Part 7 (1/2)

O! if our hearts have sweeter bal ears

TO MY LOVE

I can not say how much I love thee, words, Like wearied petrels, fall on shoreless seas

But O! I love thee! Simple words of these Float on the storolden zone engirds The thee and me in worlds of nameless ease, And promise fairer far than aeetes'

No clouds there teolden fleece feed in the fields of blue, And sunny harbors lull the freighted shi+ps Of tender song, the while thine hero woo, For aye sweet e from thine honeyed lips; Or catch sos to tell how dear I love thee

THE STORM KING

The storht-- O! weep for theof the storht, May still the dread , the thunder, the rain, and the blast-- How he driveth each note to its ultioal!

And the roll of dead worlds in the infinite vast, How they roll in his soul, in his , the thunder, the blast, and the rain-- How he playeth each note for its ultirows blacker again, With the deep where his randeur, the sweep of his song, The raging and lurid stores, to hiht

How he laugheth, and laugheth, this an assunder!

Now soaring, now crashi+ng to nethers-- The maddest of music but never a blunder

For he smiteth the sea, and he teareth the land, And never a prayer but he laugheth to scorn!

A King and a God--should he render less grand For sake of the ghoul haunted beeches of morn?

THE BIRTH OF FANCY

I dreamed, and ah! the dream eeter far, Than any drea to a star On Agne's Eve I thought a glorious quiver, Of ecstasy was treht, And Time, beyond the outposts of the years, Was hushed expectant, all of wonder fraught

For Fancy cradled in a golden cloud Had risen in a drealory,-- While on his brow his soul had overflowed, And swiftly scaled a purple proain, in speed as dreamy fleet, And laid a snohite feather at my feet