's gained,
The end attained,
The chase is done,
The proud prize won,
How soon do men
Discover then
Its paltry worth,
Its wretched dearth!—
And sadly find
With altered mind
The thing they deemed
(While rapt they dreamed
Of deep delight
No change could blight)
Of Heavenly birth
Belongs to Earth!—
The thing they thought
Supremely fraught
With charms divine
That no decline
Might ever know—
Nor change of show
Earth's livery wears,
Earth's features bears—
The Child of Change!—
Whose widest range
Is yet confined
(Though like the Wind
It seems to be
Unchecked and free)
To haunts assigned,
To spots defined,
Which evermore
It hovereth o'er—
It wheels around
Its measured bound,
It soars, it springs
On its fair wings—
As though 'twould rise
To yonder skies—
Yet all the while
'Tis harmless guile,
'Tis doomed to cleave
To Earth, nor leave
Through lengthened hours
Her shadowy bowers,
But this is nought
If to our thought
It seems to be
Divinely free—
Oh! better far
Like glittering Star
To be thus borne
In aëry scorn
Of the humble ground,
(Though flowery-crowned
And kissed by beams
In sudden gleams,
With glow and smile
It blush the while!)
Even though it be
But partially
In one marked place
And measured space
To heights assigned,
With scope confined,
Than to disclose
In dull repose
Each tinge—each taint,
However faint,
Each stain—each streak
That serves to speak
Its close-drawn ties,
With all that lies
The Sun beneath,
Condemned to death!
Still Hope—then float—
Though not remote—
Yet far enough
For ever off
For us to see
Rich mystery
Around thee thrown
Since when our own—
When once all ours,
With thy fair dowers,
Shown forth—made clear—
Too sure—too near—
We turn away
And sorrowing say
“My Hope shone far
A Morning Star,
A thing too fair
For mortal air—
But now—but now
I know not how
The enchantment sinks,
The triumph shrinks,
Th'illusion's past—
To Truth at last
I sorrowing wake
And overtake
That shape of light
Whose glorious flight
Appeared to be
So wildly free—
The shape I thought
A vision caught
From worlds above
Of Light and Love—
'Tis bright—'tis fair—
But never there
Again shall eye
Of mine espy
The unearthly grace
It joyed to trace
In thousand ways
In other days,
Where moved in light
That Vision bright—
That Vision's o'er!
'Tis now no more
A Dream of Heaven
In pity given,
To teach the mind
To leave behind
Earth's hollow joys—
Poor paltry toys—
Earth's empty scenes
To which oft leans
The heart unwise,
For which it sighs!
With vain desire
And fatal fire—
'Tis born of Earth,
In common birth
With all beside
On Earth descried!
Its elements
While each consents
To pale decay,
Are dust and clay,
Its life a breath,
Its haven—Death!”
'Tis thus we wail
And tell the tale
Of mortal Hope,
When sadly ope
Our altered eyes
With grieved surprise
To Truth at length
In all its strength,
To fragments fall
Our fancies all,
Our mood is marred,
Our joys are jarred,
Our schemes subversed,
Our dreams dispersed,
Our labours lost,
Our counsels crost,
Our triumphs tamed,
Our sapience shamed,
And we are left
Of much bereft—
And change comes o'er
The Heart's wrung core,
We trod on air,
And mocked at care,
Upbuoyed—inspired,
Aroused and fired
By rapturous zeal
'Twas bliss to feel!
We tread on dust
And all mistrust
That Happiness
Which still grows less;
With cares alloyed,
With doubts destroyed,
With shadows stained,
When 'tis attained!
Then Hope away,
We court thy stay,
We wait to catch,
We watch to snatch,
Unchecked—untired
The thing desired—
We onwards press,
We glimpse, we guess,
We shape, we scheme,
We doubt, we dream,
We track, we touch,
With joy we clutch
At length our prize—
While from our eyes
The film doth fall,
Which charmed all—
Made things more bright
To the earnest sight—
Still let us grope
Transcendant Hope—
Bedazzled, blind,
(With willing mind!)
