Enthusiastic will;

These wrought the magic of a maid
As sweet and sad as the sun in spring;--
Joyous, yet half-afraid
Her joyousness to sing.






BRIDE BROOK


Wide as the sky Time spreads his hand,
And blindly over us there blows
A swarm of years that fill the land,
Then fade, and are as fallen snows.

Behold, the flakes rush thick and fast;
Or are they years, that come between,--
When, peering back into the past,
I search the legendary scene?

Nay. Marshaled down the open coast,
Fearless of that low rampart's frown,
The winter's white-winged, footless host
Beleaguers ancient Saybrook town.