Go, Winter!

Go, Winter! Go thy ways! We want again The twitter of the bluebird and the wren; Leaves ever greener growing, and the shine Of Summer's sun--not thine.--

Thy sun, which mocks our need of warmth and love And all the heartening fervencies thereof, It scarce hath heat enow to warm our thin Pathetic yearnings in.

So get thee from us! We are cold, God wot, Even as thou art.--We remember not How blithe we hailed thy coming.--That was O Too long--too long ago!

Get from us utterly! Ho! Summer then Shall spread her grasses where thy snows have been, And thy last icy footprint melt and mold In her first marigold.

ELIZABETH.

May 1, 1891.

I.

Elizabeth! Elizabeth! The first May-morning whispereth Thy gentle name in every breeze That lispeth through the young-leaved trees, New raimented in white and green Of bloom and leaf to crown thee queen;-- And, as in odorous chorus, all The orchard-blossoms sweetly call Even as a singing voice that saith Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

II.

Elizabeth! Lo, lily-fair, In deep, cool shadows of thy hair, Thy face maintaineth its repose.-- Is it, O sister of the rose, So better, sweeter, blooming thus Than in this briery world with us?-- Where frost o'ertaketh, and the breath Of biting winter harrieth With sleeted rains and blighting snows All fairest blooms--Elizabeth!

III.

Nay, then!--So reign, Elizabeth, Crowned, in thy May-day realm of death! Put forth the scepter of thy love In every star-tipped blossom of The grassy dais of thy throne! Sadder are we, thus left alone, But gladder they that thrill to see Thy mother's rapture, greeting thee. Bereaved are we by life--not death-- Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

SLEEP.

Orphaned, I cry to thee: Sweet sleep! O kneel and be A mother unto me! Calm thou my childish fears: Fold--fold mine eyelids to, all tenderly, And dry my tears.

Come, Sleep, all drowsy-eyed And faint with languor,--slide Thy dim face down beside Mine own, and let me rest And nestle in thy heart, and there abide, A favored guest.

Good night to every care, And shadow of despair! Good night to all things where Within is no delight!-- Sleep opens her dark arms, and, swooning there, I sob: Good night--good night!

DAN PAINE.

Old friend of mine, whose chiming name Has been the burthen of a rhyme Within my heart since first I came To know thee in thy mellow prime; With warm emotions in my breast That can but coldly be expressed, And hopes and wishes wild and vain, I reach my hand to thee, Dan Paine.

In fancy, as I sit alone In gloomy fellowship with care, I hear again thy cheery tone, And wheel for thee an easy chair; And from my hand the pencil falls-- My book upon the carpet sprawls, As eager soul and heart and brain, Leap up to welcome thee, Dan Paine.

A something gentle in thy mein, A something tender in thy voice, Has made my trouble so serene, I can but weep, from very choice. And even then my tears, I guess, Hold more of sweet than bitterness, And more of gleaming shine than rain, Because of thy bright smile, Dan Paine.

The wrinkles that the years have spun And tangled round thy tawny face, Are kinked with laughter, every one, And fashioned in a mirthful grace. And though the twinkle of thine eyes Is keen as frost when Summer dies, It can not long as frost remain While thy warm soul shines out, Dan Paine.

And so I drain a health to thee;-- May merry Joy and jolly Mirth Like children clamber on thy knee, And ride thee round the happy earth! And when, at last, the hand of Fate Shall lift the latch of Canaan's gate, And usher me in thy domain, Smile on me just as now, Dan Paine.