By thy rich light
Too strangely bright,
And onwards press,
And glimpse and guess,
And brave—and blink!—
And snatch—and shrink!—
And forge, and frame,
And doubt, and dream,
And tempt, and try,
And strive, and sigh,
Nor e'er awake,
Nor quite o'ertake
The thing desired,
By which inspired
We forward fly
Unweariedly—
Still onwards press
In zeal's excess,
And still adore
Yet more and more
That Vision fair
Outshining there,
Nor ever find
With saddened mind,
How little worth
On this dark Earth
The things we love
And most approve,
Must seem to be
When we can see
Those things aright
By no false light!
No borrowed dyes
Then charm our eyes,
We view them through
A medium true,
And sad it is
When even our bliss,
Possessed, assured,
And gained, secured,
Can bring a thought
With trouble fraught!

Oh! Dragon Fly,
That hurrieth by
In glad content
And merriment,
Teach me to be
As glad, as free—
Thy sunshine life
May know not strife!
A little while
In Nature's smile
'Tis thine to bask,
Thy lightsome task
To stray, and play
The hours away,
Then sets thy Sun,
Thy day is done,
Thy fate is fixed,
And thou art mixed
With all things past,
Too bright to last!—
Fair faded flowers
Of broken bowers,
Rich clouds that shone,
Then melted down
To Earth in tears,
In by-gone years
Bright meteors lost—
A moment's boast!—
Sweet leaves decayed
That long since made
The green wood fair,
Free fluttering there,
And myriad things
On chainless wings,
As glad as thou
Art surely now—
Thy little life
With transports rife
Shall soon in peace
Untroubled cease,
And thou shalt be
A Phantasy—
Aye! thou shalt seem
Ev'n so a dream
Of memory
Fair thing to me—
If ever thought
Of thee be brought
Unto my brain
Indeed again,
And sure it shall!—
I must recall
This lovely hour
Of peaceful power,
Aye! thoughts shall come,
Not thoughts of gloom,
But such as soothe
With quiet truth
The mind's unrest
And trouble, best!
Thoughts deep and dear
Of all that here
Proclaim aloud
To this World's crowd
Of Beings born—
Oh! not to mourn!—
This truth supreme
(Which Nature's scheme
For ever shows,
And proves to those
Who still are bent
With Soul intent
To learn her lore,
And deep to store
Her counsels pure,
And precepts sure,
Within the mind
With faith entwined)
That Truth august
Which claims our trust,
That Heaven above
Doth watch in Love
O'er all things here—
Profoundly dear
To him who made
And who displayed
His glorious might
And Power aright,
Beyond all thought
In making, fraught
With excellence,
Which proves from whence
They take their rise
To searching eyes!—
Oh! if a fly,
But born to die,
When some few days
Of Summer-blaze
Have gaily shone
Its path upon—
Can the object prove
Of Heavenly Love,
As none can doubt
Whose thoughts about
Such themes I ween
'Midst this mixed scene
Have been (if still
From jaundiced will
Serenely free
They brightly be)
Ere yet employed
Thus unalloyed
By errors vile
That some beguile—
(And dreams impure
That may allure
The worldly mind
And strike it blind)
For those who seek
With ardour meek,
And tempered fire,
And schooled desire,
Through Nature's book
With care to look
Must feel and know
That it is so—
Can, can it be
Indeed that we
That love shall miss
And lose that bliss—
Profusely round
Without a bound
Spread, scattered wide
On every side?
No! the insect may
In joyaunce play
In the orient beam,
And haply seem
More blest, more free
Awhile than we,
But this proud Globe
With royal robe
Of sunshine drest,
And sumptuous vest
Of beauteous dye,
With canopy
Of boundless state,
Whose dazzling freight
Of Jewels clear,
Is sphere on sphere
With yon bright Sun,
Its loveliest one!
With countless things
Fair Beauty's springs!—
And ornament
Magnificent
Of vernal pride
With emerald dyed,
While fruit and flower
And foliage shower
Their treasures bright
Upon the sight—
This was not made
(Though thus arrayed
With pompous show
And dazzling glow,
With bloom and light
To charm our sight)—
To be our home.
