18
Angel spirits of sleep,
White-robed, with silver hair,
In your meadows fair,
Where the willows weep,
And the sad moonbeam
On the gliding stream
Writes her scattered dream:
Angel spirits of sleep,
Dancing to the weir
In the hollow roar
Of its waters deep;
Know ye how men say
That ye haunt no more
Isle and grassy shore
With your moonlit play;
White-robed spirits of sleep,
All the summer night
Threading dances light?
19
ANNIVERSARY
What is sweeter than new-mown hay,
Fresher than winds o’er-sea that blow,
Innocent above children’s play,
Fairer and purer than winter snow,
Frolic as are the morns of May?
—If it should be what best I know!
What is richer than thoughts that stray
From reading of poems that smoothly flow?
What is solemn like the delay
Of concords linked in a music slow
Dying thro’ vaulted aisles away?
—If it should be what best I know!
What gives faith to me when I pray,
Setteth my heart with joy aglow,
Filleth my song with fancies gay,
Maketh the heaven to which I go,
The gladness of earth that lasteth for aye?
—If it should be what best I know!
But tell me thou—’twas on this day
That first we loved five years ago—
If ’tis a thing that I can say,
Though it must be what best we know.