LOVER’S PETITION.

Good Heart, that ownest all! 
I ask a modest boon and small: 
Not of lands and towns the gift,—­
Too large a load for me to lift,—­
But for one proper creature,
Which geographic eye,
Sweeping the map of Western earth,
Or the Atlantic coast, from Maine
To Powhatan’s domain,
Could not descry. 
Is’t much to ask in all thy huge creation,
So trivial a part,—­
A solitary heart?

Yet count me not of spirit mean,
Or mine a mean demand,
For ’t is the concentration
And worth of all the land,
The sister of the sea,
The daughter of the strand,
Composed of air and light,
And of the swart earth-might. 
So little to thy poet’s prayer
Thy large bounty well can spare. 
And yet I think, if she were gone,
The world were better left alone.

UNA.

Roving, roving, as it seems,
Una lights my clouded dreams;
Still for journeys she is dressed;
We wander far by east and west.

In the homestead, homely thought;
At my work I ramble not;
If from home chance draw me wide,
Half-seen Una sits beside.

In my house and garden-plot,
Though beloved, I miss her not;
But one I seek in foreign places,
One face explore in foreign faces.

At home a deeper thought may light
The inward sky with chrysolite,
And I greet from far the ray,
Aurora of a dearer day.

But if upon the seas I sail,
Or trundle on the glowing rail,
I am but a thought of hers,
Loveliest of travellers.

So the gentle poet’s name
To foreign parts is blown by fame;
Seek him in his native town,
He is hidden and unknown.

LETTERS.

Every day brings a ship,
Every ship brings a word;
Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assured
That the word the vessel brings
Is the word they wish to hear.

RUBIES.

They brought me rubies from the mine,
  And held them to the sun;
I said, they are drops of frozen wine
  From Eden’s vats that run.

I looked again,—­I thought them hearts
  Of friends to friends unknown;
Tides that should warm each neighbouring life
  Are locked in sparkling stone.

But fire to thaw that ruddy snow,
  To break enchanted ice,
And give love’s scarlet tides to flow,—­
  When shall that sun arise?

MERLIN’S SONG.

Of Merlin wise I learned a song,—­
Sing it low or sing it loud,
It is mightier than the strong,
And punishes the proud. 
I sing it to the surging crowd,—­
Good men it will calm and cheer,
Bad men it will chain and cage. 
In the heart of the music peals a strain
Which only angels hear;
Whether it waken joy or rage,
Hushed myriads hark in vain,
Yet they who hear it shed their age,
And take their youth again.