No! light and bloom
And radiant glow
And glorious show
May chance beguile
One little while
Man's careful eye
Delightfully—
And gently cheer
His sojourn here,
But not below
We deeply know
On mortal ground
Can e'er be found
Our place of rest!—
A passing guest
Man is beneath
With fleeting breath.
This grand Creation
No habitation
Of lengthened date
For his proud state
May prove to be
Though fair to see—
A fairer far
Where all things are
Pure, deathless, bright,
And crowned with light
That never waneth,
But still retaineth
Its boundless blaze
Of cloudless rays!—
Awaiteth him—
While dull and dim
With that compared
Heaven hath declared
Through lips, inspired
(Howe'er admired
Its glories be—
Still bright to see)
This Earth below
Of brilliant show
Is still, despite
That bloom, that light,
Which makes it seem
One dazzling dream—
Sufficeth not
This radiant spot,
This splendid scene
For him I ween!
His great career
May end not here—
A pilgrim he
On Earth must be,
His goal not won
He journeyeth on—
Nor long he stays,
Nor here delays—
His time is short,
The grave's his port.
And yet not so,
Ah! surely no!—
The grave's the gate
To which his fate
Conducteth him,
It frowneth dim,
But it shall lead
To light indeed!
Then let not fear
Disturb him here,
Nor doubt distress,
Nor pain possess—
Beyond the tombs
The triumph comes,
The truth shall shine,
The truth divine!
The glory burst
Upon him first!
When he awakes
(And gladly breaks
His mortal chain)
To Life again,
Not such a Life
Disturbed with strife,
As still in woe
He lives below—
But Life without
A grief, a doubt!
The dark grave shut
On him is but
The gate that opes
To all his Hopes,
Then, then he springs
On angel wings
To boundless heights,
To crowned Delights,
To worlds of bliss
Unknown in this—
Immortal man
Thy Life's a span,
A point in space
Thy measured race
On mortal ground—
No check, no bound
Shalt thou find there
Where doth prepare
High Heaven thy seat,
Just—fair and meet
For deathless Powers.
'Mid fadeless bowers
A radiant clime
Serene—sublime
A waits thee there;
Celestial air
Shall fan thy brow
So darkened now,
Immortal hues
Shall soft suffuse
The scene around
With glory crowned,
No change shall come,
No cloud of doom,
To spoil or blight
Those worlds of Light;
Thou'rt on thy way
Still day by day
To these far seats,
The august retreats
Of Spirits blessed,
In golden rest—
Not here's thy part,
Below thou art
A stranger still
Through grief, through ill,
That struggleth on
Till rest is won—
Till strife is stilled
And fate fulfilled!
Thou art below
We own, we know,
A Wanderer—
A Prisoner!
For thralled thou art,
With yearning heart
That fain—in vain—
Would break the chain,
Thou'rt still detained
And all constrained
One path to tread,
Still sped, and led
With yielding feet
Where thou shalt meet
With divers fates,
Try various states—
But still enthralled
And barred and walled,
Shalt thou remain
With yoke and chain!

This world so bright
O'erflowed with Light,
This Regal World
Emblazed, empearled
With gems resplendent
And pomps transcendant
Adorned and crowned
Above, around
With treasures fair
And beauties rare—
Incessant change
Sublime and strange
Of glorious show,
Whose living glow
May well enchain
Both sense and brain!
Say, shall it be,
Oh! Man, for thee,
Thou Lord of Time!
The native clime?—
Heaven teacheth us
It is not thus!
This mighty Earth
With wealth and worth
Of sumless stores—
Whose Seas and Shores
Are thronged and teeming
Beyond our dreaming
With precious things,
Whose affluence brings
To man delight,
And glads his sight!
Whose mount and plain
With gold and grain
Are charged and crowded,
While shrined and shrouded
They're hidden there,
Those stores so fair,
Those gifts of good
For him endued
With excellence
That doth dispense
Bright gladness round—
Still perfect found,
(Withheld awhile
To tempt his toil,
To task, to try
His energy!
