SONNET.

WRITTEN IN ANSWER TO A SONNET ENDING

THUS :

Dark eyes are dearer far

Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell

BY J. H. REYNOLDS.

BLUE! 'Tis the life of heaven,-the domain
Of Cynthia,-the wide palace of the sun,-
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,—
The bosomer of clouds, gold, grey and dun.
Blue! 'Tis the life of waters :-Ocean

And all its vassal streams, pools numberless,
May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark blue nativeness.
Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers,-
Forget-me-not,-the Blue bell,-and, that Queen
Of secrecy, the Violet: what strange powers
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great,
When in an Eye thou art, alive with fate!

SONNET.

TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS.

O THAT a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:

So could we live long life in little space,

So time itself would be annihilate, So a day's journey in oblivious haze

To serve our joys would lengthen and dilate. O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!

To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant! In little time a host of joys to bind,

And keep our souls in one eternal pant ! This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught Me how to harbour such a happy thought.

TEIGNMOUTH:

66 SOME DOGGEREL," SENT IN A LETTER TO B. R. HAYDON.

I.

HERE all the summer could I stay,
For there's Bishop's teign

And King's teign

And Coomb at the clear teign head

Where close by the stream

You may have your cream
All spread upon barley bread.

II.

There's arch Brook

And there's larch Brook

Both turning many a mill;

And cooling the drouth
Of the salmon's mouth,

And fattening his silver gill.

III.

There is Wild wood,

A Mild hood

To the sheep on the lea o' the down,
Where the golden furze,

With its green, thin spurs,

Doth catch at the maiden's gown.

IV.

There is Newton marsh

With its spear grass harsh

A pleasant summer level

Where the maidens sweet

Of the Market Street,

Do meet in the dusk to revel.

V.

There's the Barton rich

With dyke and ditch

And hedge for the thrush to live in,

And the hollow tree

For the buzzing bee
And a bank for the wasp to hive in.

And O, and O

VI.

The daisies blow

And the primroses are waken'd,

And the violets white

Sit in silver plight,

And the green bud's as long as the spike end.

VII.

Then who would go

Into dark Soho,

And chatter with dack'd hair'd critics,
When he can stay

For the new-mown hay,

And startle the dappled Prickets?

THE DEVON MAID:

STANZAS SENT IN A LETTER TO B. R. HAYDON.

I.

WHERE be ye going, you Devon Maid?
And what have ye there in the Basket?
Ye tight little fairy just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?

II.

I love your Meads, and I love your flowers,
And I love your junkets mainly,

But 'hind the door I love kissing more,
O look not so disdainly.

III.

I love your hills, and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating-
But O, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!

IV.

I'll put your Basket all safe in a nook,
Your shawl I hang up on the willow,
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye
And kiss on a grass green pillow.

EPISTLE.

TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS.

DEAR Reynolds! as last night I lay in bed,
There came before my eyes that wonted thread
Of shapes, and shadows, and remembrances,
That every other minute vex and please:

Things all disjointed come from north and south,- 5
Two Witch's eyes above a Cherub's mouth,

Voltaire with casque and shield and habergeon,

And Alexander with his nightcap on;

Old Socrates a-tying his cravat,

And Hazlitt playing with Miss Edgeworth's cat: 10

And Junius Brutus, pretty well so so,

Making the best of's way towards Soho.

Few are there who escape these visitings,— Perhaps one or two whose lives have patent wings, And thro' whose curtains peeps no hellish nose, No wild-boar tushes, and no Mermaid's toes; But flowers bursting out with lusty pride, And young Æolian harps personify'd ;

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