Part 23 (1/2)

Somewhere high in the air Would thy wing seek a home 'mid sunny skies, In mead or mossy dell-- If there thy odors longest, sweetest rise.

Have where ye will your dwelling, Or breath or tint whose praise we sing; b.u.t.terfly s.h.i.+ning bright, Full-blown or bursting rosebud, flow'r or wing.

Dwell together ye fair, 'Tis a boon to the loveliest given; Perchance ye then may choose your home On the earth or in heaven.

W.C. WESTBROOK

A SIMILE.

_(”Soyez comme l'oiseau.”)_

[x.x.xIII. vi.]

Thou art like the bird That alights and sings Though the frail spray bends-- For he knows he has wings.

f.a.n.n.y KEMBLE (BUTLER)

THE POET TO HIS WIFE.

_(”a toi, toujours a toi.”)_

[x.x.xIX., 1823]

To thee, all time to thee, My lyre a voice shall be!

Above all earthly fas.h.i.+on, Above mere mundane rage, Your mind made it my pa.s.sion To write for n.o.blest stage.

Whoe'er you be, send blessings to her--she Was sister of my soul immortal, free!

My pride, my hope, my shelter, my resource, When green hoped not to gray to run its course; She was enthroned Virtue under heaven's dome, My idol in the shrine of curtained home.

LES VOIX INTeRIEURES.--1840.

THE BLINDED BOURBONS.

_(”Qui leur eut dit l'austere destinee?”)_

[II. v., November, 1836.]

Who _then_, to them[1] had told the Future's story?

Or said that France, low bowed before their glory, One day would mindful be Of them and of their mournful fate no more, Than of the wrecks its waters have swept o'er The unremembering sea?

That their old Tuileries should see the fall Of blazons from its high heraldic hall, Dismantled, crumbling, p.r.o.ne;[2]