To teach, to test
His tutored breast—
And call forth all
His powers that fall
And sink away
In dull decay,
And by disuse
Their vigour lose—
If unemployed
Made vain and void
By sluggish rest
In his sealed breast—
But strengthened, armed,
And waked, and warmed,
When well applied,
And tasked, and tried,
And roused, and reared,
Called forth, and cheered)
This Earth whose field
Immense doth yield,
All bounteous boons
Which fervid noons
And dewy primes
In divers climes
With rich increase
That may not cease,
Conspire to grant
To meet each want,
Production fast,
Profusion vast—
This Earth—that wears
Through circling years
From side to side
Fair flowing wide
Fertility—
A garment free,
That wrapped around
Her form is found
For evermore
From shore to shore!—
The while doth smile
O'er coast and isle
And continent
Of broad extent,
Rich Plenty's face
Of roseate grace—
This wond'rous Earth
With wealth and worth
Unknown, untried,
Of stores supplied—
Whate'er may be
Its majesty!—
Its proud excess
Of loveliness,
Its rare array
And bright display,
Its boast, its pride,
All flushed and dyed
With golden bloom,
Which doth assume
A hue celestial
Though but terrestrial!—
While in the Sky
Gleams Day's broad eye,
All girt and graced
And brightly laced
With splendours sheen—
A beauteous scene!—
This Earth so fair
Did Heaven prepare
Indeed to be
Man's sanctuary?—
His lasting home
(With Star-gemmed dome—
With flower-paved floor
Thick covered o'er
With fulgence bright—
Reflected Light!)—
No—no—vain thought!
Howe'er 'tis fraught
With Beauty's best,
Howe'er possessed,
Of charms untold
That still unfold
This Palace Pile,
Whose matchless style
Proclaims aloud
By whom endowed
With strength and grace—
Harmonious trace—
Proportions fair,
Perfections rare,
And rich device—
This Edifice
So proud, so vast,
So framed to last,
This Palace Pile
That doth the while
Sublime reflect
Of the Architect
The gracious Will,
The unbounded skill,
The Eternal might,
Yet not aright!—
Oh! faintly forth
The unuttered worth,
The power divine
Reflected shine
When imaged here
On this far sphere,
Though this be made
Complete—yet weighed
With Him who wrought
It seems as nought—
Aye! then it sinks
And pales and shrinks—
This Temple bright
Where rosy light
For ever plays
With sacred rays,
Fresh from that fount
Of Light, where mount
Our thoughts when they
In silence pray,
That fount of flame
Still shown the same,
Whose brightness tells
Of Him who dwells
In brightness veiled,
In heights unscaled!—
This proud abode
On Man bestowed,
Of pomp untold,
Behold—behold,
'Tis worthy deemed,
And fit esteemed,
We wondering see
Alone to be
His dwelling Place
For briefest space—
Nay—sooth to say,
Which marvell may
Yet more arouse
His Prison-house!—
His vasty cell
Wherein to dwell
Constrained—confined,
(With chains to bind,
Checked, chained—constrained—
Deterred—detained)—
He seemeth doomed,
As though entombed!—
For dungeoned here
It must appear
He still remains—
In fleshly chains!
Yet lodged the while
In noblest Pile,
In proudest Dome
That might become
For ampler date
A monarch's state—
This captive seems
While round him beams
This world—(arrayed
In glory—made—
With skill supreme)
Which aye doth teem
With precious things,
And golden springs
Of Beauty pure
That still endure,
This sumptuous seat
That might seem meet
For Angel-Powers
With starry dowers
Of Spirit-Light—
Creative Might—
Is't but indeed
Designed to lead
To Worlds above
All Light—all Love—
That deeply are
More glorious far—
Is this fair sphere
Which doth appear
To watchful eye
Of scrutiny
Impartial—just)—
An Ark august—
A mansion proud
That might enshroud
High Beings dread,
Who widely spread
Imperial Rule—
The vestibule
Of prouder Domes,
And loftier homes,
And nought beside
With all its pride?
