Earth had one quarter turned before
My miserable fate
Pressed down with its whole weight.
My sense came back; and shivering o'er
I felt a pain to bear
The sun's keen cruel glare,
Which shone not warm as heretofore;
And never more its rays
Will satisfy my gaze:
No more; no more; O, never any more.


II. DAY DREAM.


What art thou whispering lowly to thy babe,
O wan girl-mother, with Madonna lids
Downcast? Why pressest thou so close his pale
Geranium cheek to thy yet whiter breast?
Ah, doubtless sweet; to feel him draw the stream
That fills with strength his lily limbs! And laughs
Thine own heart with his deeply dimpled laughter,
Answering straight thy dainty finger's touch?
And understandeth he that murmurous moan,
Wherewith thou hushest, patting him to rest?

What visions charm thy gaze, now resting wide
In settled sweet content? Beholdest thou
Thy babe, now sprung a man, walk sunhazed slopes
With one lovelier than visions; lovely as