THE FALSE FAIR DAYS

The false fair days have flamed the livelong day,
And still they flicker in the brazen West.
Cast down thine eyes, poor soul, shut out the unblest:
A deadliest temptation. Come away.

All day they flashed in flakes of fire, that lay
The vintage low upon the hill's green breast,
The harvest low,--and o'er that faithfullest,
The blue sky ever beckoning, shed dismay.

Oh, clasp thy hands, grow pale, and turn again!
If all the future savoured of the past?
If the old insanity were on its way?

Those memories, must each anew be slain?
One fierce assault, the best, no doubt, the last!
Go pray against the gathering storm, go pray!


GIVE EAR UNTO THE GENTLE LAY

Give ear unto the gentle lay
That's only sad that it may please;
It is discreet, and light it is:
A whiff of wind o'er buds in May.

The voice was known to you (and dear?),
But it is muffled latterly