And but the place
For our fallen race—
Wherein to toil
And wash the soil
With Sorrow's tears
Through rolling years—
Condemned they are
And banished far
From those bright seats,
Those fair retreats,
Those radiant climes
A thousand times
More fair, more bright,
More full of light,
More full of bliss
And bloom than this—
That brightly wait
Beyond the gate
Of yon dark grave
Which yawns to save!
Then, Oh! how fair!—
Can Fancy dare
In glimpsings faint
Those scenes to paint—
Can Hope ev'n raise
To that dread blaze
Her Eagle eyes
That court the Skies?—
Since those surpass
These scenes that glass
To pious view
Sublimely too
Of him who made
The Shadow's Shade!
And that alone
Would cast a zone
Resplendent round
This Earthly bound,
And round it thrown
Would light and crown
With awful grace
Its place, in Space!
Heaven!—Heaven!—how fair
Beyond compare
Must thy worlds be
Oe'rpoweringly!
How glorious all
With dazzling wall
Of Glory-Light
Which Spirit-Sight
Scarce well can bear,
Heaven!—Heaven!—how fair!
And can it be
In truth that we
Are th'heirs for whom
Beyond the tomb
Those worlds shine forth—
We—Sons of Earth?
Can—can it be
Indeed that we
Are th'heirs for whom
In boundless bloom
That scene expands—
Those Promised Lands
Illustrious shine
With pomp divine—
What deep excess
Of thankfulness
Should fill the Soul,
That such a goal
Is thus designed
For humankind!
What earnestness
Of zeal should press
Unpausing on
Till nobly won,
Those Worlds of Love
May brightly prove
Those heights may be
Eternally!

Oh! Dragon Fly!
That family
Of which thou'rt one,
Born of the Sun,
May never spring
On strengthened wing,
With lengthened flight
To worlds more bright
Than this beneath,
Whose bloom and breath
Sufficeth ye,
Sweet family!
Then this below
Ye may not know
A lovelier clime,
Supreme—sublime!
No fairer place
A waits your race,
Oh! Dragon Fly
That hurrieth by!
Then speed in power
From flower to flower,
Till light is gone
Fly cheerly on!
Still stray, and play
The day away!
Forget—forget
That Sun must set
Which lights thee now,
For surely thou
Hast nought to fear
Though night frown drear,
Thine aim and bent
Are innocent—
And fraught with nought
Of thought o'erwrought
May be thy breast,
Light fairy-guest!
Nor Hope nor fear
Possess thee here!
Enjoyment's truth
Is thine in sooth—
Unclouded peace
In glad increase
Still dwells with thee
Bright wanderer free!
Nor on—nor back
On thy glad track
Look'st thou the while
In sunshine's smile—
The Present is
Thy time of bliss,
To thee alone
The Present's shown,
Past—Future hour
May have no power
On thee—brave thing,
On daring wing!
Earth smiles around thee,
The Sun hath crowned thee
With hues that strike
As jewel-like!
All Nature still
Round thee doth thrill
With cloudless joy
Without alloy,
She overflows
Like summer's rose
With beauty deep,
Which seems to steep
The Earth, the Air
With sweetness rare!
She glowing yields
From groves and fields,
Vales, streams, and founts,
Rocks, heaths, and mounts,
Sweet sights, sweet sounds
To fresh birth bounds
For evermore
With richer store
Of charms complete
Thy path to greet,
Thou happy thing
Whose life is spring!
Then fly afar
With nought to mar
On this green Earth
Thy buoyant mirth,
Thy landmarks meet
Are flowerets sweet—
These tempt, these light
Thy joyous flight
Which ev'n to watch
Must be to catch
Some kindlings dear
Of blameless cheer.
Thy path still lies
Beneath the Skies,
Where'er most things
Whose beauty brings
Unfeigned delight,
Invite the sight—
Where'er down pours
Her brilliant stores,
That wide expand—
Warms Summer's hand
Most bounteously,
To dye the Sky
And Earth and Air
With one most fair
Transcendant blush
Of roseate flush—
From zone to zone
Heart-struck and lone
Man may, perchance,
Urged on, advance
In hopes to gain
From heavy pain
A respite dear—
Still chastened here—
Or chance to escape
From fearful shape
Of scorn or shame
May be his aim,
How oft in vain
O'er main—o'er plain—
O'er mount—o'er marsh—
That Presence harsh
Pursues him still—
The dreaded Ill!
