Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught! 
Thus at the flaming forge of life
  Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
  Each burning deed and thought.

ENDYMION

The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
   Lie on the landscape green,
   With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
   Had dropt her silver bow
   Upon the meadows low.

On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss,
   When, sleeping in the grove,
   He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian’s kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
   Nor voice, nor sound betrays
   Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes,—­the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—­
   In silence and alone
   To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep
Are Life’s oblivion, the soul’s sleep,
   And kisses the closed eyes
   Of him, who slumbering lies.

O weary hearts!  O slumbering eyes! 
O drooping souls, whose destinies
   Are fraught with fear and pain,
   Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate,
   But some heart, though unknown,
   Responds unto his own.

Responds,—­as if with unseen wings,
An angel touched its quivering strings;
   And whispers, in its song,
   “’Where hast thou stayed so long?”

IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY

No hay pajaros en los nidos de antano. 
                Spanish Proverb

The sun is bright,—­the air is clear,
  The darting swallows soar and sing. 
And from the stately elms I hear
  The bluebird prophesying Spring.

So blue you winding river flows,
  It seems an outlet from the sky,
Where waiting till the west-wind blows,
  The freighted clouds at anchor lie.

All things are new;—­the buds, the leaves,
  That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest,
 And even the nest beneath the eaves;—­
   There are no birds in last year’s nest!

All things rejoice in youth and love,
   The fulness of their first delight! 
 And learn from the soft heavens above
   The melting tenderness of night.

Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme,
   Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,
   For oh, it is not always May!

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
   To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
  There are no birds in last year’s nest!

THE RAINY DAY

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
    And the day is dark and dreary.