I hover through the twilight round her eaves,
  And dart above, before her, in her path,
  Till, with a smile, she gives me all her mind;
  And in the deep of night, lest she be sad
  In sleepless thought, I stir me in my nest,
  And murmur as I murmur to my young;
  She makes no answer, but I know she hears;
  And all the cherished pictures in her thoughts
  Grow bright because of me, her swallow friend!

LAST DAYS.

  As one who follows a departing friend,
  Destined to cross the great, dividing sea,
  I watch and follow these departing days,
  That go so grandly, lifting up their crowns
  Still regal, though their victor Autumn comes. 
  Gifts they bestow, which I accept, return,
  As gifts exchanged between a loving pair,
  Who may possess them as memorials
  Of pleasures ended by the shadow—­Death. 
  What matter which shall vanish hence, if both
  Are transitory—­me, and these bright hours—­
  And of the future ignorant alike? 
  From all our social thralls I would be free. 
  Let care go down the wind—­as hounds afar,
  Within their kennels baying unseen foes,
  Give to calm sleepers only calmer dreams. 
  Here will I rest alone:  the morning mist
  Conceals no form but mine; the evening dew
  Freshens but faded flowers and my worn face. 
  When the noon basks among the wooded hills
  I too will bask, as silent as the air
  So thick with sun-motes, dyed like yellow gold,
  Or colored purple like an unplucked plum. 
  The thrush, now lonesome, for her young have flown,
  May flutter her brown wings across my path;
  And creatures of the sod with brilliant eyes
  May leap beside me, and familiar grow. 
  The moon shall rise among her floating clouds,
  Black, vaporous fans, and crinkled globes of pearl,
  And her sweet silver light be given to me. 
  To watch and follow these departing days
  Must be my choice; and let me mated be
  With Solitude; may memory and hope
  Unite to give me faith that nothing dies;
  To show me always, what I pray to know,
  That man alone may speak the word—­Farewell.