Whate'er he sees
Doth fail to please—
Vain—vain—while all
Doth still recall
That grief of mind
Which thus behind,
Fond Wretch! he strives
To leave—and drives
His bark along,
Though gales blow strong—
And goads his steed
To fiercer speed
To leave behind
His Heart and Mind!
Himself—his Soul!—
And bid Seas roll
And Mountains rise
While forth he flies—
Misjudging Elf!
Betwixt himself
And that dread Power
Which ne'er its hour
Defers or yields!—
Which sternly wields
Its sceptre wand
Of harsh command
With mastery dire
(Till both expire)—
Against I wist
The antagonist
Who dares to seek
Revenge to wreak
On That the while—
Or would beguile
Of its dark strength
And might at length—
That influence dread
Which grows instead
More stern, more strong
By conflict long,
And combat keen,
Than it had been!
That Power thrice armed
With Life deep-charmed—
Which bends to none—
But clings to one—
Which yields to nought
The Power of Thought!
King of All Kings—
It strongly brings
A glory bright
With perfect light
To adorn their crown,
Or strikes it down
To dust and ashes
With Lightning flashes—
Though only they
That fatal ray
Perceive and feel,
Which score of steel
Or flaw of flame
Makes weak and tame
And harmless quite,
Beside its blight
That seems to fall
Unearthly all!
The Conqueror's Lord!
Whose sceptre sword
Is like the brand
The Archangel's hand
Tremendous grasped
(When vainly gasped—
The Doomed who saw
With shrinking awe
And stunned amaze
In the olden days!)
Of withering fire
That weapon dire
Seems formed and framed,
Unturned—untamed—
If blood-stained Might
Hath mocked at Right!
When scarlet crimes
Appal the times
It searcheth sore
The Heart's quick core—
And through and through
Still smites anew—
The Sinner's scourge
That still doth urge
The wretch to fly
From every eye—
That goads him sore
For evermore—
The mourner's bane,
Still doubling pain
Increasing still—
The gloomy ill.
Oh! Power of thought,
'Tis thou hast taught
The high to stoop—
The strong to droop—
The fierce to sink—
The brave to shrink!—
But then beside
Extendest wide
Thy empire free—
Triumphantly
To crown—to bless
With Happiness—
Where Virtue lives
And gently gives
Her holy aid
To hearts afraid,
Then, then thou'rt bright
With Heavenly Light—
Full oft, though care
Still frowneth there!
The Poor man's wealth,
The sufferer's health,
The exile's bland
Bright native land,
The prisoner's fair
Fresh free-born air,
The lone one's friend—
Thought! Thought! no end,
No narrow bound
Can there be found
To thy bright Power
And Heaven-given dower
When Virtue's smile
Shines down the while
Serene on thee
Victoriously.—
But yet, but yet
Earth's fond regret
Will oft dispute
With struggle mute
Thy milder reign—
Again to pain
Will darkly turn
And teach to burn
Thy tenderer vein
Of soothing strain—
In error fond
I looked beyond
The sober truth,
And dreamt in sooth
A false fair dream
Like meteor's beam,
When late I spoke
Of Sorrow's yoke
By thee made light,
Her darkness bright—
Ah! 'tis not so!
