Break this heavy chain

That does freeze my bones around.
Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane !

That free love with bondage bound.

M

INFANT SORROW.

Y mother groan'd, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt ;

Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.

A

MY PRETTY ROSE-TREE.

FLOWER was offer'd to me,

Such a flower as May never bore;

But I said, I've a pretty rose-tree,
And I pass'd the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose-tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turn'd away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

AH! SUN-FLOWER.

AH, Sunflower! weary of time,

Α

Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime,
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire
Where my sunflower wishes to go.

THE LILY.

`HE modest rose puts forth a thorn,

ΤΗ The humble sheep a threatening horn;

While the lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

W

NURSE'S SONG.

HEN the voices of children are heard on

the green,

And whisperings are in the dale,

The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,

My face turns green and pale.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,

And the dews of night arise;

Your spring and your day are wasted in play
And your winter and night in disguise.

THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE.

L

OVE seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care ;

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a heaven in hell's despair.

So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet :

I

Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.

I

THE GARDEN OF LOVE.

WENT to the garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this chapel were shut,
And "Thou shalt not " writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore ;

And I saw it was filled with graves

And tombstones where flowers should be: And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars my joys and desires.

Am not I

A fly like thee?
Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance,

And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath,

And the want

Of thought is death;

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live

Or if I die.

TIG

THE TIGER.

IGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?