The o'erwhelming woe
Though chased—displaced,
Awhile effaced—
Recoils upon
The wearied one
Long tried—long troubled,
With strength redoubled—
The moment's gleam
Makes murkier seem
The after gloom
Of clouded doom—
And though thy form
Be of the storm,
The rainbow bright
Displayed to sight,
Fair Virtue! still
The grief—the ill
Will have and hold
Its full share told,
Its own dark part
O'the human heart
I'the human hours
Which bend to Powers
Of Woe and Pain,
And own their reign—
The exile dreams
Of mounts and streams
Long severed far,—
Beneath a star
Of gentle ray,
Whose silvery play
Familiar shone
His gaze upon—
He sudden starts,
His Heart of Hearts
Is pierced and wrung,
He feels among
Cold strangers still
The trembling thrill
Of joy is past,
It could not last—
The captive ponders
In thought he wanders
Unchecked—unchained,
No more restrained,
O'er green, glad fields
Whose verdure yields
A deep delight
More full of might
Than e'er before
His bosom's core
A wakening knew—
Warmed through and through—
With feelings sweet
That mingling meet
Profoundly there
And banish care—
His own chains clank!—
He shrinks, as shrank
His heart, while first
Those chains accursed
Were round him thrown,
The Vision's flown!—
And when it fades,
Alas! the shades
Of Prison gloom
At once assume
A depth more drear
To chill with fear—
More dark, more dread
Those shades are spread
Around the eyes
That saw arise
A minute past
Fair landscapes, fast—
And skies all smiling
Blue, bright, beguiling—
And quivering gleams
From well-known streams,
And emerald bowers,
And rainbowed flowers!—
The lone one turns
With heart that yearns
To other years,
And soft appears
By musing brought
Before his thought
Full many a form
Bright, glowing, warm—
To light, to bless
His loneliness!—
But something breaks
The charm—then aches
With heavier sense
Of sick suspense
His lonely heart,
Condemned to part
With that sweet dream
Which Heaven did seem!
Uncertain all
If to his call
Shall evermore
E'en as before
Such imagery
Enchanted be
Allowed to appear
To charm and cheer
His solitude,
His loveless mood!
Thus Thought—crowned Thought!
On Earth thou'rt fraught
With more of pain
To breast and brain
Than aught beside—
While Love and Pride,
While Grief and Shame
Our mortal frame
Distracting wring
And scourge and sting!
And none may shun
Thy sway—not one!
In vain men speed
O'er mount and mead
O'er marsh and main
In vain—in vain,
To 'scape from thee
It may not be,
The Power of Pain
Doth still remain,
The sense of Shame
Still stings the same,
Crime's consciousness
Doth still oppress
With crushing force
Of black remorse
The offender's Soul,
Though oceans roll
Between him wide,
And that spot dyed
With memories dark
With fatal mark
Of stern deeds done
Erewhile thereon.

Oh! Dragon Fly!
That hurrieth by,
Thou speedest not
From spot to spot
To escape the woe,
To avoid the blow,
To shun the grief,
To seek relief,
Thou fearest no ill,
Thou dost but still
Bright pleasures new
In joy pursue!
Pleased all the while!—
For sunlight's smile
Sufficient is
To o'erflow with bliss
That little breast
So lightly blest!
We speed in chase
From place to place,
Full fondly bent
With keen intent
To find at last
Delight—surpassed,
Approached, by nought
E'er glimpsed in thought,
But all the while
That we beguile
With hope so fair
(A dream of air
Quick Hope and bright
With fairy might)
Our hearts we know,
Oh! iron Woe!
Of thee indeed
(Too seldom freed)
The truth unkind!—
Aye! Soul and Mind
Still feel and know
The dull, the slow
Reality
Of thee—of thee!

Yet, Dragon Fly,
That hurriest by,
I envy not
Thy cloudless lot.—
'Mid grief and gloom
And pain and doom,
And strife and doubt
Must I work out
That future fate
Which doth await
My Soul when borne
On wings of Morn—
Beyond the tomb,
And Death and Doom!
But, glorious thought!—
With transport fraught—
If not to stray
From one right way,
From one straight path
That fair end hath,
May now be mine,
Through Aid Divine
What boundless good
Not understood,
Not dreamt of here,
Too deep, too dear—
Shall I then share
In raptures there
Where bright increase
Doth never cease
Of joy and gladness
Unmixed by sadness!
What triumphs true
Shall proudly too
Repay me there
For toil and care—
Then Love that learnt
While here it burnt,
Oh! still the same,
A Heavenly flame
'Mid smothering clouds
And dulling shrouds,
And airs unblest
In wild unrest,
Its own sweet strength
Shall learn at length
That it was born
For Light and morn,
For bliss, for good,
There it shall brood
(The Eternal Dove,
Divinest Love!—)
For evermore
Enraptured o'er
Itself serene
In that blest scene!
No longer grieved,
Betrayed, deceived,
And darkly crossed,
And fiercely tossed
O'er wild waste waves,
Where ceaseless raves
The hoarse harsh blast,
And lowers o'ercast
The frowning Sky
Unpityingly,
No longer torn
By hate or scorn,
And made to endure
Ills, nought can cure;
Aggrieved, abused,
Wrung, wounded, bruised,
The martyr still
Whom fiendish skill
Exhausted seemed,
(For so had deemed
Soft Pity viewing
That fierce undoing)
In torturing on
Till Life was done
In torturing ever
With foul endeavour!
On this dark Earth
Whose barren dearth
Uncheering frowned
His steps around.
Oh! Love, no more
Tried, sharp, and sore,
Shalt thou then be,
But fair and free
Shalt thou elate
Then bless thy fate,
Exult, rejoice,
With full-crowned choice,
And ever rest
Of joy possessed
In golden peace
That will not cease!

Oh! Dragon Fly!
Speed swiftly by,
I envy not
Thy merry lot!
No! pass along
In freedom strong,
And fleetly run
While shines the Sun
Thy little race!—
Thou'lt leave no trace
Behind, glad thing,
When once thy wing
Droops low and weak,
And nought shall speak
Of thee, when thou
Across the bough
No more may cast
Thy shadows fast,
Nor brighten day
As with a ray
Of magic power
Through many an hour—
But this is nought
To thee—no thought
Hath ever leapt,
No dream hath swept
Through thy calm breast
Of perfect rest!—
Thou canst not care
Bright Sunshine's heir
For aught that may
On future day
Perchance take place,
But runn'st thy race
Of cloudless cheer
Without a fear—
In joy—without
A passing doubt!—
Nor bliss can cloy,
From joy to joy
Thou hurriest on
Till all is done!
Then not a trace
On Nature's face
Shall tell of thee
That eye can see!
Then nought remains
Like Summer's rains
In flowret's cup
Full soon dried up
By sunny ray—
All's passed away!
But thou'lt know not
That thou'rt forgot.
No! thou indeed
Wilt never heed
That none regret
Thy glad Star's set,
Thou, thou canst ne'er
Be made aware
Of thy changed fate—
And fallen state!
Yet, Dragon Fly,
I heave no sigh
While watching thee
Thus light and free,
I envy not
Thy careless lot—
Before mine eyes
Proud Destinies
Unfold, unroll,
And tempt my Soul!
Far, far away
From this dim day
That shines o'er Earth
Shall that take birth!
And that perchance
In dazzling trance
Shall too forget
How rose and set
The Suns of Skies
Whose loveliest dyes
Of orient rose
Or blue repose,
Or evening's gold
Were dim and cold,
Besides the Light
That then in sight
Shall streaming shine
All, all divine!
That—that perchance
In flashing trance
Shall dream, nor know
What may below
Then come to pass—
While like a glass
It mirrors deep
The pomps that sweep
Before its ken
Serenely then,
This World the while
So base and vile
Effaced and razed
From thoughts emblazed
With truths and things
Whose shadow flings
O'er Earth below
A glorious glow!
Aye! that may thus
Victorious
O'er all it bore
In days of yore,
Nor know nor heed
Nor dream indeed
What happens here
On this far sphere—
For it Earth's sway
Hath passed away,
Hath fleeted by
As utterly
Ere it can gain
Its high domain
As, Dragon Fly,
When thou dost die
Depart from thee
All things that be—
Thy portion while
In Sunlight's smile
Thou revell'st here
Without a fear.
Oh! Dragon Fly!
Swift hurrying by,
I envy not
Thy careless lot—
I heave no sigh
When thou speed'st by
On restless wing!
Fair happy thing!